Romantic Road

by Blair McDowell

  Before Lacy could object Max was gone. She ventured a quick glance after him. Two men had the car door open. One was looking in the glove compartment while the other was examining their luggage. Meanwhile, Max was strolling casually down the sidewalk, past the car park, and then he was out of sight.

  Lacy was incensed at the potential loss of her wardrobe, sparse though it was. For a moment she was tempted to dash forward and demand of the men what they thought they were doing. Then she felt a strong arms clasp her shoulders.

  “No, you don’t! We can replace clothes. You have your money and your passport with you, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Here we go.” With his arm around her shoulder he marched her briskly in the opposite direction from the car park to where the riverboat was docked. Without slowing his pace he pushed her up the gangplank.

  An officer greeted them at the top. “I’m sorry, sir, but only passengers are allowed aboard.”

  “Could we speak for a moment with the chief purser, please?” Max spoke with authority.

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Five minutes later they were passengers on die Königin, shortly to embark for Wurzburg.

  “Sorry,” Max said to Lacy in their cabin. “I’m afraid there was only one stateroom available. I’ll sleep on the floor. It won’t be the first time.”

  “But your car? You can’t just let them steal your car!”

  “Why not? I did.”

  “What?”

  “If people are dumb enough to leave a Mercedes unlocked in an airport car park, they deserve to have it stolen.”

  “You didn’t!” Lacy looked at Max in disbelief.

  “We needed a car. We couldn’t go to the car rental counters. If people were looking for you, they’d have been watching there. We could possibly have taken the train into Frankfurt, but I thought it more expedient to have a car and to put some distance between you and your pursuers, that is if there really were any pursuers.”

  “So you stole a car. Just exactly where’d you pick up a skill like that?”

  “I have many talents of which you are as yet unaware. The question is, how’d they find you here so quickly?”

  “I can’t begin to imagine. In Frankfurt, I thought it might be because of my phone, but here…”

  “Do you have anything with you you’ve had ever since you left New York?”

  “No. I bought all new clothes. My suitcase is one I brought with me from New York, but…”

  “That accounts for how they located the car so quickly.” Max studied her. “Anything else?”

  Lacy thought for a moment. “Only my handbag and my backpack. But I just bought the backpack.”

  Max picked up her handbag. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  He turned her purse upside down on the bed and examined each item in turn. Her three passports. “Your husband, I take it, provided you with these?”

  Lacy nodded.

  “Quite a professional job. What line of business did you say he was in?”

  “I didn’t say.”

  “Right.” Max next examined the packages of hundred euro notes. He took the smallest bundle and put it in his pocket. “I hope you don’t mind. This will come in handy.”

  “Of course I mind. That’s my money. What do you think you’re doing with it? I may need it.”

  “Sorry, but I normally travel on credit cards and I’m running short of cash. This little riverboat jaunt was expensive, and credit cards are not an option if we want to travel undetected. Neither are bank machines.”

  He continued his investigation. “Lipstick. I wasn’t aware you wore it. Comb. Drivers’ licenses. Three. Same names as the passports. That’s a nice touch. Credit cards, same names. Your husband was a very thorough man.”

  “Yes. In everything,” Lacy said. “It was his way.”

  Max looked at her, puzzled. “He did his best to prepare you for getting out of the country undetected. So how’d they trace you so easily?”

  He looked again at her now empty handbag. Taking a penknife out of his pocket he slit its silk lining.

  “What are you doing?” Lacy was appalled. “That’s a two-hundred-dollar Coach bag!”

  He pulled the lining out, examined the interior of the bag, then looked at her, abashed, and handed it back to her. “Nothing there. I was so sure there’d be a homing device in it.”

  “That’s just crazy. Why would anyone put a homing device in my bag?” Lacy started putting her things back in her purse, now minus its lining.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? I’m going ashore for a few minutes. I’m going to check us in at Zum Riesen. With a little luck, the men who found the car will assume you’re spending the night at the Inn.”

  Lacy shivered. “You’ll come right back?”

  “Of course. The boat isn’t set to sail for another hour. Don’t worry. I suspect they’re more interested in following you than in catching you at this point.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “It just stands to reason. They want you to lead them to whatever it is you’re tracking down. I think you’re safe until you have it in your possession.”

  ****

  Once ashore, Max went directly to the Zum Riesen and booked a room. “Thank you, no help needed. We’ll get our bags from the car later.”

  Once in the room, he entered a familiar number into his phone.

  “What the hell is going on, Jean-Paul? Who exactly is this woman, and what kind of trouble is she in?”

  “What do you mean? She’s just someone I care about, and I think she could possibly run into difficulty traveling alone. I asked you to keep an eye on her. What’s happened? Where are you? Have they hurt her?” The panic in Jean-Paul’s voice was palpable.

  “No. No, she’s safe. I’ve got her with me. It was the only way I could do it. She wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on her own. We’re in Miltenberg, and they’ve already traced her here, whoever they are.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “What’s this about, Jean? It’s time to level with me. I’m supposed to be on vacation, and here I am playing nursemaid to a young woman I know nothing about, for reasons I know nothing about. Tell me now, or I’m going to walk away from it all and go to St. Wolfgang, where I was headed before you got me mixed up in it.”

  There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line. “She’s Igor Telchev’s widow, Max.”

  “Igor…Don’t tell me. He wrote that damn book he was always talking about. They’re after that, aren’t they?”

  “I’m not sure, but I presume so.”

  “Government? Mafia?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly both.”

  Max shook his head. “Telchev’s widow. You knew I wouldn’t be able to refuse, damn you. We’ll talk again soon. Right now I have to catch a boat.”

  Chapter Five

  A short while later, Max was back on board. He seemed preoccupied. He looked long at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

  “Is everything all right?” Lacy ventured.

  “If you mean do they know where we are, I think you’re safe for the moment.” Then he retreated into silence, his lanky frame stretched out in a chair, legs crossed at the ankles, gazing out of the window of their stateroom.

  Soon the ship was underway, winding its way down the river past picturesque small towns and steep hills covered with grape vines. Lacy, sitting on the bed, was suddenly overcome with fatigue. The incident in the airport, the men searching the car, their flight from Miltenberg the time difference…

  “Lie down,” Max said, glancing at her. “I’ll wake you in time for dinner.”

  ****

  At eight o’clock Max woke her. “The dining room is open. I think we should eat. You never know when we’ll have another chance.”

  Lacy puzzled over his words as she combed her hair and tried to make her wrinkled travel clothing as presentable as possible.

&
nbsp; A few minutes later they were at the entrance to an elegant dining salon.

  “Oh no, I can’t!” Lacy backed up as she surveyed the crystal chandeliers, the other diners dressed in formal clothes.

  “Don’t worry,” Max said. “I explained to the headwaiter that our luggage was lost. He was very understanding. And no one else matters.”

  Once seated, mercifully at an unobtrusive corner table, Lacy said, “I want clothes. Will we be somewhere tomorrow where I can buy some clothes? I’ve been in these for more than twenty-four hours now.”

  Max tilted his head and looked at her appraisingly. “You look just fine. You, in fact, are the most beautiful woman in this room. So what’s your problem?”

  Lacy glanced around at their shipmates. There wasn’t another woman in the dining salon under the age of sixty. “In view of the company, I’m not sure that’s really a compliment. I feel grungy. I want fresh clothing.”

  “We’ll be in Wurzburg tomorrow. Maybe we can find you something there.”

  ****

  That night, true to his word, Max slept on the floor. He took one of the pillows and a blanket from the bed, and by the time Lacy was finished in the bathroom he was sound asleep. She on the other hand, tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. Did it have something to do with the close proximity of a very attractive man? Surely not. She fell into a deep slumber only at dawn.

  ****

  She was awakened by his hand on her shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  She opened one bleary eye. “Go away.”

  “We’re docked. We have to get off the ship here.”

  “I need coffee.”

  “I’ve already ordered it. It will be here by the time you’ve had your shower.”

  Lacy sat up. Max’s improvised bed had disappeared, his pillow and blanket were back on her bed.

  He saw her eyeing them. “Can’t have the cabin steward think I’m not sleeping with you. What would that say about my virility?”

  Lacy threw her pillow at him and stomped into the bathroom.

  When she emerged twenty minutes later, after a steaming shower, with her hair still damp, Lacy saw a wheeled table draped in white linen set up by their wide window. On it was an assortment of rolls, cheeses, slices of ham and boiled eggs. The rich aroma of coffee filled the cabin.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” she sighed.

  Only after downing a full cup of coffee and taking a refill from the carafe did she pause long enough to look out the window.

  “There’s a castle, another castle. Where are we?”

  Max smiled. “It’s the Festung Marienberg. The fortress where the prince-bishops of Wurzburg lived for centuries. It has survived invading armies countless times in the last twelve hundred years. It’s been captured among others, by the Swedes, Napoleon, and most recently, in 1945, by the Americans, and still it stands. A tribute to the indomitable will of man.”

  Lacy studied the impressive structure dominating the hill above the river. “Will we have time to go see it?”

  “We could, but I don’t think we should hang around Wurzburg very long, and there’s something I’d rather show you. Finish your breakfast so we can be on our way.”

  An hour later, after thanking the purser for allowing them this short sojourn, they took their departure from the riverboat.

  “Will I have time to buy some clothes?”

  Max frowned. “You look fine.”

  “Max!”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “We’ll try to find you some clothes.”

  They walked along the river bank for a short way until the came to a pedestrian-only bridge. “The Alta Mainbrucke,” Max informed her. “Built in the fifteenth century.”

  Lacy stared at him. “How do you know so much about this stuff?”

  “This stuff, as you call it, is as much a part of my history as the Statue of Liberty is of yours.”

  “Point taken.” Lacy had the good grace to smile. “It’s awe inspiring to think that back in the fourteen hundreds when this bridge was being built, my part of the world was just being discovered by the Europeans. Manhattan was a forest.”

  Max took her by the hand and led her into the old town, away from the river through a maze of narrow cobblestone streets.

  “Where are we going? And without a car, how are we going to get to Rothenburg?”

  “I’ll deal with our transportation. But first I want to show you something.”

  As they emerged from the narrow street, Lacy saw before her an immense building, fronted by a wide gravel courtyard. The palace, for palace it surely was, had multiple windows fancifully surmounted by an assortment of arches and gables. Lacy looked at Max for clarification.

  “The Residenz Wurzburg. Come.” At the entrance he handed ten euros for their admission fee to the bored attendant.

  They stepped into a vast, dimly lit vestibule. Before them was a flight of impressive stairs, a grand staircase. Taking her hand, Max led Lacy to the first landing mezzanine.

  “Now turn and look,” he said.

  Lacy looked up. The plain white walls were surmounted by a riot of color. “What…?”

  “Come.”

  The stairs divided from this point on, one set ascending on the right, the other on the left. Max led her up the ones on the right. At the top, Lacy turned and gasped. The ceiling was a vast, unsupported vaulted space, every inch of which was covered with frescos.

  “Tiepolo,” Max said. “One of my favorite artists. This fresco was originally painted in the seventeen hundreds, but it’s been closed to the public for years, undergoing restoration. It reopened only recently. I couldn’t be here in Wurzburg without seeing it.”

  Lacy looked at Max in disbelief. “We’re running away from bad guys who may well wish me bodily harm, and you bring me here to see a painting?”

  “They’re unlikely to be looking for you here. Just look at it, Lacy. Have you no soul?”

  Lacy started examining the work of art over her head.

  “It’s the four continents, Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, as imagined by an eighteenth-century artist who never traveled outside Europe,” Max explained.

  Against her will, Lacy found herself drawn into the work. The perspective was incredible. A man was pictured sitting on a painted ledge, his legs dangling below the rest of the painting, while his dog stood on the ledge beside him. Both were gazing up at the wildly painted ceiling. Her eyes followed those of the painted observers. People in feathers and people in turbans, people dressed in rich flowing gowns and exotic draped skins. Alligators and elephants. A monkey, his tail hanging over the cornice, was attempting to pull the tail feathers of an ostrich.

  “Fantasy world, eighteenth-century style,” she breathed.

  “Exactly. I knew anyone who’d buy a flying pig would see it like that. Isn’t it incredible?”

  “Thank you for bringing me here, Max.”

  He hugged her for a brief moment. “Right. Now I’d better see to getting us transportation out of Wurzburg. Come on.”

  Out in the sunshine once more he led her around back of the palace into the green flowery gardens of the Residenz. There were tables and chairs, a beer garden. Max saw her seated and ordered for them both. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Try to stay out of trouble.” With that he sprinted off in the general direction of the river.

  Lacy removed her wide-brimmed Tilly hat and ran her hand through her bright red hair. She leaned back, eyes closed, face turned to the sunshine, enjoying its warmth.

  A shadow came between her and the sun. She opened her eyes and sat up abruptly. The man, the dark skinned man she had last seen on the road from the Berkshires, sat down across from her. His partner stood behind him, his pale grey eyes boring into her.

  The seated man spoke. “Mrs. Telchev, you’ve given us a great deal of trouble.”

  Lacy looked around frantically. Where was Max?

  “We mean you no harm. But we mu
st have that manuscript. Your husband told you where he hid it. It only makes sense. Tell us where it is, and we won’t bother you again.”

  At that moment, the waitress placed the pitcher of beer Max had ordered on the table in front of Lacy. Lacy glanced down at the beer, then up at the seated man. In one sweeping gesture, she threw the contents of the pitcher into his face and overturned the table. The second man moved to grab her, but she was out of her chair and running before he could get to her.

  Lacy ran without looking back. She was running blindly, heart pounding, gasping for breath, losing all sense of where she was heading. She had to get away. She could hear someone behind her, closing the distance between them. Where could she take refuge?

  She was on a street filled with shops when he caught up with her and pulled her into a doorway. She opened her mouth to scream, so he brought his mouth down to hers. His arms held her tight, and he pushed her against the wall. The kiss lingered. A second set of running footsteps passed and disappeared into the distance. And still his lips lingered on hers.

  Lacy melted into the kiss, feeling strong arms around her, the full length of his body pressed against hers. Her head swam; her body was suddenly limp, boneless.

  Max released her, and her knees gave way. Quickly his arms were around her again, supporting her. “This time someone was definitely chasing you,” he said. “What happened? I was coming back to get you when you raced past me. You’re pretty fast on your feet for a girl.”

  Lacy was breathless. Whether from running or from the kiss she wasn’t quite sure. “There were two of them. They found me sitting there. I threw a pitcher of beer at them and ran.”

  Max threw his head back and laughed. “It’s definitely time we got out of Wurzburg,” he said.

  “Have you rented a car?”

  “Not exactly. Here.” He handed her a baseball cap embroidered with the word Disneyland and an oversized fleecy emblazoned with a picture of Mickey Mouse.

  “Ditch the Tilly hat. Put this shirt on and stuff your hair up under the cap. I can’t imagine why your husband thought red hair would make you less noticeable.”

  “A cartoon character T-shirt and a cap that says Disneyland? This is your idea of new clothes?”