Faye continued to stare at the building for a moment, then turned to look at Frank.
‘Are you going to call?’
‘Not yet.’ Frank checked his watch, then folded his arms. ‘He’s kept us waiting. Let him twist in the wind for a while.’
It was almost three o’clock when Frank finally stirred, reaching into his jacket pocket to make sure he still had the paper napkin.
‘Okay,’ he said.
Faye sat up.
‘Now?’
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ he said. ‘While I’m gone, you watch the place. If Ellis or anyone else comes out of there, I need to know which direction they go. If they drive, I’ll want to know the color of the car, and the license tag if you can see it.’
Faye’s eyes were nervous, but she nodded quickly.
‘Got it.’
Frank pushed his door open, then glanced back at her.
‘And stay low in your seat,’ he warned. ‘Don’t let them see you.’
‘Okay.’
Frank got out and put his hat on, pulling the brim down.
‘Wish me luck,’ he muttered, then slammed the door shut and began walking back up the street. At the corner he turned left, following the sidewalk past a neighborhood deli and a pizza parlor, his eyes on the shiny new phone booth ahead of him. Pushing inside, he unfolded the napkin and took a brief moment to collect himself. Then he lifted the handset, dropped a nickel in the slot, and dialed the number.
Click.
‘Sugarhouse Haulage Company.’
The same gruff voice he’d spoken to yesterday. Good.
‘Let me talk to Ellis,’ he said.
There was recognition on the other end of the line, and the voice became hesitant.
‘Who wants him?’
Frank leaned into the mouthpiece.
‘Ellis is expecting my call,’ he snarled. ‘So quit stalling and go get him!’
There was a crackle and a series of muffled sounds, then a new voice came on the line.
‘This is Ellis. Who are you?’
Frank straightened up, staring out through the glass.
‘I’m the guy who can help you solve your missing persons problem.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Ellis sounded amused. ‘Who says I need any help?’
‘I do,’ Frank replied. ‘So far you’ve taken out a small-town cop, burned down an apartment building, and machine-gunned an old man in a hotel room. You’ve killed a lot of people, but none of them were the ones you’re after.’
There was moment of stunned silence, then Ellis’ voice returned, troubled.
‘Now listen, I don’t know anything–’
‘No, you really don’t,’ Frank said. ‘And that’s why you need my help, before you make things any worse for yourself.’
Another pause, then Ellis snapped back, angrily, ‘Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that?’
Frank smiled, leaning back against the inside of the booth.
‘I’m the one who’s gonna help you finish this,’ he said. There was a note of uncertainty in the other man’s voice; it was time to test their theory that he was working for someone else. ‘Now, I guess you’re getting paid for all this, right?’
‘Oh, and you’re gonna make me a better offer, is that it?’ Ellis sneered.
Staring out at the street, Frank shook his head.
‘No, I want to be paid, just like you.’ He paused for a second. ‘But there’s no reason why we can’t both do well out of it.’
Ellis hesitated.
‘What do you mean by that?’
He was trying to sound tough, but Frank could feel the anxiety in him.
‘Your boss didn’t tell you why he wanted Rye gone, did he?’ He spoke in a mocking tone.
‘No,’ Ellis snarled down the phone. ‘And I ain’t dumb enough to ask.’
Frank silently punched the air. Ellis was working for someone!
‘Listen,’ he said firmly. ‘I can deliver what your boss wants… what he really wants. He’ll have to pay for it, but I think that’s better than letting you kill half the city.’
‘What he really wants?’
Frank grinned and adopted a smug tone.
‘He didn’t tell you, did he?’
‘He told me enough,’ Ellis retorted.
‘Well, now I’m telling you: I can deliver the girl, and Rye, both alive…’ Frank paused, then added, ‘I might even fix things with the Kansas City PD, so they find someone else to pin that fire on.’
There was a long silence at the other end of the phone.
Had he pushed it too far? Would Ellis get mad and hang up on him?
He waited, straining to hear anything… then Ellis spoke again, his voice quieter, closer to the mouthpiece.
‘And what would you want?’
Frank closed his eyes. He had the bastard now.
‘Two grand, cash.’
‘Two grand?’
‘And I’ll cut you in for two hundred of that,’ Frank continued. ‘If you can make it happen by tomorrow.’
There was a pause, as though Ellis was thinking about this.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he asked.
Frank turned around in the booth, staring back along the sidewalk.
‘I’m your only way out of this mess,’ he said. ‘Now go speak to your boss, and see if he wants to pay for a nice neat solution, or if he’d rather have you shooting into the crowd on Main Street and hoping for the best.’
‘Now listen, whoever you are,’ Ellis hissed. ‘You don’t just–’
‘I’ll call again tomorrow,’ Frank said, and hung up the phone.
He stood for a moment, breathing hard. His hands were sweating and his muscles were tense, but it felt good to be calling the shots at last.
Ellis was just muscle – a hired-gun working for someone else – and the phone call had really shaken him up.
But which way would the bastard jump?
He stepped out of the phone booth, lit a cigarette, then turned and made his way back towards Campbell Street.
The next move was down to Ellis. If he agreed to a deal, they’d need to find somewhere to meet. But how could they possibly meet without Ellis bringing a squad of his thug friends? No, they’d have to arrange a meet, then try to hit Ellis earlier in the day, before he was ready. And that would mean tailing the bastard, figuring out where he lived…
Frank turned the corner, walking slowly. Reaching the Oldsmobile, he tossed his cigarette butt and opened the door.
‘Get in!’ Faye hissed at him. ‘Quickly!’
‘What is it?’ He’d been reaching to remove his hat, but now his hand went for his gun.
Faye pointed towards the warehouse.
‘It’s him!’
He turned, just in time to see the thin man walking briskly across the street, his head down.
Ellis was on the move.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, Frank started the engine just as the grey Chrysler pulled out into a broad U-turn and set off down the street. Eyes fixed on it, Frank nosed the Oldsmobile out from the curb and began to follow, keeping a good distance between them.
‘Well?’ Faye demanded. ‘Did you speak to him? What happened?’
They bumped over an intersection.
‘I think I got his attention,’ Frank mused. ‘And you were right about him working for someone else. I’m not sure who it is, but I got the feeling they don’t trust Ellis very much.’
‘Smart move,’ she said, squinting at the Chrysler up ahead of them. ‘You think that’s where he’s headed now?’
Frank gripped the steering wheel.
‘I guess we’re gonna find out.’
They drove for a while. Before long, it became clear that they were heading out of the city. As the houses and vacant lots gave way to trees and open fields, Frank pulled the sun visor down to shield his eyes.
‘Where are you going?’ he muttered under his breath.
Faye stared
out at the road, shading her eyes with her hand.
‘You think he’s running?’ she asked. ‘Just getting the hell out?’
Frank glanced over at her. He hadn’t considered that, but it was a possibility.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Maybe.’
‘But we still follow him, right?’
‘Yeah,’ Frank told her. ‘The way I see it, we don’t have any other choice.’
They’d been on the move for almost an hour when the Chrysler turned off onto a side road that led away into an expanse of rolling woodland. There was a little gas station by the turn-off, with a distinctive yellow ribbon tied around the sign pole.
Suddenly, Faye stiffened, then slumped back into her seat. Frank turned to look at her and saw that she’d clapped her hand across her mouth.
‘What is it?’ he asked, seeing the dread in her eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’
Faye shook her head slowly, then turned towards him.
‘I think I know where he’s taking us.’
Winter, 1944/45
Bern, Switzerland
35
Frank turned the corner and trudged along Waldheimstrasse, his shoes crunching through the thin crust of snow. Above him, the sky was darkening, the last golden glow on the horizon fading into a deep and distant blue. Walking across the intersection, he took a quick look behind him, but the street was deserted. Rubbing his hands together, he slipped around to the back of the building and started up the familiar steps of the fire escape. He moved quickly but quietly, remembering to be careful of the ice that formed below the roof gutters – impossible to see in the dark.
When he got to the window, he leaned down and rapped gently on the glass, then stood up, shivering. His breath bloomed out in pale clouds, billowing up into the evening sky.
There was movement, and a sliver of warm light flashed out across the fire escape, making the frost on the guard rails glitter. Molly’s face appeared at the window, her expression already breaking into a smile. She helped him to raise the window, then leaned out and whispered, ‘You’re late.’
‘Rafe wanted to talk,’ Frank said with a sigh. ‘Let me in; it’s cold out here!’
Molly stepped back, holding the blackout blind for him. Frank bent low to clamber inside, then turned around to slide the window shut.
‘Skies are clear,’ he said, gazing out across the silhouettes of the city, dark shapes topped with white rooftops. ‘I think it’s gonna snow again tonight.’
He stepped back, letting the blind drop into place, then turned to face Molly. She flung her arms around him, then stiffened.
‘Ugh!’ she gasped. ‘You’re freezing!’
Frank kissed her forehead then released her.
‘What did I tell you? It’s cold out there.’
‘Come over to the fire,’ she urged him. ‘Warm yourself up.’
‘Well, okay,’ Frank said. ‘But I was kinda hoping you might do that for me.’
Molly arched an eyebrow at him, but there was a faint smile playing on her lips.
‘We’ll see,’ she said, removing the blackened metal fire guard. ‘Come on.’
He moved over to stand by the fireplace, holding out his hands to the small glowing grate, and feeling the prickle of heat as his face began to thaw.
‘Oh yeah,’ he sighed. ‘That’s good.’
Molly smiled at him.
‘Shall I make us some gluhwein?’ she asked. ‘It won’t take long.’
Frank nodded.
‘That’d be perfect.’
Molly opened the closet and lifted out a dark green bottle, followed by the little patterned tin where she kept her precious stash of spices and sugar. Moving across to the stove, she began pouring wine into a small pan.
‘So,’ she said, glancing over at him, ‘what did Rafe want to talk about?’
‘Oh, some conversation he thinks he overheard between Dulles and Swift.’ Frank yawned, feeling the heat returning to his hands. ‘But you know what Rafe’s like for getting excited over things.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Molly gave a sigh as she switched on the stove. ‘What was it this time?’
‘Something about Dulles being lined up as station chief for an OSS office in Berlin.’
‘Berlin?’
‘I know, it’s kind of crazy.’ Frank shook his head wearily. ‘I mean, I get that the war’s going well, but the Germans haven’t surrendered yet.’
‘And they won’t, as long as Hitler’s still in charge,’ Molly said, then frowned. ‘Assuming he is still in charge, of course.’
Frank looked over at her and nodded. It had started out as whispers among the embassy staff but speculation was certainly growing.
‘No speeches in the last six weeks… and nobody’s even seen the little rat-bastard in public, not since the bombing in July.’ He turned back to stare into the flames. ‘I think Rafe’s right about one thing: I think the Führer’s injuries were a lot worse than they let on.’
Molly added some spices as she slowly stirred the pan.
‘It would explain the change in their strategy,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Militarily, I mean.’
‘The withdrawal from France…’
‘And in the east, too.’ Molly said. ‘They’re conserving their forces so much more than before, trying to slow the Russians down rather than fighting battles they can’t win.’
‘I wonder who’s pulling the strings now,’ Frank mused. ‘Göring, I suppose.’
Molly stopped stirring and gazed down at the stove.
‘When I was last in London, I was speaking to…’ She hesitated, then continued. ‘I spoke to someone about Hitler. He told me they’d had several opportunities to get him, but that an assassination was actually the last thing they wanted. The reasoning was that Hitler didn’t listen to his generals, and almost anyone who succeeded him would do a better job, so I suppose it’s not just who’s pulling the strings, it’s who they’re listening to.’
‘Knowing our luck, that’s probably Rommel,’ Frank said, with a sigh. He glanced across at her. ‘Hey, the wine’s starting to smell good.’
Molly peered down into the saucepan.
‘I think it’s about as mulled as it’s likely to get,’ she said. ‘Hang your coat on the fireguard then get me a couple of cups, will you?’
Frank nodded slowly.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, straightening up and pulling off his coat.
Molly glanced up from the stove with a slight smile.
‘I’ve told you about calling me that,’ she said. ‘I’m not royalty.’
Frank carefully draped the coat over the fire guard, then moved over to stand behind her, circling his arms about her waist and nuzzling her hair.
‘Well, maybe you are to me,’ he whispered.
They pulled the chairs over to face the fire and sat down with the hot wine. Frank lit two cigarettes and passed one to Molly.
‘Thanks.’ She took a slow drag and blew out a long stream of smoke. ‘Have you thought about what you’ll do? After the war, I mean?’
‘After?’ Frank sat back in his chair. When the attack had come on Pearl Harbor, with conflict raging across Europe, the future had looked so uncertain; there hadn't seemed much point in planning too far ahead. ‘I haven't really considered it.’
‘I thought you’d be eager to get back to America,’ Molly said.
Frank shrugged.
‘I guess so,’ he admitted. ‘But there’s nothing special waiting for me back there. And it’s not as though I had my life all mapped out.’
Molly smiled.
‘Most people know what they want,’ she said. ‘Or think they do, anyway.’
‘Not me.’ Frank leaned over to flick his cigarette ash into the grate. ‘Maybe that’s why I enlisted.’
Molly studied him, firelight dancing in her eyes.
‘Well, I think you’re very wise not to plan too far ahead,’ she said. ‘If you don’t expect too much, you probably won’t be disappointed.’
Frank grinned and took a sip of his drink.
‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘Any grand plans?’
Molly appeared to consider this.
‘Not really,’ she replied. ‘But I can see myself staying on the continent. Here, in Switzerland maybe… or even in Germany. There’s sure to be a lot of important work to do when the fighting stops but… oh, I don’t know.’
Frank looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly.
‘Hey, I could see myself living in Germany.’
Molly gave him a brief smile, then lowered her eyes. Lifting her cup, she took a sip then pulled a face.
‘This would have been better if I'd had some orange juice,’ she apologized. ‘But you just can’t get it any more…’
‘Hey, it tastes good, and it’s hot,’ Frank told her, warming his hands on the cup. ‘It’s fine.’
Molly glanced up at him.
‘You’re easily pleased,’ she said.
‘Well, I’m just glad to have you back.’ He tossed his cigarette butt into the fire, then reached over and placed a hand on her arm. ‘You’ve spent so much time away lately.’
Molly looked down and sighed.
‘I know. I wish I didn’t have to but…’ She shook her head slightly. ‘It can’t be helped, I’m afraid.’
With France liberated, Switzerland was no longer surrounded by enemy territory and that made travel a lot simpler. But with Molly's eastern connections, Frank didn't think she'd been spending much of her time in France.
‘Where were you this time?’ he asked. Rafe had said it was probably Czechoslovakia, but he hadn’t sounded too sure.
Molly gave him an unhappy look.
‘Please, Frank. You know I can’t.’
He held her gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes.
‘Yeah, yeah… I get it,’ he sighed. ‘I just worry about you, okay?’
Molly’s expression warmed a little.
‘Nothing’s going to happen to me,’ she assured him.
‘You don’t know that. When Jean…’ He broke off, bowing his head, then mumbled, ‘Sorry.’
After a moment, he felt her hand on his shoulder.
‘Is that what’s troubling you?’ Her voice was quieter now.
Ashes Of America Page 24