Barbara Bradford Taylor

The Cavendon Luck


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don’t. But it is a workable plan, a good one,’ Diedre asserted.

      ‘What happens when the girl gets to Paris?’

      ‘He’ll take her to the British Embassy, where she’ll get an entry visa for Britain. It will be waiting for her. And then they’ll take the train to London together, and I’ll pick it up from there.’

      ‘Do you think Germans who are Jewish and have a “J” stamped on their passports are likely to travel, to go on a break?’ Tony pursed his lips. ‘I can’t help wondering if the guards might not think it odd. And there are often Gestapo on the trains.’

      ‘I understand what you’re saying, but the “J” is to proclaim they’re Jewish. It’s not to stop them going anywhere. The passport is valid. Look, they have a passport, nobody’s taken it away from them.’

      ‘Right. I get your point. So the stamped passport should not really be a stumbling block. However, I’ll see if I can get a new one. But it won’t be easy, and it’ll be costly.’

      ‘Thank you. And money is no object, Tony. Whatever is needed.’

      ‘What happens if I manage to obtain two exit visas? Does that mean Mrs Steinbrenner will be going, which would make everything easier, don’t you think?’ Tony cocked his head on one side, eyeing his boss curiously.

      ‘I do indeed, but I believe the professor will want his son to get out. At least that’s what Cecily has said to me. That will have to be last-minute planning.’

      Tony nodded, and then said carefully, ‘Going back to problems. Let’s say the American gent and the girl jump ship in Aachen. Where will they go? They’ll be adrift. We don’t have a safe house there any more.’

      ‘We do, actually,’ Diedre told him. ‘I had confirmation on Monday of this week that it’s ours now. I’ll give you the details later. Now, what is the name of the person I’m going to meet tomorrow, the one who might help with a suitcase?’

      ‘I’ll tell you over lunch,’ he said.

      The restaurant was in a narrow alley in the middle of a tangled web of back streets in an unfashionable part of Berlin. But they served the best homemade Bavarian food and it had been Tony’s favourite for several years. He was a regular, and because of his inherent charm, good manners and generous tips, he was treated royally by Frau Weber, the proprietor, and the waiters.

      He always had the same table in a corner near the front door with his back to the wall. He could easily see everyone who entered and left, and, if necessary, he could be out of there in a flash.

      Diedre loved the little restaurant as well, and whenever she was in Berlin, Tony took her there. And that was where they were headed when they left the Tiergarten and hailed a taxi on Tiergartenstrasse.

      After receiving a warm welcome from Frau Weber, they were shown to Tony’s usual table, and within minutes tall glasses of lemonade appeared along with the menus. Neither of them drank alcohol when they were working. After a few sips of the lemonade, Tony leaned closer to Diedre, and said, ‘I’d like to tell you about my new contact before we order.’

      ‘Yes, yes, do,’ Diedre said, ‘I want to know all about her.’

      ‘I don’t know too much, but certainly enough for you to understand where she’s coming from, the background of her rather turbulent life.’

      ‘Turbulent?’ Diedre raised a brow questioningly, frowning. Turbulent backgrounds alarmed her.

      ‘Yes, I’m afraid so, although she seems intact on the surface: controlled, calm. Anyway, here goes. Her name is Princess Irina Troubetzkoy. Her father, Prince Igor Troubetzkoy, was murdered in 1917, when Irina was about six and her mother, Princess Natalie, in her early twenties. Because of his death and the fall of the Romanov autocracy, they fled Russia. It is my understanding that her mother is a cousin of the late Tsar, by the way.’ Tony paused, took a swallow of lemonade.

      Diedre said, ‘And so they came to Berlin?’

      ‘No, they didn’t, at least not at first. They were in various countries, and spent quite some time in Poland, where they had close friends in the Polish aristocracy. Ten years ago they came to Berlin and stayed, tired of being refugees apparently and wandering from country to country.’

      ‘Did her mother work? Or Irina when she was older? How did they manage to live, do you know?’

      Tony shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. But I don’t think Princess Natalie worked, or Irina when she grew up. The person who introduced me to Irina just recently implied that they had managed to escape with a lot of jewellery and some money, and certain Romanov relatives who had also escaped helped them financially.’

      ‘It’s the same story about many White Russians who fled the revolution. But I will say this, those I’ve met proved to be very resilient, and commendable.’

      ‘Good words to use. I think Princess Irina and her mother must have been extremely resilient indeed over the years. Anyway, the good news is that Princess Natalie recently married a Prussian Baron, a widower, and at last they have a real home. The Herr Baron has a house on Lützowufer, and all seems to be well with them, and the marriage is a grand success, so I’m told.’

      ‘Happy endings warm the heart,’ Diedre murmured quietly. ‘So, what makes you think Princess Irina can help us get an exit visa, or visas?’

      ‘I’m sure it will be only one, Diedre, the way things are at the moment.’ Tony leaned back in the chair, looking off into the interior of the restaurant. At last he said, quietly, ‘A close friend in my line of work who’s at another foreign embassy in Berlin tipped me off that Irina often works with an underground anti-Nazi group. The ones helping Jews, dissidents, and Catholics to leave Germany. He made me swear to keep her secret a secret.’

      ‘I fully understand. Your secret is my secret. How old is she?’

      ‘I figured out she must be in her mid-twenties since she was six in 1917. She was probably born in 1911. She’s attractive, rather good looking, in fact, and loaded with charisma. She appears to have led a life of ease and luxury, when that’s quite to the contrary. But you’ll meet her tomorrow.’

      ‘I assume I’m meeting her as an English socialite and not a woman who works at the War Office?’

      ‘Correct, and that’s why I’m so pleased you have Lady Daphne and her husband with you, and your brother and his wife … it all plays well for me. You’re important British visitors on holiday in Berlin.’

      Diedre nodded. ‘I agree, and that means you’ll be doing the asking, dealing directly with Princess Irina?’

      ‘Yes, I will. Don’t worry about that. You’ve got to keep your cover. Obviously. Now, let’s order. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.’

      Diedre smiled at him. ‘So am I, but I must be careful. This food is so tempting, I always eat everything, and then have to starve myself for a week. And I can’t put on any weight at the moment. I’m living in borrowed clothes from Daphne and Cecily. I only had a few things with me when I did an errand in Geneva, and then decided to stay in Zurich to be with Daphne and the others.’

      ‘And just look where you ended up. With me. And that’s been good because we’ve been able to have a proper talk without fear of eavesdroppers. And we’ve made a plan.’

      ‘Now everything depends on you, Tony.’ Picking up the menu, Diedre stared at it, but her mind was on the days ahead and what she had to do.

      Looking up from the menu, she added, ‘I’m afraid I shall stick with my usual … Bockwurst and sauerkraut, with potato pancakes and apple sauce first.’

      He laughed. ‘I’m having the same, I love their Bavarian white sausage.’ He frowned, then said, ‘I would love to have a cold beer, but I suppose I can’t.’

      ‘I’d join you if I could, but we daren’t drink,