Maggie pulled herself out of Randall’s lap with as much decorum as she could manage. “Then why warn us? Why let us know we’re being watched? Surely it would only make us more careful.”
Leopold shrugged. “Who is to say? The secret police get as much pleasure from playing with their victims as they get from accomplishing anything. They are very stupid men, usually from the northern provinces.” His sneering voice made it clear that he was from the more intellectually gifted southern provinces. “Very bad men, too. We will have to be careful.” He veered around another corner, and once more Maggie landed in Randall’s lap in a tangle of arms and legs.
Once more she struggled to extricate herself, but this time his long arms wrapped around her, holding her in his lap, and her struggles were useless. “Will you take your hands off me?” she demanded in a furious hiss.
“No. You’ll just end up back here the next time Leopold turns a corner, and I’m getting bruised from the impact,” he said in his most impassive tone of voice. “Besides, we have company. Don’t we, Leopold?”
“Yes, mister,” Leopold agreed as the aging Fiat bucked forward with truly impressive speed. “They’ve been following us for a while now. But not to worry. I, Leopold, will lose them. I’m the best driver in Gemansk, better even than my brother Vasili was in his heyday. You have nothing to fear.”
Maggie had stopped her struggles for a moment. “Vasili was your brother?”
Leopold grinned in the rearview mirror, apparently entirely unmoved at his passengers’ complicity in his brother’s death. Or perhaps he was simply ignorant of it. “One of five,” he said proudly. “But none of them are as strong, as brave, as Vasili. Vasili is very much a man.”
Randall’s arms had seemingly relaxed, and Maggie tried to jerk away from him. She was yanked back into his arms, held there by brute force, and there was nothing she could do short of punching him in the groin to release herself.
“Stay put, Maggie,” Randall muttered into her ear, his temper finally overriding his usual calm, “or I’ll strangle you.”
The Fiat was moving at incredible speed at this point, and the gloomy landscape was whizzing by. Maggie shut her eyes for a moment. “I dare you,” she said wearily, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“Don’t tempt me.” His fingers were no longer biting into her upper arms; they were holding, almost caressing her.
“Hold on,” Leopold shouted from the front seat as they once more veered around the corner, probably on two wheels or even on one. And then they were bouncing over a stubbled field, and there was nothing Maggie could do but clutch at Randall and curse under her breath.
A breathless lifetime later, they finally rattled to a stop beneath a bridge next to a dry stream bed. Leopold killed the engine and turned to grin at them proudly. Maggie finally released Randall’s arm and opened her eyes in weary relief. There was no one around, no sound or sign of pursuit.
She crawled off Randall’s lap, and this time he let her go. His eyes were trained on the front seat. Maggie followed his gaze directly into the barrel of Leopold’s gun. He was still smiling that beatific smile.
“And now, mister, you will tell me what happened to my brother Vasili,” he said gently.
thirteen
Maggie sat staring at the gun barrel, staring at Leopold’s charming young face, so very like his older brother’s. He had the gun trained quite negligently on Randall, obviously underestimating the female of the species, and she considered for a moment whether she could take him. She could, but not without considerable risk to Randall’s impeccable gray suit. He wouldn’t care to have powder burns in his breast pocket. Regretfully she leaned back against the seat, still alert for possibilities.
“What do you mean?” Randall said with deceptive ease. She could feel the tension running through him; his muscles were coiled and ready to spring at the first sign of weakness. He wouldn’t worry about powder burns marring her rumpled suit, she thought wryly. She’d better be prepared to duck, and duck fast.
“Don’t play games with me, mister,” Leopold said evenly. “My brother was shot down by the secret police when you were last in Gemansk. No one will talk about the details of that time, and before I help you any further, I want to know what happened.”
“I might feel more talkative if you put that gun away,” Randall drawled.
“But I would feel less inclined to listen.” The gun stayed where it was. “I’m getting impatient, mister.”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” Maggie said. “He wasn’t there when Vasili was shot. I was.”
The gun turned to her. “Then you tell me, miss. Tell me what you know about what happened to my brother on that day.”
“Maggie!”
“Shut up, Randall,” she said fiercely. “He has a right to know what happened to his brother. We don’t have anything to hide. God knows, I’ve felt guilty enough over the years, but it wasn’t our fault. Not really.”
“I will decide whose fault it is,” Leopold said. “What was
Vasili doing at the border? Was he going to escape to the west?”
Maggie shook her head. “He was making sure I got out safely. Randall—Randall still had unfinished business, and he sent me out ahead of him. Vasili accompanied me of his own accord. He—”
“You don’t need to explain my brother to me, miss. He could never resist a pretty face.”
“We took the train to the border. When he got off, the police were waiting for him. He didn’t wait for any questions—he ran. And they—they shot him in the back.” Her voice was deceptively cool, her eyes anguished at the memory.