A City of Broken Glass (Hannah Vogel) by Cantrell Rebecca

Author:Cantrell, Rebecca [Cantrell, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2012-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

16

Lars and I came to the blanket. I took one end, Lars the other. We shook off the grass and folded it in half, then stepped close together. Our knuckles touched. I admired the way his eyes crinkled in a little arc in the corners when he smiled like that. It was his first real smile since before Poland. I smiled back.

“Spatz.” His voice was low. “You never answered my question.”

I glanced over his shoulder at Anton halfway up a tree.

I took the blanket from his hand and completed the final folds before giving it back. I did not know what to say, and I could not even begin to discuss it with Anton seconds away.

I cleared my throat. “I need someone who can make inquiries without being suspicious. A policeman.”

“Despite what I just said,” he said. “I am no longer a policeman.”

“I know,” I said.

He hung the blanket over his arm. “But I can make inquiries.”

“Not you.” I pulled my gold watch out of my satchel. “I need to run an errand, alone.”

“Dare I ask what it is?” He straightened his hat again, a nervous habit.

“I want to talk to a friend and find out where Herr Silbert is. Can you mind Anton?”

“I have sources I could contact about Herr Silbert.”

“As do I.” I did not trust his sources, and I was still unsure if I trusted him, in spite of what he had said on the blanket. He had told me that he loved me before, but it had not been enough for him to meet me in Switzerland, or even to tell me that he was still alive.

I could see that he wanted to argue the point, but he merely said, “How long do you need?”

I watched Anton climb down the tree with the rescued kite. “A few hours?”

“Some days,” Lars said, “I feel like an errand boy.”

“But a reliable one?” I asked.

He smiled. “Full service. And don’t forget it.”

Anton jogged across the field, winding up the kite string. “Really?” I asked.

Lars touched my shoulder. “Oh, yes.”

Anton reached us. “The rib cracked when it hit the ground.”

“We can repair it later,” Lars said. “I believe your mother has a mission.”

“A mission?” Anton smiled conspiratorially. “What’s my part?”

“Helping me take a stolen lorry to an illegal shop to have it painted,” Lars said.

Anton looked delighted.

“Lars,” I said, “could you not think of something more—?”

“You have errands to perform,” he said. “As do I.”

I put his Lars Lang and Lars Schmidt passports in my satchel. With luck, Herr Silbert could use the German entry stamp on the Lars Lang passport for both Schmidt passports, and Anton’s. I had a goodly amount of Swiss francs. If I found Herr Silbert, it ought to be all he needed.

We arranged to meet at five o’clock at the Brandenburg Gate. I kissed Anton good-bye, and he let me. I did not kiss Lars, although I was tempted when he proffered his cheek.

Before I went down the stairs to the subway, I turned around to wave good-bye one last time.

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