Gerta blinked in surprise. That she had not expected. Von Kleuron tapped the folder open before her; a picture of John was clipped to the front sheet. Gerta recognized it; it was a duplicate of one she’d gotten from him. She also recognized the correspondence tucked into the inner jacket of the file; of course, she’d submitted all her letters for approval before sending, and turned over copies of all his immediately. Plus, the Fourth Bureau would have their own from the censors in the postal system, but that was another department.
“As in my reports, Colonel. Intelligent and resourceful, and, as I remember him as a boy, with considerable nerve and determination. Certainly he overcame his handicap well. From what he’s accomplished in the Republic over the last twelve years, he’s become a formidable man.”
“His attitude towards the Chosen?”
“I think he had reservations even as a boy. Now?” She shrugged. “Impossible to say. We don’t discuss politics, only family matters.”
“Weaknesses?”
“Sentimentality.” The Landisch word she used could also mean “squeamishness.”
“Are you aware that Johan Hosten has become an operative for the Republic’s Foreign Intelligence Service? As well as a diplomat.” The last was a little pedantic; in Landisch, diplomat and spy were related words.
Gerta’s eyebrows went up slightly. “No, sir, I wasn’t aware of that. I’m not surprised.”
“It has been decided at a high level to attempt to enlist the subject as a double agent. We are authorized to waive Testing and offer Chosen status, and appropriate rank.”
Gerta frowned. It smacked of an improvisation, not a good idea on the eve of a major war. On the other hand, John would be an asset if he could be turned . . . and it would be pleasant to have him on-side. If possible. It was obvious why she’d been brought in; she was the only Chosen intelligence operative with a personal link to John. Heinrich had known him as well, but he was a straight-leg, an infantry officer. And far more conspicuous in Ciano; her height and physical type was far more common in the Empire than his.
On the other hand, women who could bench-press twice their own weight were not common here, and she hoped very much she wouldn’t have to try looking like an Imperial belle in a low-cut dress. She didn’t even know how to walk in a skirt.
Behfel ist Behfel. “How am I tasked, sir?”
* * *
John tapped his walking stick against the front of the cab. “Driver, pull up.”
The horses clattered to a halt, and the driver set the brake and jumped to the cobblestones to open the door.
“Signore?” he said, looking around.
They were in a district of upper-middle-class homes, about halfway between the theater district north of the main railway station and the apartment John kept near the Santander embassy.
“I’ve changed my mind, I’m going to walk home,” he said.
Shameless self-indulgence, he thought. He should make up for taking an evening off at the opera with Pia by going straight home and reading files. On the other hand, he had his cover as a effete diplomat to maintain. The Santander diplomatic service was supposed to be a harmless dumping ground for well-connected upper-class playboys. Many of them were, and the rest found it useful camouflage.
He paid the cabbie the full value of his intended trip, and the horses clattered off through the dark.
Ciano was a pleasant city to walk through, this part at least, on a warm spring night. The sidewalk was brick, with trees at four-meter intervals—oaks, he thought—and cast-iron lampstands rather less frequently. Most of the houses on either side had wrought-iron railings separating them from the street, often overgrown with climbing roses or honeysuckle. The gaslights gave a diffuse glow to the scene, soft yellow light on the undersides of the trees; the street had a melancholy feel, like most of the Imperial capital, a dreamy sense of past glories and a long sleep filled with reverie.
John twirled the walking stick and strolled, unclasping his opera cloak and throwing it over his left arm. It was very quiet, the air smelling of dew and roses. Quiet enough that he heard the footsteps not long after Center’s warning.