The 34th Degree

41

O ne thing Andros had to admit that night as they lay awake in bed was that Elise-if that was her real name-threw herself into her work. She also proved with her relentless, breathless questions that she knew Swiss banking inside and out.

“Pierre has a theory about the Andros fortune, darling,” she told him as she drew hearts on his chest with her finger.

“Really?” By now Andros could see that Monsieur Gilbert was not the discreet Swiss banker he had portrayed himself to be. Unless this woman had worked her bedside charms on him, too. “And what theory is that?”

“He thinks your father transported more than Greek wine, grains, and tobacco.”

“Opium? Ridiculous.”

“No, darling. Arms, guns, explosives. Most recently, to Franco during the Spanish civil war. He got to feed his favorite fascist causes and send his son to the best boarding schools at the same time.”

“Interesting,” Andros replied. “What do you think?”

She sighed. “I think how terrible it must feel to be sitting on a fortune and not be able to touch a single franc.” Her forlorn voice sounded as if it were her money they were talking about.

“So what do you suggest, Elise?”

“You could wait out the war here in Bern with me. We could make love with the Alps behind us and a lifetime ahead, whichever side wins.”

She didn’t mean it. He even doubted she expected him to believe her. He smiled to himself as he resisted the impulse to say “Yes, darling, yes. That’s what I want to do. To spend my life in these sheets with you,” then watch her charm herself out of that. But it would do nothing to advance his agenda-getting into Greece-or, for that matter, hers, which was finding out his agenda.

“A pleasant thought,” he said absently. “But what if my company should go under in the meantime? I don’t think you count paupers among your acquaintances, and that’s what I’ll be. And then I foresee a rather abrupt end to our relationship, don’t you?”

She laughed. “Chris, darling, you really are too funny.”

Andros looked toward the window, where the darkness outside was brighter than in the room. “No, I think the answer is in Greece.”

“Why would you risk your life to go back to Greece, darling?” She rubbed her hand across his chest. “What does Athens offer you that Bern doesn’t?”

“Family, for starters. My uncle Mitchell and grandmother are in Athens. I’m naturally curious to see how they’re getting along.”

“What else?”

“Money. If I can get enough cash to keep Andros Shipping afloat, then the trip will be worth it.”

“But what good is your money if you are dead, darling?”

“Let’s just say I have business to attend to.”

She laughed and kissed his neck. “Monkey business.”

“You mean the black market?” he said, innocently putting the idea in her head. “I’m sure with my ships, I could make out pretty well by the end of the war. What do you think?”

“I think that if you are intent on abandoning me for Greece, I do have a friend who could possibly help you…”

Andros grew still as she continued to draw hearts on his chest with her finger, sighing with affection. He wondered if she could feel his heart beat just a little faster. “You think this friend of yours could help?”

“More so than the Americans or the Swiss, I should think.”

“And where could I find this friend of yours?”

“Oh, at the German Legation. He’s a military attache, so lonely, being apart from his family and all, quite pathetic. Not at all like you.”

And what am I like? Andros asked himself. Elise was giving him what he had been after, but it had cost him his moral integrity. He had broken his vows to Aphrodite and slept with the enemy. How much more like the enemy would he have to become in order to win this war? It was a moot question, he realized grimly. Now that he was in the game, there was no room for wavering. “The German Legation, you say?”

“Yes, but he won’t be in until Monday, which gives us the entire weekend together-”

“Darling,” said Andros, completing the thought.