The Bormann Testament by Jack Higgins Page B

something important, something worthwhile. Nothing else seemed to matter.”
    “And now?”
    She sighed. “Now I am in love.” She laughed briefly. “For me it’s a new experience. I haven’t had time before. But you jumped into my life feet-first. You appeared in my line of vision and I couldn’t possibly avoid you.”
    “Are you sorry I did?”
    For a moment, she hesitated, and then she flicked her cigarette down into the water and shook her head. “No, if I regretted having known you, I’d be regretting life itself.” For a moment longer, she stared out over the water at the ship disappearing into the night, and then she turned and said in a low, intense voice, “Is there anything for us, Paul? Can we ever get away from this sort of life?”
    He stared out into the darkness and thought about it. How many times during the last five years had he been at this stage in a job? One jump ahead of trouble with the prospect of more to come, treading the razor edge of danger. Half his life seemed to be spent under cover of darkness, meeting strange people in even stranger places. And when all was said and done, when everything was finally under wraps, to what ultimate purpose?
    Was any of it worth what he held now in the hollow of his hand? He looked across at her, at the despondent droop of her shoulders, and as he watched, she took a deep breath and straightened.
    She smiled bravely. “I wonder if Mark will be on time.”
    He reached across. “To hell with Mark. To hell with the whole bloody show. For two pins, I’d walk out now. We could take the Volkswagen and drive to Holland, cross the border on foot before daylight. I’ve got friends in Rotterdam—good friends.”
    She shook her head slowly. “But you won’t, will you, Paul? The job comes before everything—remember telling me that? And it’s a fine principle and an honest one.”
    If anything, he loved her even more for saying it. He leaned across until their faces were almost touching, and said urgently, “But afterwards, Anna? With any luck, we’ll have this whole thing wrapped up within two or three days. I could pack the game in then.”
    She seemed to be infected by his own enthusiasm, and a faint flush of excitement tinged her cheeks. “Do you really mean it, Paul? But where would we go?”
    He smiled. “Hell, what does it matter? Israel, if you like. Perhaps I could get a job lecturing at this Hebrew University of yours.”
    She sighed and shook her head. “I’m afraid we suffer from a surplus of intellectuals.”
    He shrugged. “All right, then. We’ll go back to the land. My grandfather was a Breton farmer—I’d probably manage to hold my own on that kibbutz you told me about.”
    “Near Migdal where I was raised?” she said. “That would be wonderful, Paul. Of all things, I think that would be the most wonderful.”
    “We could climb that hill of yours,” he said. “I can see us now. A fine warm afternoon with no one else for miles.”
    “And what would you do when we reached the top?”
    He grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d find something.”
    She reached across and touched his face gently and shook her head in mock disapproval.
    From another café a little way along the strand someone played an accordion, and the music drifted sweetly across the water, a little sad, transitory, like the autumn leaves that the small wind scattered from the trees at the water’s edge, and Chavasse pulled her to her feet and into his arms and they danced alone there on the terrace, her head against his shoulder.
    For a little while, it was as she had wanted it to be and nothing else seemed to matter, just the two of them there on the terrace alone, and then there was a slight, polite cough and they drew apart hastily to find Mark Hardt standing looking at them, a strange expression on his face.
    “So you got here,” Chavasse said, rather pointlessly, and they all sat down at the table.
    “You two seem to have been enjoying yourselves,”