‘What have you been doing today, Clara?’

‘Oh, stuff. Mother Hildegard gave me some maths to do.’ Clara decided not to mention her fifteen-minute call to Helga. ‘Then I helped Sister Agnes feed the piglets and collect the eggs. I want one.’

‘You want an egg?’

‘No, a piglet. But I don’t think piglets are allowed in Vienna.’

‘They don’t stay so small and cute for long, you know. You’d soon have a great big smelly pig living in your house.’

Clara grinned. ‘I already have one,’ she said. ‘My daddy.’

‘That’s a terrible thing to say, Clara.’ But Leigh couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Leigh?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Can I have a look at your gold locket?’

‘Yes, of course you can.’ Leigh reached behind her neck and undid the slim chain. The shiny oyster-shaped locket dangled from her fingers as she handed it to the child.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Clara turned it over in her hand, admiring the delicate engraving of Leigh’s initials. She found a little catch on the side and pressed it, and the halves of the oyster sprang open with a click. Set into the two halves, facing each other, were tiny miniature photographic portraits of three people. ‘Who are they?’ she asked.

Leigh leaned across and pointed. ‘These two people here together on this side are my parents,’ she said.

‘Your mummy’s pretty,’ Clara said. She studied the other picture. ‘The man on the other side looks like you.’

She nodded. ‘My brother, Oliver.’

‘Where do they live?’

‘In heaven,’ Leigh replied, after a pause.

Clara understood. ‘All of them?’

‘Yes, all of them. I’m the last one left of the whole family.’

‘My mummy’s up in heaven too. Do you think maybe she knows your brother and your mummy and daddy?’

Leigh smiled sadly at a child’s notion of death. ‘I’m sure they probably do all know each other very well.’

‘What do you think people do in heaven?’

‘They play, and have fun, I suppose.’

‘That’s not so bad. I like playing.’

‘You want to play now?’

Clara nodded enthusiastically. ‘Let’s go out and play the find game Ben taught me and Max.’

Leigh was glad of the excuse to quit moping and get out of the cottage. She slipped on a pair of boots and a quilted jacket, and they walked out into the snow. The sky was the clearest blue, and the sun was sparkling off the mountains. They walked through the farmyard, towards the main convent buildings. Max loved the snow and was cavorting about in it, sending up a fine spray. From the little stone chapel Leigh could hear the nuns doing their choir practice. She knew the piece they were singing, one of Palestrina’s choral chants.

‘You hide first,’ Clara said. ‘Let’s see if Maxy remembers the game.’

Leigh ran around the corner of a woodshed and squatted down behind an ornamental shrub. She heard Clara finish counting to ten and saying, ‘Max, go find Leigh! Find Leigh!’ Max instantly responded and came bounding over to her. He licked her face and she patted his big head.

Over the sweet, harmonious sound of the nuns’ singing came the steady thud of helicopter blades. Leigh looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. There were two of them, high over the convent. They seemed to be moving slowly, hovering. ‘Someone must have got into trouble in the mountains,’ she said. But as the choppers grew nearer, the thump of their rotors filling the air, she could see they didn’t look like mountain rescue aircraft. They were black, unmarked. What did they want?

Clara followed her gaze for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. ‘Anyway, now it’s my turn to hide. You hold Maxy by his collar and count to twenty.’

The child ran off. Leigh was still watching the two black helicopters as she counted. Eight, nine, ten, eleven … They were circling, descending, drowning out the nuns’ choir.

They were coming awfully close.

Leigh shivered. She didn’t like it. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…

Enough. She stopped counting. ‘Clara!’ she called out. ‘Come back!’

Clara didn’t hear, and kept running. The dog was pulling hard against Leigh’s grip, yearning to be set free. The helicopters were now only a hundred feet off the ground and the sound was deafening. They vanished from view behind the convent roofs. They were landing.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Leigh let go of Max’s collar, and the big dog streaked across the snow towards where Clara had just disappeared round the side of one of the buildings.

Clara ran on, counting as she went. Any minute now, Maxy was going to come galloping after her. She glanced over her shoulder to see if he was there.

And gasped as she collided with something hard. She fell backwards into the snow.

A tall man she’d never seen before was looking down at her. His eyes were cold, and he wasn’t smiling.

Vienna

Black clouds scudded across the sky, and the wind was icy. Ben bought a copy of Die Presse from a newspaper stand. It was nearly midday but he wasn’t hungry. He was leaning against a wall reading it on the corner of Bankgasse and Löwelstrasse opposite the towering façade of the Burgtheater when he spotted Kinski’s car pull out of the traffic. The cop barely slowed to pick him up. Ben got in and the big car powered away.

‘Might want this back.’ Ben tossed the police ID onto Kinski’s lap.

‘You bastard. I’ve been looking for that everywhere.’

‘Did you get the stuff?’ Ben asked.

Kinski nodded. ‘Back seat. Little blue bag.’

Ben turned round to grab it. He saw the black Audi Quattro through the rear window, three cars back. ‘Someone’s tailing us,’ he said.

‘You’re good. It’s OK. They’re my guys.’

‘How much do they know?’

‘No more than they need to know, if that,’ Kinski said.

Ben nodded. He grabbed the small flight bag off the back seat, turned back round and unzipped it on his lap. There were five identical oblong card boxes, six inches long and four wide. They had FEDERAL emblazoned in bold letters across the top and .45 ACP 230 Gr. FMJ CENTERFIRE PISTOL CARTRIDGES printed on the side. He opened one of the boxes. Inside it was a red plastic tray with fifty half-inch round holes, ten rows of five, a gleaming cartridge in each one. Fifty rounds a box, two hundred and fifty rounds. He was pleased. ‘All untraceable?’

‘Come on, what do you take me for?’ Kinski said.

‘You’ll tell me what I owe you?’

‘Forget it. I don’t need your money. Did your train ride pay off?’

Ben reached into his haversack and took out the empty Para-Ordnance. He thumbed the magazine release. The mag dropped out. He locked open the action of the pistol and laid it on his lap. ‘It certainly did.’

‘You found out something?’ Kinski asked.

‘I know everything.’ Ben quickly ran through what Christa had told him.

Kinski listened hard. His coarse features were puckered in concentration as he pushed the 4 × 4 through the aggressive Vienna traffic. ‘But why was Oliver so interested in getting inside the house?’

‘I’m coming to that,’ Ben said. ‘Christa’s place is a cyber-café. After I spoke to her I went online. I did more research. I cross-referenced everything. It all checks out. I found out a lot. Remember I asked you about Adler?’

Kinski nodded.

‘Adler is the key,’ Ben said. ‘It wasn’t a code. It was a name. Von Adler. Count von Adler.’

‘I’ve heard that name.’

‘What about the name Kroll?’

Kinski shook his head.

‘Same family,’ Ben said. ‘Here’s what I found out. Viktor Kroll was head of the Austrian secret police from 1788 to 1796. He was awarded land and title for services to the Empire by Josef II. He became Count von Adler and was given a palatial house and estate near Vienna.’