Jack Ludlow - A Bitter Field

‘His agents?’ Cal was thinking of Veseli.

‘His to decide on.’ Quex stood. ‘Now I must go and seek to advise a government intent on adding to their foolishness.’

‘Not possible.’

‘Oh it is, Mr Jardine. They are talking about guaranteeing Poland’s borders.’

‘Vince, in my bag is a fortune in German marks. Could you do me a favour and take it to Prague and then fly home from there? Give it to Elsa Ephraim at the Jewish Emigration Centre and tell her it comes from the Reichsbank. She will be tickled to think she’s using their money to get her people to freedom.’

The last person to talk to was Corrie and she was very mature. ‘You’re not free to marry and I’m not willing to give up my career.’

‘So how do we stay in touch?’

She tapped her forehead. ‘Up here, Cal, up here, where there are good memories. And — who knows? — we are flotsam who gravitate towards war zones. We both like trouble, so I guess we will meet more often than you think possible.’

‘I hope you believe me when I say I want that.’

She bent forward and kissed him. ‘Take care, Doc.’