One must always be prepared.
To that end, I had secured the blade in my boot, and the revolver into the deep pocket I had the dressmaker include when she made the skirt, in the style of one my friend Templeton had given me after the return from her American tour.
Most handy, as she described the style, which had become quite popular the past few years across London for women who participated in lawn sports, tennis, equestrian events, and shooting sports.
There was still a long way to go before they would be allowed to compete in official competitions, of course. I suspected personally that it had more to do with men being concerned over those sports with a mallet, or the shooting sports.
We boarded our train without incident, both of us watchful for any sign of that little man. However, there was none. It was possible that he had already left Brussels to join Angeline Cotillard?
We settled back in our compartment for the five-hour trip that would take us to Frankfurt and our search for those stolen secret documents.
Sixteen
FRANKFURT, GERMANY
We arrivedin Frankfurt on schedule. The main rail station was a sprawling behemoth under curved roofs with panels of glass that provided light and arched over the main building. It covered a dozen tracks with trains that arrived from and departed to various cities across Europe and beyond.
Brodie kept a firm hand on my arm as we left our compartment and navigated our way to the carriage station according to overhead signage.
We had discovered on the trip from Brussels that, while the most common language in Frankfurt was German, most merchants, tradesmen, and professional persons in banking and other enterprises also spoke English.
Quite well, an attendant from Frankfurt assured a fellow passenger. We had navigated Brussels efficiently with my background in French lessons from when my sister and I attended private school in Paris.
Along the way in my various travels, I had made it a habit of learning the basics for whichever country I visited.
I had a passable knowledge of Italian along with Portuguese when visiting Lisbon.
However, I had never managed Greek. It had not seemed necessary at the time. There were other ways to communicate. And then there was Gaelic, which I was still learning, word by individual word. But again, there were some things that needed no words.
At the carriage station, we discovered what they called a hansom carriage, very similar to hansom cabs in London. Brodie hired the driver and gave him the address of Herr Wagner’s office on Kaiserstrasse in the main part of the city.
As I had also learned on my travels, having the appropriate currency could be an issue. However, our driver had no problem taking our French currency.
In heavily accented English he explained that he accepted most primary currencies in addition to German. That included French and English. It was the nature of the business at the rail stations. Even in the city proper, he assured us. Still, there were banks in the business district that could provide us with German marks.
The ride from the rail station to the main business district took very near an hour in midday traffic, much like London.
It was very near three o’clock in the afternoon when he finally navigated traffic-filled streets and we arrived at the address for Herr Wagner, his name displayed on a plaque along with the names of several others at the front of the building.
The city was a mixture of newer four-story concrete brick buildings in the classical style with an occasional ornamental domed cupola at the top floor for decoration. Remnants of older medieval-style buildings stood here and there, having survived the city’s expansion, so far.
That ‘modernization,’ as our driver lamented, included a horse-drawn trolley system on tracks, rumored soon to be replaced with electric trolleys.
“Progress,” Brodie drily commented as I stepped down from the hansom cab.
While I was in favor of progress that included water and sewage systems, and electric in London that had much improved the city by eliminating a good many of what were referred to as ‘slum’ areas, I did see his point.
“You are old-fashioned,” I commented as we climbed the steps into the foyer of the building. “I would never have guessed.”
There was no reply as we approached a wood-enclosed desk and platform that looked very much like a pulpit. A woman in a stark black gown with white collar and cuffs at the wrists greeted us. Brodie gave Herr Wagner’s name.
There was no response as she stared at us. I sensed Brodie rapidly losing patience. It might have been the way his mouth thinned as he addressed her next.
“If you please, madame. He is expecting us. Or, shall I start with the first-floor offices?”
“Of course,” she snapped.
It seemed that she both understood and spoke English quite well.
