Blood Ties Read Free Page B

brother."
    "Wolfgang?" He was puzzled. They had gotten word
that he had died in Moscow. Every generation had its black sheep. There had
been some vague talk of a late marriage.
    "Your father and the Countess..." Garth mumbled.
It was the shorthand of servants who are privy to secrets. That seemed odd,
Albert thought, considering the long estrangement.
    "...with her kid," Garth said, the explanation
now complete. So that was it. Blood again. A von Kassel to be reclaimed. Albert
nodded, turning again to watch Dawn, who had stamped out her cigarette and was
now fussing with her face, looking into her small round compact mirror, always
a sign that they were nearing a destination.
    The Daimler slowed, entering the castle grounds. The air
was clear now, the sky emerald blue without a puff of cloud in sight. Below,
the forest faded into the mist. Here, the castle appeared to be the only
habitation on earth, a self-contained world.
    "They knew what they were doing when they built
this," Albert said. Dawn ignored him, concentrating on fixing her face.
    The Daimler turned into a road surrounded on either side by
a brick wall, then over a wooden bridge which spanned a dry hollow, once a
moat. The bridge led to the castle façade, stretching sheer to fifty feet or
more into which was carved a huge arched entrance leading to a massive
courtyard. The car crunched over a winding gravel road which threaded through a
carefully manicured tree park to what was now the main structure. Above them
loomed the dominant watchtower, and the banner of the Teutonic Order.
    Garth braked the car in the semicircle of the entrance
driveway. Two uniformed servants appeared and began collecting the baggage.
    "Dungeon for two," Dawn said, stepping delicately
onto the driveway, her eyes scanning the sunlit entrance. A rotund man in a
tight morning suit stretched to its fabric's limits came toward him.
    "My good Baron," he called, grasping Albert's
hand, fawning. He bowed, tossed his head and clicked his heels as he pumped
Albert's hand. Smiling, Albert watched Dawn observing this bit of stage
business.
    "And this is Miss Frank," Albert said with an air
of exaggerated imperiousness. "Our manager, Hans Weissen." Again the
bow, the nod, the click of the heels, only this time the lifting of her hand to
his lips, barely touching. The acknowledgment of possession was clear. He had
not told her that the family also owned the castle. She looked up and smiled.
    "So happy. Wonderful," the manager said turning to
Albert. "He looks marvelous." Albert waited for the obligatory
reminiscence. "I have known him since he was so high," Hans said.
There was a whiff of heavy scent emitting from the manager's pink skin. The
face was cherubic, the head bald, with little red-rimmed eyes like a Dutchman
in a Rembrandt painting. After he had illustrated Albert's younger size, the
dimpled hands rubbed themselves together in an attitude of cloying delight.
    They followed him inside. The lobby was ornate, with stone
floors and graceful pillars stretching high into the vaulted ceiling. Suits of
armor were on display, with little legends in German at kneecap level attesting
to their authenticity as those worn by the ancient Knights of the Order. A huge
Teutonic banner hung across the entire length of the lobby.
    "Uncle Albert. Uncle Albert." Squeals echoed and
reverberated in the room as two identical little girls, dressed in the
wedgewood gray uniforms of an English girls' school, round granny glasses
perched on their noses, came running to embrace him. They were chest high,
their legs like sticks in long white stockings. Embracing them identically, he
returned the gesture, kissing them on their foreheads, under their peaked caps.
    "My bookend nieces," he said to Dawn. "Inger
and Ingrid. This is Miss Frank."
    Dawn held out both hands, which seemed the logical mode of
greeting. They grasped her hands lightly and curtsied.
    "I'm the one with the little birthmark here,"
Ingrid said, pointing