Note: I have no idea if there was really a British consulate in Zurich in 1914 (there's one there now, if you're wondering), and I fretted over that for a good long while before I realized: they didn't really have giant flying whales back then, either.
So! A consulate. :)
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All of these young lives betrayed.
- from "Children's Crusade" by Sting
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Anna is typing up a copy of the report when the boys arrive.
She's alone in the office of the consulate today; Marie is ill and at home. Anna has had nothing to do this morning beside catch up on her typing, and she's made good progress, but she's more than happy to pause.
One of the boys – young men, really - has red-brown hair, and the other (who's slightly taller) is blond. They're both wearing simple, plain clothes, the sort a farmer might have, and they are not as clean as they might be. These do not look like expatriate Brits. She hopes they aren't locals who are having some sort of trouble with expats; the consul hates those cases.
"Good morning," Anna says in Swiss German, smiling politely. She removes the paper from the typewriter and lays it aside, face down. It's a report from the embassy in Bern, a courtesy communication, informing the consul of what the Swiss military's expedition to the Aletsch Glacier had uncovered (the burnt remains of a British airship and crew, and the retreating backs of the Germans who'd killed them). Nothing too confidential; rumors very close to the truth have been reported in all the newspapers. Still, one should try to be discreet. "May I help you?"
The shorter of the two surprises her by saying, in perfect English, "We need to speak with the consul immediately."
Anna blinks and keeps her smile. "I'm quite sorry," she says, switching to English herself, "but you'll have to make an appointment. The consul is very busy today."
The consul is reading in his office and has no meetings scheduled for the afternoon. The consul will probably go home at midday and then take his wife shopping.
The young men exchange glances. The first one says to Anna, "We'll make an appointment."
"Very good," Anna says. She finds the schedule book and, pen inked and poised over a day two weeks in the future, asks, "Your name, please?"
They exchange another glance. The taller boy says, "Miss Deryn Sharp," and Anna receives another surprise. Suddenly she can see quite clearly that it is indeed a girl standing before her desk, and not a fresh-faced boy.
"Oh, excuse me," Anna says, embarrassed despite herself.
"It's all right," Miss Sharp says. A smirk plays at her mouth. "That's the barking point, isn't it?"
Anna accepts that with a polite nod, although she's not entirely certain what she's just been told.
Anna writes down Miss Sharp and looks expectantly at the young man.
He squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, and says, "Aleksandar Ferdinand von Hohenburg."
"That's His Serene Highness Prince Aleksandar," Miss Sharp says, defiant and proud all at once.
Anna's pen skitters and makes a terribly large blot on the book's page, half obscuring the girl's name. She looks up, too astonished to maintain a professional facade.
"Of Austria," the prince adds, pulling a face at Miss Sharp, who shrugs, unrepentant.
Anna puts the pen down and stands. "Excuse me, please," she says. "I – I'll go see if the consul can spare a moment."
"I'll bet you barking will," Miss Sharp mutters behind her back.
It turns out that the consul is not so busy that he can't interrupt his reading for a possible prince. In fact, he ventures out of his office to greet the prince and Miss Sharp before whisking them in.
Anna is asked to bring tea, which she does. She serves it to the prince and Miss Sharp while they establish their bona fides with the consul, and manages not to scald anyone although her hands are shaking with excitement and nerves. She retreats to the corner and stays there, motionless. Tries not to breathe. Listens avidly to the recounting of their miraculous escape of the Aletsch battlefield, their desperate flight across the Swiss countryside, and their tentative plans for the prince's future.
Then she's asked to draft a telegraph message to the British ambassador in Bern. And then, as the prince, the consul, and Miss Sharp leave for the consul's home, Anna is asked to sit quietly in the front office and resume her duties as though nothing has happened.
But she can't do that. Who could?
Anna stares at the typewriter for a moment, putting her thoughts in order, and then she discards the report she was copying for her handler and starts typing up an account of the prince's arrival.
How unbelievable, that this should happen to her – after so many years of nothing but petty intelligence to pass on to the Germans, bits and pieces so small and oft-repeated as to be useless. Valueless. Now God has delivered to her the missing Austrian prince, the one that's had all of the newspapers in an uproar. The one that's had her handler in an uproar.
She'll ask for double her usual fee – no; more than that. She can ask for the moon, the sun, and all of the stars. The Germans will pay it. For this, they will most certainly pay.
She thinks of the debts she'll be able to settle, the medicines for her mother, the lovely new things she'll be able to buy.
She can hardly wait.
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Ridiculously long author's note about a mistake I made in "introductions":
My tagging Alek with the surname "von Hohenberg" wasn't a mistake. In the book, on page 125 (hardcover; the end of chapter 13, regardless) he's explicitly identified as Prince Aleksandar of Hohenberg. In German, that's "von Hohenberg". Further, Franz Ferdinand's surname was not "Ferdinand". He was Franz Ferdinand Karl Ludwig Joseph of Austria-Este. That, of course, precludes Alek from having the surname "Ferdinand" as well.
Now, I did make a mistake: I failed to include "Ferdinand" in Alek's name. I've fixed that. But I want to be very clear about two things:
1) I did my research! I did hours of it, on just the issue of what Alek's name might be… which, now that I think about it, is kinda obsessive-compulsive and pathetic.
and
2) I still managed to make a huge frickin' mistake. ::headdesk::
A sincere thank you to the reviewer who brought this to my attention. :)
