The railway station was mass confusion but everything seemed to be running on time. There were little groups of clergy going into a conference in Vatican City, gatherings of tourists clustering around their mother hens of tour guides and even some groupings of American military types catching the train to visit the popular tourist centers including Venice just a few short hours away.
Olga and I sat in the center of the surging crowds relaxed in the knowledge that our train to Venice on track 8 was not scheduled to depart for another 30 minutes. There was no reason for us to rush to the track since we already had assigned seats in the 2nd class coach.
Olga looked a little nervous to me and I was pretty good at discerning such things when they might impact the success of a mission. I was certain we had not been followed from the base because I was also pretty good at knowing when his back-trail was clean. I had been careful not to leave any indication at the base about the direction we were heading in and certainly I had not mentioned Olga because she was a bit outside the CIA loop that monitored activities in this sector. Still, I would feel a whole lot better after I successfully handed the package over to my employers in Rome.
The announcements were coming fast and furious in a jumble of languages all saying the exact same thing. When I heard the German version that their train was ready to depart, I noticed that Olga started to pick up her gear and looked at me waiting to get the word to move out. It confirmed to me that she also was conversant in German as well as the other languages I already knew about.
We moved to the train with Olga walking a couple of paces in front of me. It was easier to navigate the heavy crowds and didn’t draw attention to the fact that we were together. The 2nd class cabin was almost full but our seats were safe and sound. The conductor placed our notched tickets right on the ridge of the seat so we would not be bothered again about the validity of their travel.
“Harry, have you been to this safe house before?”
I looked at “The Dancer” and told her the truth,
“I am pretty sure I have but I really don’t remember much about it. It was a long time ago when things were a whole lot different and I didn’t have as many enemies.”
“Will I be safe there?”
I had to think about that for a minute because I didn’t want to bullshit the young girl.
“You will be as safe as our security arrangement with the Italians will allow. I don’t think anyone has us on their radar just yet. We do have to get to Rome and make the transfer before next Monday at the latest. Once you are in the hands of my bosses, you will be a lot better off than in transit with me.”
“Harry, if anything should happen to me, will you call my sister in Odessa at this number and tell her I am no more.”
I smiled and nodded my agreement placing the little scrap of paper in my wallet. It was unlikely that it would be necessary because we had gotten this far without any problem. I was far more worried about my supposed friends who might choose this opportunity of my being exposed in the open to put the final nail in my coffin. A real coffin this time and not a bogus one.
We rested without much talk in the quiet solitude of the single row. Most of the rest of the cabin was filled with the sound of American tourists chattering about Rome this or Florence that and what a great shot someone had of the ruins of the Coliseum.
Olga dropped off into a restless sleep and I watched the tilled fields and the vineyards flash by so fast that I was annoyingly unable to make out where one ended and another one began.
An attractive Italian woman in a designer suit sat down across from us. Seeing Olga dozing, she smiled and gave me one of those smiles that manage to tell an observant man that the goodies were available if he has any interest in that sort of thing and is so inclined.
