‘How do you mean?’
‘You’re your own worst enemy. Damn it, man, nobody but yourself—’
‘Can’t you leave the past alone?’ I shouted at him.
He caught hold of my arm. ‘For God’s sake keep your voice down. Nobody knows I’m here. I came up by the fire-escape.’
‘By the fire-escape?’ I stared at him. ‘What are you doing in Pilsen?’
He didn’t say anything for a moment. He sat there, staring at me and toying with his glass, his eyes searching my face as though looking for something inside me that he wasn’t sure existed. At length he said, ‘You remember Alec Reece?’
I jumped to my feet, knocking over my drink. Reece! Why the hell did he have to talk about Reece? Reece was dead anyway. He’d died trying to escape. So had Shirer. They were both dead. I didn’t want to think about Reece. I’d introduced him to Maxwell — got him the job. He’d been so desperately keen to succeed on that first mission to the partigiani. He was the part of me I wanted to forget — Reece and his sister Alice. Sentences from that last letter of hers ran in a confused jumble through my head. / wanted to be proud of you…. I have forgiven you, but you must see that it is impossible…. I fumbled on the carpet for my glass, picked it up and reached for the bottle. But Maxwell took it from my hand and placed it on the other side of the table. ‘Sit down, Dick,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise—’
‘What didn’t you realise?’ I cut in. ‘Didn’t you know I was engaged to Alice Reece, that she broke it off when she knew? Why do you think I cracked up like that? A man’s mind doesn’t go—’ I stopped then. The room was beginning to spin and I sat down quickly. ‘She thought I killed him,’ I heard myself saying slowly. ‘And the hell of it is, she was right. To all intents and purposes—’
‘Alec Reece is alive,’ he said.
I stared at him. ‘Alive?’