"Yes, shape first," David said as he turned from the window. "But the first shape is filled with details – inform Evelyn, reply to Hans, asking to meet in an hour and a quarter, an hour and a half, telephone Sonnenhang to inform Bethia I'll be there for dinner and breakfast. To the residence to pack and get the wine from the cellar. Leave a note for Maria."

"I can send the message to Hans and telephone Sonnenhang, David. Leave you to concentrate on the rest."

"I'd appreciate that, Bryce." He pointed out the door. "I'll go tell Evelyn. See you in a few days."

"Godspeed, David."

"Thank you."

A while later, as he drove toward the residence, his mind churned. Need to focus. Slow my thoughts. One step at a time. Cellar first. Select wine. Which vintages? The '93 for sure. What others? Bethia's two. Save the '65 and '70 as bait for a revisit.

The residence door opened shortly after David's knock, and as he entered, he said, "Thank you, Stanley. I must be away quickly. Wine from the cellar, upstairs to pack, then leave."

"I shall get the key, sir."

In the cellar, David opened the four boxes, removed the 1865s and 1870s from the oldest one and replaced them with the 1899s and 1906s. Then he shuffled the 1911s and 1913s, plus a Weißburgunder and a Blauburgunder, into the next box, rearranged the other boxes, and returned them to his private bin, laying the 1908s on top.

Upstairs in the suite, he opened and laid out his suitbag, placed the cases side by side at one end, and packed his changes of clothes and toiletries case in the other. Then, with it closed, folded and buckled, he sat to write a note.

Dearest Maria,
Meeting tomorrow in Metz.
Must rush.
Back soon.
Love you forever.

A while later, while wending his way through early afternoon Bern traffic, he reflected: Too brusque. Too cold. But she understands.

At 13:25, he pulled the Lancia into the courtyard in Bienne, stopped and set the brake. Then inside, he was led along the hall and into the office. "Herr Meier has arrived, sir."

Hans glanced at his watch and smiled. "Precise, as always, David."

"Thank you. What further did Wilhelm write?"

"Two things. He wants to examine samples of ladies' models, and I have a case prepared for you. Also, you will meet aboard his Befehlszug, and he is not certain where it will be."

"Befehlszug?"

"His headquarters train. He asked you to wait in the Kaiserlicher Pavillon." Hans took a folded sheet of paper from the desk drawer and passed it across to David. "All the details are here."

After reading, he looked up and chuckled. "A far finer arrangement than on my last visit. The adjutant must have given details while explaining my delay."

"But you must still be careful, David. Guards and sentries are not drawn from the most intelligent lot, and this makes them unpredictable – and often intransigent in their stupidity."

"True, as I discovered." He folded the paper and tucked it into his breast pocket. "I must be away."

Outside, in the car and heading eastward through Bienne, David glanced at his watch as he waited for a line of wagons to leave the market square. Brugg by 15:40. Schaffhausen before traffic thickens – unless the guards are posted on the bridge again. Even so, ample time before dinner to meet with those returned.

After stopping in Unterhallau to fill the petrol tank, David arrived at Sonnenhang at 18:12, and Bethia turned from the stove as he entered the kitchen. "Early, David. Bryce said you would be here shortly before dinner."

"I didn't pause for tea along the way. Timing is too close with this not to keep some in hand in case of flat tyres, road checks, whatever."

Bethia slid the kettle along to the hot end of the stove. "So, he agreed to meet?"

"Yes, earlier than anticipated. Wednesday afternoon. I need to deliver the ham and sausage tomorrow morning."

She turned and tilted her head. "You've lost me again."

"A ruse for the border guards to explain my crossing. Tell them the van has mechanical problems. I'll have everything else taken through the tunnel. What time is the usual delivery?"

"We always try to get them there before the Metzgeri opens at nine. Recently, with increased Swiss scrutiny, it takes longer to cross."

"Swiss? Not German?"

"They're increasingly concerned about war materials crossing, risking our neutrality."

"Would leaving here at eight thirty work?"

"Yes, that's what we usually do."

"Fine. I'll continue the pattern. Less suspicion."

"You're tense, David. Sit. Have some tea. Tell me about Maria."

He looked toward his suitbag by the door. "I must go up and refresh first. Too many hours of driving. Also, take my bag up – get the wine away from the stove's heat."

Bethia chuckled. "After hours of pounding over rough roads, a bit of heat won't bother it."

A few minutes later, David returned to the kitchen, and as he sat, Bethia asked, "So, Maria?"

"In fine spirits, Tante. She seems past the worst of the initial phase, though a bit tired and increasingly hungry."

Bethia nodded. "As I remember experiencing."

"And as Edith confirmed. I took Saturday off, and we relaxed together. A long walk through the old town mid-morning, and in the evening we attended a performance of The Merry Widow, presented by a touring Austro-Hungarian troupe."

"Oh my! She talked about your visit last month to Maxim's, and I shared with her my enjoyment of a Zürich performance before the war."

David looked up from a sip of tea, "Yes, she told me about that. It was such an amusing evening – beyond the performance. We had a box, and while she focused on watching and listening to the actors singing in German about a French restaurant, I missed some of the choreography, too amused by watching the French, Belgian, German and Austrian attachés and their coteries glare at each other."

Bethia snorted. "You're so like Aaron was, David." She paused and pursed her lips. "A widow, but now with all you've brought into my life, increasingly merry."

David nodded. "My greatest fear is not death, Tante; rather, it is leaving Maria a widow."

"From that, and from your tension, I sense the seriousness of this mission. When will you meet him? Where?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, aboard his train, somewhere near Metz." He blew a loud breath. "I must think of other things. Visit the mess, learn the latest intelligence. Have the men wash the road dirt from the car, making it presentable as a sausage transport in the morning."

As he rose from the table, he said, "The strange beginning of an improbable trip to visit a prince caught between duty, vanity and boredom."