Where the Heart Chooses by Tinnean Read Free Book Online

excuse of
enjoying the London nightlife.”
    “Mmm.” It was as good an excuse as any. I
pointed out my luggage to a skycap, and he stacked them on his
cart.
    “Did you buy out London?” Tony asked
dryly.
    “I’ll have you know that this is only one
trunk more than I left with!”
    “Considering all your other luggage were
suitcases?” He laughed and shook his head. “The car is just over
there.”
    He took my arm, and we walked to his El
Dorado, our conversation remaining desultory while there was a
possibility of being overheard.
    “How are the parents?”
    “Doing well. Looking forward to their
anniversary. They’re expecting us at the house in Chevy Chase.” A
small pied à terre Father kept for those times when he was
working at State. “How was London?”
    “Its usual self, although you’ll be
interested to know that the British Museum has lost its charm.”
    “Ah.” Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing
and turned to the skycap. “This is the car.”
    Once my luggage had been piled into the
trunk and back seat of the Cadillac, he tipped the skycap. The man
looked at the bills in his palm, a broad smile on his dark face,
and he touched his cap and strutted back to the terminal, whistling
what sounded like a Fats Domino song.
    My brother opened the passenger door for me
and waited until I had settled myself on the wine-red leather of
the front seat. I crooked my finger, and he leaned down as if to
assure himself of my comfort.
    “I wasn’t being flippant,” I murmured. “You
do look tired. Are you all right?”
    “Damn Commies. I’ll tell you once we’re on
the road.” He got behind the wheel and lit a cigarette, then
started the car, switched on the running lights, and drove out of
the airport.
    Tony had the radio set for a classical
station, and I closed my eyes and let Borodin’s “String Quartet in
D” wash over me. I knew he would tell me whatever I needed to know
whenever he was ready.
    After a few minutes, he said, “I know you
intended to return to school for your master’s degree. I’m afraid
that will have to be put on hold.”
    “Oh?”
    “You know the Hungarian Revolution
failed.”
    “That’s yesterday’s news, Tony.” The
Revolution had been over for at least three months.
    “Yes, well, there’s been a lot of chatter
between Moscow and the puppet government the Soviets established in
Budapest.”
    I glanced at him sharply. Is that what’s
been keeping you up nights, big brother? Because it was easy to
see that if something was disturbing him, it wasn’t a romantic
liaison gone awry. “I imagine they’re doing this in code?”
    “The NSA is—” His head whipped around to
stare at me as what I said sank in. “Have you heard of the Venona
Project?”
    “Should I have?”
    “No. It’s classified.”
    “Then obviously I haven’t. And please keep
your eyes on the road. I’ve spent the past nine months in England,
which you know, and it feels as if you’re driving on the wrong
side.”
    He laughed, and, as I’d hoped, relaxed, but
not for long.
    “I need as many people as I can find who are
fluent in Russian.”
    “Is that all that difficult?”
    “Two words, little sister—security
clearance.”
    “Ah. I see.”
    “I hope so. Father’s seen to it that you
have that level of clearance, Portia. I need you to join us.”
    “So this is why he wanted me home?”
    “Yes. Do you mind?”
    “You’re joking, aren’t you? Tony, I’m
flattered that you can use my expertise!”
    “No, I mean do you mind that you had to
curtail your visit?”
    “Of course I don’t! This is important!” But
I thought of Folana Fournaise, and the brief time we’d had
together, and I gazed out the window, seeing only my own
reflection.
    * * * *
    The entire family was there to welcome me,
even Jefferson.
    “I thought you were still in England.” I
noticed his gait seemed a bit stiff, and I arched an eyebrow at
him.
    “Father sent for me.” He ignored my raised
eyebrow