They folded in with workers speaking Catalan and carrying spades and baskets, headed uphill to the vineyards. Hans said a few words to two of the workers, who handed over their baskets, one to Hans and one to Edouard.
Hans gave the men several cigarettes, which they tucked into shirt pockets as they carried on, walking basketless now on the outer edge of the vineyard workers.
They were walking along a low, overgrown stone wall when Hans nudged Edouard deeper into the trail of workers.
“On the left,” Hans said. “Don’t turn your heads.”
Two caped shadows stood in the gap between trees and bushes. Not, Edouard didn’t think, the Gestapo from last night. French border guards. They were danger enough. He kept Luki close at his side so his own body and the other workers might block her from view.
The workers who’d given Hans their baskets stepped up to the shadows. A match flared. One cigarette glowed red, then a second and a third before the match was extinguished. A distraction, Edouard saw. Yes, a cigarette. A polite request for a light.
The day, when it dawned, was beautifully clear, thanks to the wind still howling this morning, which Hans said was more of a blessing than it seemed. It wasn’t as cold as a tramontane often was, and as long as it blew, they wouldn’t have to worry about finding the path in the fog.
“This is the third day of the winds,” Hans said. “According to the ancients, if the tramontane blows after three days, it will blow for another three, and so on up to twelve days.” Even the howling could be a blessing if one could stand it, Hans said, as it would hide any noise they made.
The path turned left. Here was the boulder Hans had described as he drew the map. So far, Luki hadn’t slowed them much, leaning into the wind in her little espadrilles, asking Edouard at the boulder if they could stop for a rest.
“If Pemmy and Joey had ropey shoes, they could walk,” she said.
Hans subtly shook his head.
Edouard said to Luki, “We’ll stop to rest, but not yet.”
They reached the first clearing in about two hours. It was a third of the way—but the easiest third, Edouard concluded as he looked behind them, the land sloping gently down to the rooftops and the shore and the sea. Ahead were mountain peaks.
They’d left the workers behind now.
“Pemmy is tired of walking,” Luki said. “And she’s very tired of the wind noise.”
Edouard lifted her onto his shoulders.
“This will draw attention,” Hans Fittko said.
Edouard looked down to the town below them. Crawling slowly along the waterfront, like an all-seeing Surrealist beetle searching for prey, was one of the Gestapo’s dark limousines. The distance that had taken them hours on foot could be traveled in minutes on the road by those who could afford the attention an automobile brought. He swung Luki down.
Hans, reaching to help her, caught his foot on a tree root and went sprawling, holding tightly to Luki and rolling to the side to protect her from the fall. Edouard, trying to catch them both, fell with them. Luki was so surprised she didn’t even cry.
Edouard hurried to scoop her up, saying, “You’re fine, you’re fine.”
He looked around, hoping the ruckus hadn’t drawn any attention.
There was a thin line of red on Hans’s forehead.
Edouard set Luki on her feet, then turned back to Hans. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Let me give you a hand up.”
He brushed the gravel from the palms of his gloves.
Hans took a small first-aid kit from his musette bag. He cut off a length of bandage and wrapped his own already-swelling ankle, then returned the remaining bandage to the kit.
“When you get to the plateau,” he said, “you will see the seven pine trees.”
“We can’t leave you alone,” Edouard protested. “You’ll need help getting down the hill.”
“Keep those pines always on your right,” Hans insisted, handing him the medical kit, “so you won’t go too far north and lose the path.”
Nanée gathered Pemmy from several feet ahead, still with Joey sturdily pinned to her, the musical baby kangaroo sounding a single note when she picked them up.
Edouard met her gaze, knowing what she was going to say before she said it and wanting to stop her, as unforgivably selfish as that was.
“I could take Hans down,” she said. “I have an American passport. I can leave anytime.” She handed the kangaroos to Luki.
“You need to bring up the rear until you reach the border,” Hans said. “If anyone follows, you can delay them. As you say, you have an American passport.”