Last Call For Caviar (29 page)

I wanted so much to confide in her. But what could a posse of nuns do against someone like Slava?

“You said there were other visitors looking for me? Besides Bilal?”

“Yes, there’s been someone else. A big man; he looked like a bodybuilder, with massive arms. He frightened me, but then we’ve been hearing disturbing rumors. We’ve had refugees here from the camp in Nice. They talk about children going missing. Orphans kidnapped from the camp. They mention a place called the Farm. Horrible things happen to the children there. He’s been here several times since the summer.”

“What did he look like?” My heart started pounding, and I knew what she was going to say even before she described my visitor.

“He spoke French, but with an accent. His eyes were pale blue. He had tattoos everywhere: on his arms, his neck.”

“Did you notice anything about his teeth?”

“Yes, now that you mention it, his incisors were filed to sharp points. His whole appearance instilled fear. It was very disturbing, talking to him. Father Dominic spoke with him and sent him on his way.” She shivered and crossed herself before continuing. “Father Dominic thinks he could be involved with the kidnappings. Involved in this place called the Farm.”

“Did he ask for me by name? What did Father Dominic tell him?” I was standing now. I knew I had to go. The freak could be lurking anywhere.

“He came here for the first time near the end of August. He said he was looking for a couple of teenagers, a young boy and a girl. He said he was their uncle. Then, at the end, he asked about you. He didn’t know your name. He described you, though—your hair, the color of your eyes. Of course we told him we didn’t know you. That you’d never been here to Laghet. He’s been here two times since. The last time was two weeks ago. And he always asks about you, Maya. This man means you harm.”

I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to subdue the waves of panic. I had to get myself under control and think logically. The disturbing stranger was looking for two teenagers. It wasn’t a stretch to suppose he might have been seeking Luca and Joanna, or some other runaways from the Farm. But he hadn’t seen them in my company. He couldn’t definitively tie me to their escape. At best, it was conjecture on his part. I’d escaped his trap, bested him. His motivation for seeking me was solely revenge.

So much else had happened since our confrontation that I’d succeeded in suppressing the memory. I’d escaped. I didn’t want to constantly relive that harrowing experience and become paralyzed by fear.

Still, prickles of apprehension traced an icy path between my shoulders, knowing he was intent on finding me. He couldn’t associate me with the sanctuary; it’d been a fishing expedition. I prayed that Father Dominic was a convincing liar. My safety depended on it. Hopefully, my trail had gone cold and he wouldn’t come back. I realized with a sinking heart, if I ever crossed paths with the psychopath again—if I wanted to survive—I would need to shoot first and save the questions for later.

“I can’t stay, Sister Marie-Timotee. I’m sorry to ask you or Father Dominic to lie for me, but no one can know I came here today. And thank you for your words of comfort. If only it could be that easy…”

“It is that easy, Maya. You’re welcome here anytime. And don’t worry,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “it’s okay to sometimes lie, especially if you’re protecting someone from harm.”

“I guess this is goodbye…” I shouldered my pack.

“Maya Jade?” Sister Marie-Timotee’s face was wreathed in the most beautiful smile. “Miracles do happen, my child. Angels can appear when you least expect them. Especially in dark moments. They do it all the time.”

I started up the path, Buddy by my side. I thought about Sister Marie-Timotee’s parting words. I saw her gaze before me in my mind’s eye, the twinkle like a sliver of starlight shimmering in the depths of her eyes.

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CHAPTER 33

A
LL
H
ALLOWS
E
VE

Buddy and I left the Astrarama in the early afternoon. I wanted to be settled in before dark. I knew I was taking a foolish risk coming here—to this vantage point overlooking the city of Nice—but I needed to know what was going on.

There was sporadic gunfire by the airport, and long lines of cars jammed the Route de Grenoble, the last desperate evacuees, fleeing before the incoming tide. All was chaos below. Military vehicles streamed past on both sides of the Autoroute. The tanks that had locked down the “quartiers chauds” of L’Ariane and Les Moulins were gone.

Acrid smoke from the guns and the wildfires to the west tasted bitter on the back of my throat and stung my eyes. I could feel the panic and fear spreading across the city in the last dying rays of the day. The insurgents were waiting for the cover of nightfall to make another push.

Tonight was Halloween, and the Pleiades glimmered overhead like fireflies.

The first tongue of fire appeared by the airport about midnight, but as the night wore on, other fires sprang up in different neighborhoods across the city. The flames licked the night sky, and the sound of guns beat out a staccato rhythm like tribal drums. Tracers of rocket fire lit up the sky in a shower of phosphorescent light. The Acropolis was hit by a rocket missile about three o’clock, and exploded in a shower of glass and flame; then, the fronds crowning the palm trees lining the Promenade des Anglais detonated like a string of fire crackers. The first headlights appeared on the Autoroute heading east towards Italy, but as the night wore on, more and more joined them in a headlong rout.

Below, at the foot of Mont Boron and the neighborhoods around the port, the French forces, backlit against the flames, were digging in and setting up their defensive position.

As the hours passed, Nice became a great bonfire burning out of control. I saw figures cavorting like demons amidst the flames. I heard the screams of the dying on the wind. Would the French forces be able to hold until dawn, a couple more days, a week? Nice was falling, and only a tide of blood and death would extinguish these flames.

Buddy and I retreated, the flashlight the only illumination as we moved as swiftly as possible over the trails in the blackness of the waning night. I didn’t pause to watch our back trail. I wanted to put as much distance between us and the carnage I’d witnessed on the streets of Nice before the break of dawn.

Abdul had been right all along—that I didn’t understand the danger I faced by staying behind. No matter how many back-up plans I had, Julian wouldn’t be able to get through this madness. I wouldn’t be able to, alone, survive the savagery I’d seen this very night. Slava’s people were hunting me, not to mention the psychopath with the tattoos and fangs.

The sun was trying to break through the pall of smoke from the fires still burning in Nice as we finally made it back to the Astrarama. I was reeling; my head throbbed from lack of sleep and the horrors I’d seen. I wished I could pull the covers over my head and sleep through this nightmare. But we had run out of time.

I spent the rest of the day going through my supplies. I could only take as much as the Land Rover would hold. Extra gasoline, food and water were a priority; the guns and ammunition, too. I knew it was a risk, but I drove to the training center at dusk and loaded up the last bags of Buddy’s dried food and any medical supplies we might need. I parked the crammed vehicle facing towards the camouflaged screen of brush. I hung the keys on a chain around my neck.

I studied the maps Arnaud had stashed in the glove box, plotting our route. We would head into the Alps. Maybe we’d find an abandoned cabin in the back country to shelter in while I tried to figure out our next move.

By nightfall, I hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours, but the Land Rover was loaded and we were ready to evacuate. I’d done all I could to prepare for our escape. I barred the door to the dome and lay down, fully dressed, on the couch, the Glock and Judge close to hand. Buddy prowled restlessly about the room, his ears alert to every sound. I would wait for Julian as long as I could. Tomorrow would be November first, the day of the dead. Sleep claimed me as soon as I closed my eyes.

.

CHAPTER 34

S
URRENDER
H
ILL

A mosquito buzzed around my face, swooping and darting like a miniature airplane. I swatted it away in annoyance. It came back, the whine increasing in volume. I put a pillow over my head and turned over to go back to sleep. But somehow, the pernicious creature had found its way under the pillow; the whine burrowed into my eardrum.

Only now, the ominous rumble of Buddy’s low growl drowned out the whine of my winged tormentor. I sat up in exasperation and saw Buddy poised at the doors leading to the viewing deck, hackles raised. Something outside spooked him. I slipped on my tennis shoes, stuck the Glock in my belt, eased the safety off the Judge and crossed the room to his side. I stood still, my ear pressed to the door. Everything was silent outside, but Buddy pawed impatiently at the door and barked once.

“Nature calling? Okay, big guy, you can go outside.” I relaxed and ruffled his coat.

I unlocked the door, and he was through in a flash. That’s when it hit me; the guns had fallen silent over Nice. A patch of starlight glimmered through the cloud cover overhead. I watched as the opening widened, exposing a swath of diamonds shimmering against black velvet. The familiar constellations bathed the peak in fairy light. Then, I heard a whine, insistent and growing louder. Befuddled by sleep, I thought for a second that damn mosquito was back.

I saw Buddy silvered by starlight, standing on point by the Land Rover. I was wide awake now, every sense alert as I heard the engine straining as it changed gears on the steep road below. I turned the light switch off inside the door of the dome and grabbed my pack. I crept to the screen of brush and brambles that hid the entrance to the Astrarama. The dim beam of a single headlight cut through the blackness below as it turned onto the Grand Corniche. I watched as the headlight clung to the first curve and accelerated again. The headlight disappeared on the next curve, but I could still hear the powerful engine as the biker rode with the headlight turned off, only the starlight to guide his way.

My heart pounded as I crouched by the camouflaged entrance to the Astrarama. I prayed whoever it was would keep going and not find the turnoff to the rutted track. Only someone who knew where to look would find it at night, in the shadows of the hillside. I glanced behind me, and my heart sank. The dirt and branches I’d used to cover the dome had been washed clean by the rains. The metal dome glowed like a beacon reflecting the starlight.

I heard downshifting on the last curve and the engine cutting off as he coasted onto the track. Long minutes passed before I saw the silhouette of a man in a black helmet and leather, stealing from shadow to shadow as he moved silently down the rutted road, a gleam of metal in his hand.

I felt Buddy tense under my hand; he quivered, and a low rumble started in his chest. I slowly reached in my pack and brought out the powerful flashlight. I checked again that the safety was off on both my guns. He was only thirty meters away now; his visor was up, but his features still hidden under the helmet.

He covered another ten meters. I took one last deep breath to steady myself and hit the switch. The powerful beam of the flashlight caught him in the crosshairs of my ambush, temporarily blinding him, while I put a warning shot in the ground at his feet.

He slowly put his gun on the ground at his feet, then stood, his arms raised overhead in surrender. I saw him fumble at the strap of his helmet, and he took it off. I could see clearly in the torchlight the broad shoulders, the dark hair curling as it brushed the collar of his leather jacket. I saw the flash of white teeth gleaming under the starlight as he gave a rueful smile.

“Don’t shoot! C’est moi… I knew you were angry about the stripper, Cherie,” he paused for a beat, “but Maya Jade, surely you can’t still be that pissed off?”

He was only twenty meters away, but it felt like I was crossing the distance of the whole year that had separated us. Then, I was in his arms. There was a gash on his forehead; his clothes and leather jacket reeked of smoke, besides being bloody and torn. He staggered against me; he could barely stand. Then, his arms tightened around me, holding me close in a fierce embrace.

Just before his lips claimed mine, I whispered, “If you ever go out with a stripper again… next time, I won’t miss.”

It wasn’t a dream this time: I watched his hands undressing me in the candlelight, felt his mouth, the kisses burning along my collarbone and over my breasts. The touch of his finger tips as he teased my body with long, slow caresses. I could smell the smoke in his hair, taste the sweat and blood caked on his shoulder as he eased inside me. Every inch of our flesh fused together, as we moved under the twinkling lights of the dome. The urgency mixed with ecstasy as he brought me to the edge—and over—again and again. I thrilled at the smell and taste of him. The pain and sadness of the past year melting away beneath his touch.

No words needed to be said tonight. No explanations given or plans made for the future. Tomorrow would be soon enough for all that. Tonight, there were only his lips and his arms, the warmth of his body enfolding me as his love flowed into mine. I could see the green fires burning in the depths of his eyes, and I knew that my dreams had been a prophecy.

I woke up in a beam of moonlight falling across the bed. I reached out for him next to me but touched only emptiness. No one was there. Tears welled up in my eyes. No, not another dream; it couldn’t be. Julian had come for me. It was real. It had to be. I couldn’t face the torture of dreams turning to ashes yet again.

Then, I noticed the door to the deck was open; a path of moonlight led outside. Julian sat at the edge of the void, the world spread out before him. His back was to me. Head bowed over his knees, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He made hardly a sound as the memories and pain of all he had seen and experienced these last months poured out of him. I waited by the doorway, leaving him to mourn in private.

Buddy padded across the deck and nudged him with his head. Julian scrubbed his eyes with his hands, wiping away the last trace of his sorrow. He stared out at the horizon, Buddy curled near his side. I went in the kitchen and got two glasses and the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. I handed Julian a glass and sat down between them. My head rested against Julian’s shoulder.

The guns remained silent in the direction of Nice. The war drums no longer sounded, and no explosions ripped open the sky. We sat nursing our whiskeys, arms wrapped around each other, holding tight, waiting in silence for the new day to dawn. I felt Buddy’s warmth on my other side.

We could make our stand here. The Land Rover was loaded, if we decided to strike out and find a new sanctuary in the vastness of the mountains which soared at our backs. I hadn’t abandoned Julian or Buddy, left them behind to face death separately and alone. Whatever would happen, we would face it together, Julian and Buddy by my side. I felt peace descending on me like a benediction.

The world still sang to me, and for the first time in a long while, I heard and understood its song.