T
he house seemed strangely quiet after they had gone. Ilsa moved restlessly around the big living room. Finally settling at the piano, she picked out the same tune over and over with two fingers. She was still smarting from Fenimore's look of disgust when she had smiled at him.
Redik went to the closet and took out his favorite marionetteâCharles IVâa shabbier version than the one he used at the theater. Also, an older version. It had been his puppet as a child, and his father's and grandfather's before him. In fact, it had been created by his great-grandfather, who had been a stonemason.
He manipulated the strings deftly, making the emperor perform a little two-step on top of the piano.
Without looking up, Ilsa said quietly, “Who is Tomas Tuk?”
As if deaf, Redik continued to play with his puppet.
Ilsa pressed her palm down sharply on the lower keys. The heavy, discordant notes vibrated through the house.
When the sound petered out, Redik laid the puppet gently on the piano and took a seat beside Ilsa. He began to play a Mozart concerto. He played very well. When he finished, Ilsa laid a hand over his.
He turned toward her. “Tomas Tuk is nothing to you.” He reached up and twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. “And Fenimore and his
Mädchen
will never leave Prague.”
Ilsa's eyebrows rose.
“You need not be involved.” He let her hair uncurl and drew his finger down her cheek. “I know your sensibilities are too delicate ⦠.”
She pushed his hand away, and looked at himâas if for the first time.
“Just leave it to me,” he said. “Prague
will
be ours!” He turned back to the keyboard. This time he played a vigorous German march.
H
oratio, Marie, and Mr. Nicholson were watching cartoons on the bookseller's television set in his apartment over the store. Such colorful images had never graced his screen before. Black-and-white Hitchcock films and the lovely faces of Grace Kelly and Ingrid Bergman were what usually flickered there.
As he watched, Mr. Nicholson couldn't prevent an occasional ejaculation, such as, “Goodness!” “Mercy” or “My word!” But his companions seemed unmovedâor mesmerized.
During a commercial break, Horatio said, “I wonder what they're up to now.” He didn't have to explain to whom he was referring. The Doctor, Jennifer, and Mrs. Doyle were foremost in all their minds.
Mr. Nicholson glanced at his watch and did a swift calculation. “It's seven P.M. here, so it must be one A.M. there. I imagine they're sleeping peacefully.”
“Mama and Papa, too?” asked Marie, out of the blue. She hadn't mentioned her parents since she had arrived.
Mr. Nicholson nodded gravely. “Mama and Papa, too.”
Horatio cast him a quick glance. But the commercial break was over and the bookseller's gaze was back on the screen.
In a few hours they, too, would be sleeping peacefully. Mr. Nicholson in his own bed; Marie in Jennifer's bed; and Horatio on the couch. His mother had given the boy permission to stay over, so he could baby-sit with Marie the next day while Mr. Nicholson ran the store. Mrs. Lopez knew her son would never get up early enough to be at the store when it opened.
T
he hotel that the cab driver had picked out for Mrs. Doyle was modest, but neat and clean. The building had once been a convent, the brochure claimed. Here and there, reminders of its past peeked through the modern veneer. A marble statue, a wrought-iron railing, a Gothic window.
After she had settled inâwashed up, and put her few things awayâshe decided to call some of the other hotels and see if Jennifer was registered. Not for the first time, she wished Jennifer had left her address with someone at home. If not with Mrs. Doyle, at least with her father. Then again, she was probably in such a hurry, she forgot. But when Mrs. Doyle opened the phone book to “Hotels” she was daunted. There were so many, it would take her days to cover them all. And it would be just her luck to have Jennifer staying in one that began with
Y
or
Z
. She decided to start with the hospitals. There were only three of them. Maybe the doctor or Jennifer had met with an accidentâGod forbid. A good Catholic, she crossed herself.
As she dialed, it occurred to her for the first time that language might be a problem. But it wasn't. After she introduced herself,
everyone seemed more than happy to speak English. For small blessings she was truly thankful.
None of the three hospitals had a patient listed under the names of Nicholson or Fenimore. Doyle was torn between relief and disappointment. She had another idea. What was the doctor's cousins' name? She had heard it often enough. She racked her brain. It was like a sieve lately. She wished she had Horatio's memory.
She went to the window and looked down. People were strolling by with coats open and heads bare. The day must have grown balmy. What was the doctor's cousin's maiden name? She used it professionally. Mrs. Doyle had heard it often enough. She turned back to the room.
B
⦠She was sure it began with a
B
. She sat on the edge of the bed and leafed through the
B
's in the phone book. Balik, Bosnik, Borovy â¦
That's it! And she knew his cousin's first name was Anna
. Mrs. Doyle began calling the hospitals once more.
F
or the next twenty-four hours, Fenimore kept a close eye on Vlasta. He suffered severe chest pain after the slightest exertion, such as washing his face or brushing his teeth; it was only a small step from such symptoms to a major heart attack. Put very simply, Vlasta's heart was not receiving enough blood. At least one of his arteries was blocked. Fenimore could not make a more specific diagnosis until he had an evaluation. This was what he had been arranging for Vlasta to have done in the States, before he and Anna had disappeared. At that time, Vlasta still had been able to go up a flight of stairs without discomfort. But his condition had worsened during the past few weeks. Thanks to Redik and Ilsa.
The hospital reminded Fenimore of one in which he had interned in the 1970s. Their cardiology was of about the same vintage. He had to tell the doctors, the nurses, even the technicians what to do. Diplomatically, of course. It was a full-time job, with no time off for eating or sleeping.
Jennifer hung around the hospital, supplying Fenimore with coffee and snacks from the cafeteria, and visiting with Anna when she was awake. Unlike her husband, Anna was not desperately ill. Suffering only from exhaustion and mental stress, she would probably
be ready to leave the hospital after a few days' rest. As soon as they were settled in the ambulance, Anna demanded to hear about Marie. Fenimore told her she was safe in America.
“America?” She was flabbergasted. She had been told Marie was kidnappedânothing more. Of course, as soon as they had thought Marie's life was in danger, Anna and Vlasta had revealed their discovery of the hidden staircase and the secret door to the crown jewels. Soon afterwards, Ilsa learned that the crown jewels would be on display at the Coronation Ceremony, making them easily accessible. There was no longer any need for the manuscript that Ilsa had stolen.
Fenimore explained to Anna the necessity of sending Marie out of the country and assured her that she was in good hands. He didn't mention that he had been calling Mrs. Doyle in the States periodically to confirm this, but so far he had been unable to reach her. Shortly afterwards, Anna slipped into a deep sleep, the sleep of utter exhaustion. She slept for twelve hours. By the time she woke, Fenimore was able to give her more positive news about her husband. The medicines were working and he was resting comfortably. There was a possibility that he could fly to the States in a week or two. But Fenimore was still uneasy about Marie. And where could Doyle be?
Once, while paying for coffee in the hospital cafeteria, Jennifer found in the bottom of her purse the sheet of paper that she had confiscated from Redik's basement.
Sharing a rare coffee break with Fenimore, she spread the sheet out on the table and translated, in halting German:
Manifesto
I, Jan Redik,
do swear to rule the Czech Republic and Prague
âthe Jewel in her Crownâ
with the same Wise and Beneficent hand as our Great and Good Ruler
Emperor, Charles IV.
Following in his footsteps, I will see that my people never want for
Culture and Education
or
Shoes and Bread.
Â
Jan Redik
When she finished, Fenimore made no comment. Either he was too exhausted to comprehend, or he thought it wasn't worthy of his notice.
Jennifer decided it was time to try out her conspiracy theory on him, complete with cell groups and subliminal puppet shows.
“Hmm,” Fenimore mused. “Redik might be just crazy enough ⦔ And that would explain why there was no reference to freedom or independence in that puppet show.
“Don't you see,” Jennifer pointed at the manifesto, “this proves Redik had a plan to take over the Czech Republic. He wanted to turn it into a benevolent dictatorship with himself at the helm, a modern-day Emperor Charles IV!”
“And Ilsa?”
“The
Empress
! Remember, I read you about Charles IV's wife, who could bend a sword with her bare hands? With a little fitness instruction, Ilsa could probably fill that niche very nicely.”
Jennifer thought Fenimore was warming to the idea, but his eyelids were drooping. She doubted if he could stay awake much longer.
Taking matters into her own hands, she insisted that he go to her hotel room, which was nearby, and get some sleep. “You can be back in the hospital at a moment's notice,” she told him. He finally agreed. Once in her room, he fell onto the bed and slept the sleep of the dead. A few hours later, Jennifer arrived and fell beside him.
Â
They woke in the early evening and felt refreshed. Fenimore called the hospital. His cousins were doing well. Vlasta was resting comfortably and Anna was scheduled for release the next morning. But Ilsa's comment about Marie and the zoo still nagged at him. He shared his concern with Jennifer.
“Why don't you call Dad?” she said. “Maybe he knows something.”
He called.
“Nicholson's Bookstore!” a childish voice with a faintly foreign accent sang out.
“Marie?”
“
Ano.
I mean, âYes'?”
“Are you okay?”
“Sure.”
Fenimore's laugh bordered on the hysterical.
“You want to buy a book, Uncle Andrew?” Marie chirped.
“Noâno, thanks.” Choking back his laughter, he told Marie that her parents were okay, too, and she would see them soon. When he hung up, Jennifer looked bewildered.
“Everything's okay,” he said, although he still had not located his elusive nurse, cum baby-sitter. But she was probably doing errands while Marie was at the bookstore, he decided. “What now?” He searched Jennifer's face.
“Let's go out on the town,” she suggested.
“You mean it?”
“Sure. We'll get you that wonderful Czech dinner you've been longing for.”
His eyes lit up. “Honest?”
“Absolutely. But first let's take a walk along the river, stop at a wine bar ⦠. I love the city at twilight.”
Fenimore stared at her.
“What's wrong?”
“You've forgiven me?”
“For what?”
“Ilsa.”
“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “You were seduced. It happens.”
“Was not.”
“Was.”
“Not.”
“Was.”
He came over to the bed and put his arms around her. “Wasn't,” he murmured in her ear.
She drew back. “Do you prefer big women?”
Fenimore scratched his head. “Well, I've always wondered ⦠.”
Jennifer began beating his chest with her fists.
Grabbing her hands, he silenced her.
O
n her second call, Mrs. Doyle hit pay dirt. The hospital where Fenimore's cousins were registered as patients was just a tram-ride away from her hotel. She hopped on a tram and for the first time relaxed and looked at the old city. “Old” was the feeling that pervaded her. Everywhere she looked were buildings, pitted and tarnished with ageâlike old silver. And, like old silver, they glowed with the luster, warmth, and dignity acquired by age. They absorbed their modern additions, such as a neon sign here or a bright awning there, with the ease of an old dowager donning a new hat or carrying a new purse. Even the occasional graffiti failed to disfigure them, blending with their ancient scars and stains. They had withstood the test of time. Next to them, Independence Hall, with its red bricks and white trim, seemed like a young upstart.
In the hospital lobby, Mrs. Doyle stopped at the front desk for a visitor's card and took the elevator to Anna's room, on the third floor. They would not let her see Vlasta who was in the ICU, because she wasn't a relative. (Some things are the same the world over.)
Anna's door was ajar. She tapped lightly and went in. The woman was dozing, but opened her eyes when Mrs. Doyle spoke. “Forgive me, I'm looking for Dr. Fenimore,” she said. “He's a friend of mine.”
She didn't want to upset the woman with too many lengthy explanations.
“I'm sorry. He left about ⦔ She frowned. “You lose track of time in here ⦠. About two hours ago. Poor man. He was exhausted from looking after my husband and me.”
“Was there a woman with him?”
“Oh, yes. A lovely young woman. Jennifer.”
Mrs. Doyle's legs felt wobbly. She sat down on the nearest chair. She hadn't realized how great her fears had been until they were eliminated.
“Yes,” Anna said, “please sit down. You look worn-out.”
With her practiced nurse's eye, Mrs. Doyle recognized that Anna was not seriously ill. Mrs. Doyle revealed her identity, and told Anna that she had been with her daughter just hours ago.
Anna's eyes filled with tears as Mrs. Doyle recounted some of Marie's recent antics in Philadelphia. But when she described Marie taking her teddy bear to the zoo, her mother laughed out loud. “That bear!” she said. “She takes him everywhere.”
“She must inherit that from the doctor. He still keeps his bear on the end of his bed.”
“No!”
Seeing that Anna was relaxed, Mrs. Doyle ventured to ask about her recent experience.
Slowly, Anna recounted the story of their kidnapping, imprisonment, and rescue.
“Mercy!” The word was inadequate to sum up Mrs. Doyle's feelings. After a moment, she asked where the doctor and Jennifer were now.
Anna gave her the name and address of Jennifer's hotel.
The danger past, Mrs. Doyle felt no urgency to rush there. She lingered to tell Anna more about her child, a subject a mother never grows tired of.
When she finally left the hospital, Mrs. Doyle was surprised to find it had grown dark. Unfamiliar with the crime-rate in Prague, she decided to splurge and take a cab to Jennifer's hotel. As the cab
drew up to the hotel entrance, she spied the doctor and Jennifer coming out. Walking hand in hand they looked so happy, she couldn't bear to disturb them. Incurable romantic that she was, she decided to return to her own hotel and wait until morning to make her presence known. She was about to give the driver her address, when she noticed two figures step from the shadows of a doorway and follow her friends. She quickly paid the driver and got out of the cab.