The Pale House (18 page)

There was a rising wind behind them. The air felt wet and cold, and still there was a rumor of thunder somewhere over the mountains.
led the way to where the old couple and the boy were lodged, on through the city's aimless shuffle, her arm still in his, but he could see how she walked gathered tight around herself, wrapped around whatever memories his words had stirred, and so he left her to them, matching her step for step until she slowed outside a low building and said, “Here we are,” and they both stopped as they came abreast of the door and saw it broken, folded in around the splintered wreck of its lock.

V
took a step forward, then stopped at Reinhardt's hand on her arm. He drew his pistol and stepped quietly inside. Closed doors stood to either side of a staircase that went straight upstairs. He looked at
, and she motioned up, her eyes very wide and bright. Reinhardt took the stairs carefully. At the top, two more doors opened off a narrow landing, only the one on the left was gone, pale fractures of wood slicing the frame where the hinges had once hung. The door was tilted into the room, cracked and shattered across its middle.

pushed up behind him, her breathing high and short. She peered in, then ducked back out and crossed the landing to knock softly at the door opposite. Reinhardt stepped into the room, his eyes circling around. There was a pair of rolled mattresses in one corner, an old wood-burning stove, and a narrow window with one of the panes stuffed by rags gone stiff and filthy, the frame jammed shut. The stove was stone cold, a small pile of ashes inside it, two plates, two forks, two tin cups, a knife and a warped metal pot atop it. He thumbed through a pile of blankets, finding a suitcase beneath them,
stenciled across it. Crumpled on the floor behind the door was a man's jacket and a tattered woolen cap.

From outside he heard voices,
and someone else, then someone on the stairs, and as he turned to go he saw a smear of blood, low down, by the door. He stepped back onto the landing, seeing
at the bottom talking with a woman dressed all in black. The woman snatched her eyes up at Reinhardt, and she was backing away, a handkerchief clutched around her fist, and
was going after her. Reinhardt stayed where he was, waiting to hear their voices, then came slowly down the stairs.

was standing in the doorway of one of the downstairs apartments, the woman tilted around her door. Her eyes rolled at Reinhardt as he came into view, and it was only
hand on the door that prevented her from closing it. She talked softly to the other woman, calming tones, and the woman straightened a little and came out from behind the door.

“She says they were taken yesterday evening. The UstaÅ¡e came for them.”

Reinhardt looked past
at the woman. “Ask her, please, can she describe them? Can she describe the leader?”

Reinhardt watched the woman as
translated, saw the panic tighten across her features and she was shaking her head, tears welling up in eyes gone huge and dark with fear.

“She can't. She won't,” said
, looking at Reinhardt. Her expression was soft, no recrimination in it, but the point in her voice was clear to him.