"Ah," Smith said, with a smile, "I imagined you had a reason for your questions. Take my advice and write to Mother straight away."
"There's a problem," Matt told him. "I know it sounds silly, but our client might be worried that your mother would go to Prague and dig up the jewelry, when she discovered where it was."
"It's like I told you," Smith said with undue patience. "Mother goes into a trance and remembers nothing."
Matt was thinking furiously about how to phrase the next point. Yes, he knew how to do it. "Our client could still be worried about security. Who else knows about your mother's business? I mean, has she got a neighbor who helps with her correspondence?" He pointed at Smith. "And what about you? I imagine she talks to you about her clients."
Smith drew his breath in slowly and shook his head. "My mother's business is like yours here at Habgood Securities. Client confidentiality is absolute. Mother has never once discussed a client with me or with anyone else, nor would I expect her to."
So that was all right then. Matt looked at the card again. He'd drive round to Mrs. Smith's lunch-time and drop a hand-written letter through the door for her to meditate on . And he'd give his mobile phone number, not the office one.
Chapter Fourteen
YOU'LL NEVER guess who called while you were out," said Matt.
Ken Habgood dropped two rolled-up packages onto the office floor and let out a cry of pain. "I should have got you to carry these up the stairs. Who did you say called?"
"Martin Smith."
Ken looked down at the floor. "I hope he didn't bring his creepy mother. I don't want her in here, poking at these holes. I can't afford more rugs at this price."
"He came to say sorry he gave you a hard time. He's thought it over and it was his fault for being with Shelley Carpenter. He blames her for the affair. It's interesting, because Shelley Carpenter told me he's the one who led her astray."
"Shelley Carpenter's been here too?"
"Not today."
Ken looked relived. "So when did she tell you this? She's a good looking woman. You've not been seeing her on the side, have you? What on earth is Zoé going to say when she finds out?"
"Of course I've not ... " He shook his head in disbelief at his own stupidity. Here he was, trying to keep Blake's assignment a secret, and he might as well be waving flags, just in case Ken hadn't guessed something was going on.
The phone rang at that moment. Ken answered it and passed it over. "It's for you. Sounds like Edward Blake."
Matt had a brief panic, but Ken didn't seem especially interested. "I'll take it in the outer office."
"That's okay, kiddo. I'm not using my desk. I want to see how these new rugs look. You carry on."
There was nothing for it. "Matt Rider here."
"Hello, Mr. Rider. Blake from the Helios Academy," the booming voice announced. "Is it okay if we talk?"
Matt held the receiver tightly to his ear in case the sound leaked out, but Ken seemed more interested in unrolling the new rugs than listening to the conversation. The deep red color blended surprisingly well with the fawn carpet. "Can I ring you back?"
Blake sounded agitated. "I thought I told you to keep this job to yourself."
"You did, and I have." Phoning the office was hardly the way to keep a job like this under wraps. "So why are you ringing me here?"
"I need to know what you're up to. Miss Carpenter called at the Academy this morning to collect her things. I gather you know she's been fired."
"I heard."
"Yes, heard it from her. You don't need to believe everything this American tells you about her violin."
"What violin is that?"
"Don't act all innocent with me," Blake snapped. "Miss Carpenter's violin has no connection with the job you'll be doing for me. That woman knows nothing about the lost music."
"I can't believe that. The violin and music both belonged to Vasek Tesar." He looked across at Ken. His boss was arranging one of the rectangular rugs at a new angle and seemed totally absorbed in getting the correct artistic arrangement. But you never could tell with Ken.
Blake sounded uptight. "Everything was passed down through the family, but the violin was taken to the States in 1942. The music manuscripts definitely stayed in Prague. You saw the evidence on the microfiche. Hana Eisler was the last person who touched those manuscripts."
"You only showed me a couple of pages and I couldn't translate them." Matt wondered whether to tell Blake that Hana was dead and the trail was now cold. "I'm not sure I can help you. Anyway, we haven't agreed how much I'll be paid." He looked across at Ken again. He was now smiling.
"What do you think?" Ken pointed at the floor.
Matt nodded and smiled back. "Good," he said, not really taking it in.
"Are you still there?" Blake asked .
"Carry on," Matt told him.
"Tell me how much you earn in a year with Habgood Securities."
Matt told him, rounding it up a bit to make himself sound better paid then he really was. He didn't want Blake thinking he was dealing with some third-rate PI.
"I'll give you six months' pay if you recover the manuscripts," Blake offered without hesitating. "Plus ten percent of what I get for the manuscripts."
"In a lump sum?"
"Six months pay in cash, just as soon as you bring the manuscripts back to me."
"And the ten percent?" He tried not to sound too eager.
"That will be paid after I've sold the manuscripts. No cash advance, apart from your airfare and hotel expenses in Prague."
"You really think I'll have to go to Prague?"
Ken was definitely paying attention now. He looked up from his handiwork and raised his eyebrows. "Prague?" he mouthed silently.
Matt just shrugged. "I've got one lead to follow up," he told Blake, "and then I'll give you my answer." No way was he going to mention the planned séance.
"You won't get anything out of Miss Carpenter, if that's what you're thinking."
"Actually, I'm hoping to talk to Hana Eisler."
"You've found her?"
"Maybe I know a way to contact her." Matt could see that Ken was getting restless, and definitely inquisitive. "I'll be in touch." He put the phone down. "Sorry about that." He gave Ken an embarrassed smile.
"You're up to no good," said Ken, the rugs obviously forgotten. "Is someone offering you a new job?"
"Sort of," Matt muttered. Ken must have heard money being mentioned.
"I could see it coming." Ken stretched and gripped his back. "I need to sit down. You'd better give me my chair. It's all right, you can sit on my desk. As usual."
Matt did as he was told -- the first time he'd ever been given permission to perch on the polished surface.
"So come on, kiddo. Is it a rival detective agency?"
"I was going to tell you."
"It's the baby, isn't it? As soon as you told me Zoé was pregnant I guessed you'd be moving on for more money. I'd love to keep you here, kiddo, I really would, but I can't afford it."
Matt felt awkward. "It's not what it seems. It's a one-off job. Abroad."
"Prague?"
"I knew you were listening."
"Prague doesn't interest me, kiddo. You know I don't like foreign detective work where I can't understand the language."
"It's not really detective work. More of a treasure hunt." Matt explained briefly about the missing music.
Ken raised his eyebrows. "You mean you could be rich? Don't forget old Ken when you open your Swiss bank account."
"I'm not going to be rich. The most I'm getting is six months' pay, in a lump sum, and ten percent of a possible sale."
Ken shook his head. "You're right," he said. "Six months' pay? You're certainly not going to be rich on that, kiddo. It's Blake, isn't it? No wonder I've been getting every Tom, Dick and Harry calling here in the last couple of days about that photo shoot at the Academy swimming pool. Are they all in on it?"
"I don't know. And it worr
ies me not knowing."
"When did you arrange this job?"
"When I took the film round to Blake. He tempted me with an offer."
"And you fell?"
Matt looked at the wall behind Ken's desk, covered in framed press cuttings and letters of thanks referring to some of their more successful investigations. "I didn't know whether to tell you or not. I'm only going to need a few days, and I could take some holiday. I like working for you, even though I'm always moaning about money."
Ken looked surprisingly pleased. "We work well together as a team. So if I let you find the treasure, it would be like getting a pay rise? You'd have enough extra money to last for two or three years?"
"At least."
Ken nodded. "And you wouldn't need to look for a new job."
He could see what Ken was getting at. He was about to give his blessing. "You're not mad with me?"
"Listen, kiddo, if anything like this happens again you must talk to me. I don't like Blake, but if he wants to throw his money at you, I'll keep my nose out of it."
"You're not such a bad boss after all," Matt said.
Ken walked over to one of the rugs and stood there grinning. "You ought to listen to that wife of yours. Zoé keeps telling you how nice I am."
Chapter Fifteen
1942
Masaryk Railway Station
Prague
Czechoslovakia
HANA LOOKS around quickly to see if there is a friendly face -- someone she can run to for help. She knows she won't see anyone in her family. Not even horrible uncle Otik. Papa doesn't like Uncle Otik, even though they are brothers. Uncle Otik was here in Prague only three days ago. She hated seeing him again. Mama said he had only come to make trouble.
They thought she was asleep, but she heard the three of them arguing. So she crept down the stairs to listen. She remembers the angry voices talking about the violin. Always there are arguments with Uncle Otik about the violin. She wishes the stupid thing had never existed. Uncle Otik says he is taking his family to safety in America, but he needs money to pay the man who will take them through Austria to the coast in Italy. He wants money from Papa, and he wants the violin. They talk loudly for a long time, until Mama comes out of the room and finds her on the stairs.
The next morning Uncle Otik has gone. She knows Papa and Mama are frightened about some of the things Uncle Otik said, but all they tell her is that Uncle Otik has taken the violin with him. He will give it back to Papa as soon as the fighting is over. Hana knows that her mother's jewelry has gone as well, perhaps to Uncle Otik, but Mama didn't say. She is glad her special butterfly brooch is safe in her locker at the Academy. It was a beautiful present from Mama on her seventh birthday.
Why is Uncle Otik always so angry? No one ever tells her why, but she is sure it is because Papa is older than Uncle Otik, and Grandmama gave him the special things of Vasek Tesar. Well, Uncle Otik might have the violin -- until the trouble is over -- but she has the music right here in her brown leather case.
Uncle Otik and his family got away from Prague just in time. Two nights ago the German soldiers took Mama and little Rosa. Papa said they would have taken him as well, if he and Hana had not been out looking for food. Last night she and Papa hid in the attic of the empty house. This morning Papa told her to take the train to Ústí nad Orlicí and find Uncle Libek and Aunty Vetka at Krkavčí farma.
Chapter Sixteen
"LISTEN will you, Zoé. I haven't booked a séance. All I've done is push a letter though Mrs. Smith's door to ask if she's prepared to hold one for us. I don't even know what she charges."
Zoé sounded decidedly pessimistic. "It will be a waste of our money, and maybe you will bring something unpleasant home with you."
Matt laughed. "You mean something scary?"
"Remember what Father Alban said. No, a séance is something I do not like."
"It was your idea in the first place."
"And now I am changing my mind."
He pushed his plate away. "Don't worry, the woman may not even bother to contact me."
"That is good."
"Maybe I should have made the letter more specific, but I didn't want to feed Mrs. Smith any clues about Hana."
"But we will have to tell her. If we go."
If we go? He didn't say anything, but it seemed that Zoé was coming round to the idea after all.
"And another thing," Zoé added. "How will we know what Hana is saying?"
"That's easy. Mrs. Smith speaks Czech, so she'll be able to translate the answers into English. And ... hold on, that's my mobile ringing."
He fetched his cell phone from the hallway and answered it. The woman on the other end said she was Mrs. Smith. Matt put his finger over the mute button for a couple of seconds and told Zoé.
Zoé nodded, somewhat halfheartedly.
"Mrs. Smith, can we make a date?" Matt asked.
The medium said she was free that evening.
"Is it all right if my wife comes as well?" He looked up at Zoé and noticed she was still nodding.
"I do not want to get to bed too late tonight," Zoé whispered.
"I promise." And he meant it. He spoke into the phone again. "What time do you want us to come round?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rider," said Mrs. Smith, "but the first meeting must be at the prospective client's place of residence."
"Don't you run séances in your own home?" Then he realized what the woman must be implying. "I'm sorry, but you're not holding a séance here."
"Mr. Rider, I'm only talking about our initial meeting. Just to check everything out. Please don't misunderstand me, but some people have a negative aura. It's not their fault, of course, but a negative aura can have such an unsettling influence on the guiding spirits in my parlor."
"Hold on a minute." Matt put his finger on the mute button again. "I don't know what to think," he said to Zoé. "Mrs. Smith wants to come here and check us out for negative auras."
"Tell her to mind her own business," Zoé said vehemently.
He removed his finger from the button. "Mrs. Smith? What exactly will you do if you come here?"
"Nothing to be alarmed about, Mr. Rider. All I need is thirty minutes with you and your wife, just to make sure that you're both sympathetic to receiving messages from the spirits."
Matt decided he'd take responsibility for this one. After all, if he and Zoé proved to have negative auras, whatever they were, the job was at an end. He wasn't going to find another Czech medium. "How soon can you be here?"
*
MRS. SMITH turned out to be a smartly dressed woman in a two-piece brown jacket and skirt. Her tightly curled gray hair looked like a wig, and her face was lined with hard work, but she was probably not much over fifty.
"You seem surprised, Mr. Rider." She had a ready smile as Matt opened the door. "Were you expecting someone in a black cloak and a witch's hat?"
Matt felt at ease already. He glanced quickly at Zoé who'd come into the hallway. She looked relieved as well. "I've never done anything like this before," he said as he showed the medium into the living room.
"Don't worry, many of my clients only come as a last resort. After they've had the wonderful experience of talking to their dearly departed, they wonder why they didn't come to me as soon as their loved one passed over. Have you suffered a recent bereavement?"
This wasn't quite the language Matt was hoping for, and he didn't want Zoé put off. "It's not a family member," he said. "I can tell you more, if we decide to go ahead, but you might as well know that the person died more than sixty years ago. In Czechoslovakia."
Mrs. Smith continued to smile. "That's fine. I speak good Czech." She frowned. "How did you know?"
"Someone told us," Matt said, avoiding mentioning her son. Blake wouldn't want Martin Smith muscling in on the money from the manuscripts. "So you don't see a problem?"
"The dead are usually ... I'm calling them the dead so you will understand what I'm talking about. We prefer to call
them the spirits of the departed. Many of them return to visit us from time to time, even though we cannot see them. The dead are usually very willing to tell us about the afterlife, although on rare occasions they draw a veil over themselves. I cannot possibly intrude when that happens."
"To tell you the truth," Matt explained, "we're both a little apprehensive. A séance isn't dangerous is it?"
Mrs. Smith looked taken aback before smiling. "Good gracious no, the spirits are here to help us, not to harm us." She smiled. "I can see by your expressions that you both have doubts."
"I'm open about it," Matt said, repeating the words Ken had used in the office, totally ignoring Father Alban's warning. "Tell me how you'd get in touch with the person I need to talk to."
"We sit around a small table, with our fingers touching. But before we arrange a date to do this, you must tell me as much about the person as you possibly can. I need their name, their age, where they lived, and so on."
Matt shook his head. He'd suspected this was going to happen. "Then we don't have a deal. If I'm going to be convinced I need the information fed to me."
"Mr. Rider," the medium said with a patient smile, "there are millions upon millions of people in the afterlife. How can I possibly tell which one of them you want to talk to?"
"I'll give you a name, but not until the start of the séance."
Mrs. Smith seemed a little miffed. "Do you think I'm going to cheat and find out details in advance?"
Matt looked at Zoé, and she nodded. "It is a possibility," Zoé said bluntly.
He didn't comment. He knew he had to be careful. If he blew it now, then the chances of contacting ... No, it was possible the chances of contacting Hana were zero anyway, if the dead didn't speak, not even to Mrs. Smith.
Mrs. Smith closed her eyes as though in meditation. Suddenly she opened them. "It would help greatly if you had something that belonging to the deceased. An item of clothing, or something personal, such as a pen."
Matt shrugged. He wasn't able to get hold of anything belonging to Hana.
"The butterfly brooch," Zoé said. "Remember how Monsieur -- "
Matt cut her short. "No names," he said quickly. It was a brilliant idea though -- as long as he could persuade Blake to lend him Hana's brooch.
Academy of the Dead Page 10
