At that moment, 250 kms to the north, a group of motorbikes, heavily loaded with sleeping bags, tents and bulging panniers, pulled off the motorway and onto the Services slip-road. Riding in a pack they cruised past the few cars in the main car-park coming to a stop outside the central entrance to the shop, cafe and restaurant. They cut their engines and flicked down their side stands.
Elodie shook off her gloves and flexing cold, stiffened fingers, she unstrapped her helmet and unwound the woolen scarf from her chin and neck. Riding a bike at 100 kms per hour in December was tough, especially against the bitter headwind that had sprung up as they’d approached the French border at Strasbourg. The heavy Belstaff trousers she’d bought in Frankfurt were proving indispensable.
It looked like there might be snow ahead, Elodie thought, eyeing the heavy, grey cloud to the south but who knew, maybe that would work to her advantage?
The rest of the gang, chatting and laughing, pleased to be taking a break from the tarmac, made their way in twos and threes into the cafe and Elodie followed.
She looked drained, her face drawn and haggard as she pushed the swing doors open, the welcome rush of warm air enveloping her.
A bearded biker dressed in leather trousers and a greasy denim cut-off turned towards her asking.
‘Du kommst mit essen, ya?’
Elodie smiled,
‘Ya, in zwei minuten, bis glei.’
He gave her a thumbs up, following the rest of the group into the buffet restaurant.
Elodie turned in the opposite direction towards the shop where she’d spotted a rack of newspapers.
Her eyes scanned the headlines for anything relevant, stopping to read an article entitled,
“Burgundy invaded by revelers.”
Beneath it, in smaller print she read,
“The Internet masterminded mystery party locations are still unannounced as thousands of revelers swamp the peaceful Burgundy countryside. Local residents have expressed concern as ...”
Elodie had read enough and flipped the paper back on the rack. She was pleased to see no further mention of the name Paul Sutherland. As far as that was concerned, no news was good news.
There were still so many unknowns in the whole equation that Elodie could only pray that her decision to give him the crystal had been the right one and he would make it to Alesia on time. But the thought that worried her most, though she tried to suppress it from her mind, was, even presuming Paul was there and she could find him and get the crystal, with her body so loaded with toxins, would she be able to create the necessary energy to make the leap?
She knew that the closer she got to Alesia the more essential her vibrational disguise would be.
She shrugged, wise enough to know that doubt and worry would not help her now. She must do what she needed to do.
Elodie made her way into the restaurant and pulling a plastic tray from the rack she ordered a plate of chips and went to sit with her boisterous, traveling companions.
The chips tasted dry and dead, sticking in her throat like sawdust. The quantity of amphetamines she’d taken in the last 24 hours had killed any desire she might have had for food. But still, her body needed energy to function, she thought, forcing her mouth to chew and swallow.
The gang of German bikers had finished eating and after visiting the toilets made their way back out to their waiting bikes.
Elodie leaned forward, speaking to the group in front of her.
‘Einen moment,’ she said, ‘Ich komme glei.’
It was time to set the final phase of her plan into motion.
Turning quickly she went back to the main foyer, past small, circular tables and stools and a line of coffee machines. Spotting a smartly dressed sales rep sipping from his plastic espresso cup, his phone and car keys next to him on the formica table top, Elodie casually approached as if on her way past him to the loos.
When she was two paces away, she bent down, straightening up with a 2 Euro piece held between her finger and thumb.
‘Excusez-moi Monsieur?’ she asked, ‘Ca peut etre le votre?’
The man looked up and then smiled,
‘Ah oui, merci,’ he said, extending his hand to receive it but as Elodie leant forward to give it to him, the sleeve of her donkey jacket caught the rim of his plastic cup, tipping the contents onto his starched, white shirt and creased trousers.
He jumped up from his stool in shock as the liquid spattered over him with a shout of anger and surprise.
‘Putain, merde!’
Elodie moved towards him exclaiming,
‘Oh Monsieur! Je suis vraiment desole,’ and reached forward in an attempt to wipe his shirt with her head scarf, whilst her other hand surreptitiously swept the man’s blackberry across the formica and into her jacket pocket.
The man irritably waved off Elodie’s attempts to help and apologizing profusely she backed off towards the loos, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Crime wasn’t really so difficult at all, she thought. She quickly closed the lock. Considering the opium had made her constipated, she seemed to have spent half the week inside toilet cubicles. Sitting cross-legged on the lid of the toilet, she pulled the shiny blackberry from her pocket and logged onto the internet.
It took her less than three minutes to update all of her web sites;
“The End of Time Festival,”
“The Alysian Crystal Healing ceremony,”
“The Solstice Techinval” and finally “Armageddon rocks.”
She tapped feverishly with her fingertips at the tiny keypad till the site co-ordinates and links to Google maps and facebook were all in place.
It was time to get moving, Elodie knew, aware that the blackberry’s location was even now being traced.
Elodie cautiously opened the toilet door and dropped the phone into the waste bin beneath the hand driers. She hurried outside into the cold wind, where her friends were waiting, cylinders firing, keen to get some more tarmac under their wheels.
The bearded biker parked next to Elodie’s scruffy, black Harley, raising his mobile phone jubilantly in his hand shouted over the racket of his engine,
‘Hey Elodie! Wir hamm’s!’
‘Sehr gut!’ she replied, squeezing her helmet back over her head and fastening her chin strap tight. Information certainly travelled fast, Elodie thought smiling.
As they passed the garage, accelerating hard and banking into the bend of the slip road, Elodie looked back and saw a gendarmerie car speeding towards the restaurant. She smiled to herself again. They might be fast but they weren’t fast enough for her.
Paul: December 20th, late afternoon.
2012 The Secret Teachings of the Next Door Neighbour Page 17
