Luckily, he travelled light. He had simply looked up the Net, booked a room in a bed & breakfast and, two days later, he had landed in Salzburg with his cameras.
Now, as he stood gazing down at the white, steep cliff, topped with a green and rust turf of shrubs, Re relaxed a bit. He pressed his silver-rimmed spectacles back on the bridge of his nose. His long hair, swept in a ponytail behind his neck, flapped in the wind and he hugged his black leather jacket closer to himself. He knew that he had taken the right decision. Experience was a good teacher after all. His sudden psychic visions always led him to yet another adventure. It was a summons; he recognized it by now. A summons he could not ignore, dare not ignore, like he had done that one fatal time… The memory pricked his conscience like a needle. If only…Re shook his head. Now was not the time to pick at old wounds. Those could wait. Something important was on its way. All he had to do was wait for the signal. It would come, unfailingly.
The mountain paths scrambled in different directions. Tourists with walking sticks strolled down the trail, to enjoy the scenic views from all angles. Were they aware that demons and dwarves and wizards also moved around on the mountain? And somewhere deep inside the mountain, Emperor Karl slept, Re thought suddenly. Surrounded by his trusted knights and governors. But when the ravens stopped flying over the mountain, and the Emperor’s beard had grown three times around a table, the Emperor would rise for the last battle and the world would come to an end. At least that’s what the Legend of the Untersberg Mountain proclaimed. Re’s eyes inadvertently turned towards the skies. A bird flew overhead, screeching shrilly. And much to his surprise settled down on a stone beside him. Jetblack with a yellow beak, the bird cocked his head and his beady eyes stared solemnly at Re. The next instant it flew away.
Re gripped the multi-metal pendant of ‘Om’ that was a permanent fixture round his neck and stared after the Alpine chough, his heart thudding lightly. He experienced the familiar anxiety… It was the same every single time, before it actually happened: the chough had conveyed something and there was no need to spell it out. The time had come…
***
She was so startlingly beautiful—dangerous and beautiful! The thought glided into Stefan’s mind without warning. He caught his breath sharply and wheeled around, his back to her, afraid that she would read his mind. What was he thinking! He had no evidence whatsoever that would go against her, only stark suspicion. Suspicion which might never be backed by sufficient proof. Which meant, quite indisputably, that despite all the clarity of secret knowledge, he would still have to clinically censor out all biased thought against her. But would he be able to? He was caught in a bind. Could he look into those lovely, pensive eyes and not skip a heartbeat? And what about the fact that he knew but had to pretend not to know? Could he?
‘Stefan.’ Her voice was urgent.
He turned around at once, willing himself to look into her blue eyes, clamping a hand over his racing heart. Stefan…she had called him Stefan instead of the cold-edged ‘Officer Weiss’ that she had addressed him as, for the last few days. He knew that she had deliberately avoided calling him by his first name then. He had earlier always loved to hear his name on her lips, as only she could say it. With a slight emphasis on the ‘f’. But that was three long years ago. He had no right to feel this way about her now. Not anymore. She was a married woman, after all. And especially not now.
‘Yes, Isabel.’
‘I came here to the police headquarters, at this hour, only to show you what I found. I believe this would help you find Justin.’
She edged forward a piece of paper but Stefan stared at her, a pained expression on his face. He wanted to believe her so much, believe that she was innocent.
‘Isabel, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. I feel that Justin has taken a break for a few days,’ he replied, with forced cool.
‘Without informing me?’
‘Probably.’
‘A twenty-day break?’ She arched a well-shaped, dark eyebrow.
‘Yes, and he will be back home soon, I hope.’
‘So you aren’t taking his disappearance seriously.’ Her piercing gaze drilled into his soul.
‘We did. We looked for him, we made enquiries in the neighborhood but there’s no trace of him and there’s no reason for us to believe that something could’ve happened to him.’ He knew he was lying. He had every reason to believe that something was drastically wrong, but he didn’t want to raise her suspicions.
‘A man vanishes for twenty days, without a hint of a reason for his absence and you don’t think it’s worth worrying about.’ An incredulous look flashed in her blue-grey eyes.
‘There could be other reasons why he’s gone away,’ Stefan pointed out.
‘You mean, like a failed marriage?’
Her unblinking stare made him a little uncomfortable and he shifted on his feet awkwardly.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘But you implied it,’ she insisted, coolly.
Stefan shrugged.
‘So you’ve decided to sit back and let him…let him…’ she paused as she searched for an appropriate word, ‘let him languish, wherever he is?’
‘Languish is a strong word. Do you have proof that something’s happened to him?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘But I know it. I can feel it. He’s not well. He needs me.’
‘Then why isn’t he returning to you?’
For a moment she appeared flustered, unable to respond. Her head dipped and her face was half hidden in the shadow, against the light of the tubular bulb. She appeared genuinely sad and Stefan gazed at her, torn between the desire to put an arm around her in comfort and at the same time, step back with the secret knowledge of his investigation. He forced himself to look away from the picture of helpless elegance and fiddled with the files on his table. A moment later, she raised her head and slid the paper on the table.
‘At least take a look at this. I was going through his stuff in the house, hoping to find a clue to his whereabouts and this is what I found.’
Stefan glanced at it without much interest. Some words were scribbled hastily on the top of the piece of paper.
5th Heart Veronique AWEF MPCL
‘Where did you find this?’
‘In a novel that he was reading before he…left.’
‘Why do you think this could be important?’ he frowned.
‘Because it doesn’t make sense. It means nothing to me. Why would Justin write these words and letters down and slide the paper inside a novel? Unless it was important?’
‘Hmm…’ Stefan took a minute, studying the scrawled words on the half-torn plain sheet of paper. ‘Leave this with me, will you?’
Isabel nodded. ‘Thank you. I trust that you will do your best to find my husband.’
For a moment their eyes locked. Stefan was the first to look away.
‘Goodbye, Stefan,’ she said and the smallest of smiles touched her lips.
The image of that slight curve of the lips lingered on his mind long after she had left.
***
‘Headquarters, CIA,’ a clipped voice spoke at the other end of the line.
‘I have some bad news,’ he spoke in a low voice.
Standing on the bridge, on which the love-locks in all sizes and colours glinted in the moonlight, he paced up and down, dodging the tourists. The Salzach river shimmered and glided leisurely beneath him. A violinist played the theme of Dr Zhivago but it barely registered in his mind.
‘What is it?’ the tone got crisper.
‘It’s true that one of our operations officers is missing.’
Silence ensued for a long minute.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive identification. Code J20.’
‘Oh, we need to find him. He was one of our best.’
‘I know.’
‘Any idea if he’s alive?’
‘Afraid not, but I am on it. I do have a lead.’
&n
bsp; ‘I know it’s not within your purview. But find him and close the job, will you? And send me a detailed report.’
‘I will do my best.’
‘Goodbye.’
He switched off the phone and stared out at the town spread on the either side of the bridge. There was something peaceful about the twinkling, lazy sprawl of the city. If only he felt as peaceful himself. He sighed, tucked the phone into his pocket and strode in the direction of the Altstadt.
***
Dan shifted uncomfortably in the swivel chair behind his desk, a hand stroking his bearded chin in deep contemplation. A frown creased his forehead, as his other hand twirled a pen restlessly. The standing-lamp in the corner of the room cast a mellow, cosy glow across the office.
Re watched his reaction with narrowed eyes, from behind silver-rimmed spectacles. A guitar played jauntily in his mind—a sound he had always associated with the flamboyant Dan. He was pleased that the guitar still played. It was proof that Dan, good old Dan, had not changed much. At least not for the worse. Re observed him for a few seconds, then finally straightened in his seat.
‘Dan—’ he began, a tinge of exasperation in his voice.
‘Re, you know I am always happy to see you. It’s great to meet after—what—two years? That was a fun time I had in India.’
‘It was. But this is different.’
‘That’s exactly what I am trying to figure out,’ Dan agreed. ‘Let me get this straight. You caught a flight and landed in Salzburg because you had a dream—’
‘A premonition,’ Re cut in.
‘Whatever!’ Dan stilled the pen, glanced at the wall clock and turned his full attention to his friend. Crinkles showed around his light-grey eyes. ‘Re, it’s seven o’clock in the evening. I’m tired. I have an event to supervise in exactly two days. Top heads of at least ten countries are expected to be here by the day after. We shall be receiving executive guests the entire Sunday. We have worked months for this event. It’s one of the most prestigious seminars of the Salzburg Global Seminar and you are telling me that I should call it off? Just because you’ve had this feeling…’
‘A vision,’ Re corrected him again, in a grave tone.
His deep brown-black eyes behind silver-rimmed, slim glasses, appeared strained. A flick of tanned, chocolateshaded hair persisted in bouncing over a forehead above a straight nose as he fiddled restlessly with his long ponytail.
‘Dan, you know that I have a heightened sense of psychic ability. Especially with my senses—it’s unusual—but goes well with my sense of intuition. I also have vibrational connections with places and people sometimes. I think, this time, it was one of those.’
Dan stared across the table and Re returned his gaze unblinkingly. He wasn’t being attentive, Re realized.
‘Listen, Re, you are my friend and the best investigative journalist and filmmaker I know. But I don’t understand a thing about your vibrational connects. All I know is that you’ve got this hunch.’
‘Non, it’s a certainty—’ Re cut in again, with more patience than he felt. ‘Ecoute mon ami, I cabled down from the Untersberg and came straight to meet you. I know that this whole idea may sound frivolous to you, but believe me, it isn’t. I know by experience. I unfailingly see my next case and it always happens in exactly the same predictable manner. And it’s always a city, house, mansion or village that I have visited before. In this case, the Schloss Leopoldskron. It’s not a nice feeling, pas du tout. In fact, it’s positively creepy, but I’ve learnt to live with it.’
‘Have you never been wrong?’
‘Not once.’
‘And likewise, not once has anything untoward happened at the Schloss. Not even a simple theft. There is no crime here. It’s a hotel now, owned by the Salzburg Global Seminar.’
Re maintained a dignified silence. He was dangerously close to losing his composure.
Dan sighed. ‘Okay, tell me, what do you think can happen?’ he conceded.
‘I haven’t the slightest clue!’ Re shrugged. ‘All I know is that I trust my psychic ability and that’s why I am here. To warn and to help.’
A sudden silence ensued between them. A sense of frustration gripped Re. It was always the same. The disbelief, the refusal to take him seriously until it actually happened. So much pain and agony could be prevented if only everyone took his ability seriously. He gave himself a mental shake and leaned forward to grab Dan’s attention.
‘Just think—I cancelled my much-planned trip to India and stoked my Father’s anger once again. Once again I shall miss his grand show! Why would I do it, if I wasn’t convinced of the gravity of my vision? Look, you are the general manager of the Schloss Leopoldskron and I thought you ought to know why I’m here. I am staying at this bed & breakfast, you have my number. I pray that the need doesn’t arise, but in case it does, don’t hesitate to call me.’
He slipped the B&B card forward, but Dan barely glanced at it. Re rose briskly, a little annoyed.
‘Rest assured, nothing’s going to happen, Re. I have an excellent security team led by Stefan, who is a very efficient officer. They will be present at all times beginning from the day after.’ Dan rose too, adjusting his tie.
A knock on the door preceded its opening and a woman in her mid-thirties entered the office.
‘Oh, I’m sorry…you’re busy?’
‘No, come in, Martina. This is Re, my friend and a journalist. And this is Martina, who is a resident artist of the Seminar.’
Re took in her looks swiftly as was his habit. Tall, slim and athletic-looking, with shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair. It was her eyes, which held a permanent smile in their blue depths, that were striking and a little familiar. She was a stunner, he realized. But…Re sniffed the air. Something burning? The whiff of a burning cigarette—or was it wood?—drifted into the room. He threw a quick look around the office. But there was no fireplace. Perhaps something burning out in the palace grounds. Re turned his attention to the artist.
‘Enchanté,’ he shook hands with her and she smiled sweetly.
‘I’ll take your leave, Dan.’ He turned back to his friend.
A moment of silent communication flashed between them, then Re strode out of the Meierhof.
The Meierhof was the older sister of the actual Schloss which stood alongside in the same courtyard, but was demarcated by tall chestnut trees. Both hotels faced the lake, which licked at their shores on three sides. As Re stepped out of the quaint-looking building, it was almost twilight. On an impulse, he strolled to the bench by the lakeside and perched on it. He felt a strange reluctance to quit the Schloss premises just yet.
The lake gleamed in the fading evening light. The opposite bank was bordered with trees and the Untersberg rose gracefully above it. In the distance, the white eroded cliffs of the mountain merged with the green foliage to form a contrast of green, yellow and white. The setting sun seemed to set fire to the mountain from the inside because it seemed to glow incandescently.
For some minutes, Re stared at the changing reflections of the Untersberg on the water, then turned his attention to the white mansion behind him. The wide-spread leaves of the chestnut trees formed a loose, kaleidoscopic pattern on the backdrop of the white, aging walls of the Schloss. The square, white-grilled windows, the grand four arches of the Marble Hall terrace covered in thick ivy, the green already burnished with a coat of auburn—it was a grand meeting of colour, nature and structure. Strategically placed magenta lights illuminated the palace from all sides, according that touch of fairytale magnetism. Simple and elegant. So calm and serene. Unsuspecting…and no smell of burnt wood at all.
He had tried to explain to Dan and not surprisingly, he had failed to convince. Not that Re had expected immediate acceptance from his friend. Yet some kind of openness of mind would’ve been welcome, he thought. It did not make an iota of difference to his resolve, of course. He had no intention of letting the Schloss down.
A lady with short blonde hair, in white trou
sers and a white jacket, brought out lanterns and lit them, placing them at even distances from the lake to the Meierhof, illuminating a path. She nodded at Re with a smile, and went about her work noiselessly, unhurriedly and efficiently. Something about the way she moved and worked, was soothing and relaxing.
‘Good evening, Christine!’ a man called out. ‘It’s getting colder by the day.’
Christine raised a hand in acknowledgment. ‘Guten Abend Herr Hollander, Frau Hollander ! Ja, so ist es.’
Mr Hollander’s thick white beard and white unruly hair made him stand out in the twilight. Mrs Hollander, an attractive lady, accompanied him as they pushed open the heavy door of the Meierhof. They stamped their feet on the matted area at the entrance and Re caught a snatch of fluent French as they passed into the warmth of the hotel lobby.
Hotel guests, Re realized.
A slim young man followed them hastily. He wore a darkish beard and a low cap, which concealed his eyes. He appeared to be in such a hurry that he almost banged into Martina who happened to open the door that very moment. The file she was carrying flew to the ground and the papers scattered in all directions. The man quickly dipped to pick them up.
‘Oh, entschuldigen sie bitte!’ he mumbled, his tone apologetic.
‘Kein problem, Richard!’ Martina brushed away the apology, accepted the file, hugged her jacket and headed towards the Schloss as Richard disappeared into the hotel.
Re sat on the bench, sensing and observing. The evening had suddenly gone cool and silent, punctuated by the occasional quacking of the ducks. Voices drifted towards him and for a moment he thought it was someone talking by the windows on the first floor of the Meierhof. But gradually, he saw a couple emerging from the shadows, from the side of the hotel, lost in deep conversation.
The Trail of Four Page 2
