The Trail of Four

by Manjiri Prabhu

  On the path of the pilgrim.

  Waits the old bin.

  Where flour, bread and wine seat,

  And the personal and religious meet,

  And in memory of the war brethren

  Peace and solace strengthen.’

  Re stared at the clue, willing it to reappear in a different light and show up any misinterpretation they had made earlier. If only the right words would emerge like invisible ink that darkens after treatment.

  ‘I don’t see what we could’ve done wrong. It’s got to be this chapel. The old bin, the photographed memory of the soldiers—those two clues are definitely specific to the Maria Luggau Chapel,’ Isabel insisted, with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

  ‘But this isn’t St Catherine’s Chapel. It is the Virgin Mary’s,’ Re pointed out.

  ‘But all mills have St Catherine as their patroness. Why do you keep insisting that this isn’t the place?’ Isabel asked, annoyed.

  ‘Because the clue is not in the bin. Where it is supposed to be!’ Re exclaimed. He stood with his back to the altar. ‘We have to consider other options. It’s already almost 8. We seem to be stuck here, with no leads in hand, time running short and imminent danger to the next Pillar. God alone knows who or what will be aimed at now, so many people already injured, perhaps some more to be lost altogether soon. We have to find this, Isabel. Rack your brains, there’s something we are missing. Something vital.’

  ‘You are the one with visions! I am a historian,’ Isabel snapped back.

  Re stared at her, fixing his spectacles back on his nose with an impatient swipe of his hand.

  ‘Yes, I have visions. But I am not a magician to concoct something out of nothing.’

  They looked at each other exasperatedly. Isabel’s expression projected anger, which Re knew was more an expression of her inability to find answers than a personal response to his statement. Instantly, his own temper cooled.

  ‘Bon, you know what, let’s go eat something. J’ai faim—I am famished. We haven’t eaten a morsel all day, have narrowly escaped death. Just, let’s go!’

  ‘You’re right. I am famished too.’ She sounded apologetic. ‘But before we leave, can I quickly pray? Could you please open the door to the altar?’

  She nodded and unlocked the grille door which separated the altar from the body of the chapel. Re stepped into the sacred area, taking in the religious décor. A statue of Jesus on a metal crucifix, on an ornate stand, occupied the central position on the marbletop. In the background were other smaller statues, old chalices and angels holding candles. He could smell the scent of the candles and feel the aura of worship in the atmosphere.

  Re dipped his head in reverence, closed his eyes and whispered a prayer. He was troubled and his head was beginning to throb. A familiar throb which heralded his visions. A feeling of deep frustration pervaded his body. If only he could help stop this lunacy of cruel and destructive acts. This senseless carnage of beauty, history, religion and of course innocence…They were so close to solving the trail and yet still so far…

  Slowly he raised his head and inhaled deeply. His body tingled and he sensed vibrations in the air. He turned to face Isabel, wondering idly if she sensed them too. She was standing right behind him and staring hard at the statue of Jesus. A queer glint shown in her blue eyes and she looked like she was in a trance, and holding her own private conversation with the Lord.

  ‘Re, I think I know where we went wrong.’ She spoke slowly but conveyed a new kind of urgency.

  The tingling in his body increased and he felt the buzzing on his fingertips.

  ‘“The blessings of Catherine, dissolve all sin”…we were indeed searching in the wrong place.’

  ‘You mean, this isn’t the chapel we are supposed to be in? There’s another St Catherine’s church?’

  ‘No, this is the right chapel.’

  ‘But I thought you said that this is the Virgin Mary’s chapel.’

  ‘It is. It’s the bin that was wrong.’

  ‘You mean there’s another bin?’

  ‘The clue isn’t in the bin, Re. The clue is in the blessings of St Catherine.’

  ‘Wait, now you are confusing me!’

  Isabel moved past Re and approached the marbletop, staring at the statue of Jesus, wonder in her face. ‘Look at the cross!’ she commanded.

  Re obeyed, racking his brains for anything he may have missed earlier on.

  Isabel moved forward and lifted the stand.

  ‘It’s heavy!’ She smiled, as if to herself. ‘The blessing of St Catherine is on the other side of the cross!’

  She turned the crucifix around and revealed a lovely pink and blue statue with a child on the exact opposite side of Jesus’s statue.

  ‘Mon Dieu!’ Re breathed. ‘Why didn’t you ever think of this before? Never mind. The clue has got to be inside the frame.’

  Isabel began unscrewing the cross from the stand, placing it aside, her manner gentle and surprisingly unhurried. The long stand seemed to be hollow on the inside, with enough space for two fingers to be inserted. Isabel slid in her forefinger and the next instant she glanced at Re, a triumphant look in her eyes.

  ‘It’s here! The second-last clue,’ she whispered, almost as if she was afraid to announce it to the world.

  Re could barely contain his excitement and impatience. Outside, thunder rolled and a roaring outpour began crashing around them. The light flickered for one ominous moment and steadied again.

  Isabel withdrew the roll of oilskin. Re realized that he was holding his breath. Hope which had vanished, surged back like a flood. All was not lost. In fact they were back in the race again, heading towards the finishing line with a flourish.

  Isabel unrolled it on the marble altar top, revealing the now familiar black ink print of Reinhardt’s handwriting.

  The Trail of Four is about to end. Be ready for the BIG SURPRISE.

  Through the dark tunnel, you come to the light

  Where angels of yore have stilled their wise flight

  Cherubs, a bird and 3 humans keep watch over the core,

  Even as the mirrors, like Cheaters, will glaze the real McCoy of four.

  Isabel and Re exchanged a long look. The expression in her eyes – a mix of joy and intrigue made him smile. Sea waves crashed on the shore in his mind, and the violin still played from somewhere far.

  ‘The last leg of our Trail,’ he said with awe.

  ‘And the most amazing,’ she remarked. ‘And after that, you will help me find Justin.’

  Re stared at her. She had looked away, her face partly in shadow. Outside, the rain seemed to recoup with fresh fury.

  Chapter 4

  The Venetian Room had never looked more beautiful before, Dan thought, as he stood in a corner of the room, near the tile oven. The exquisite chandelier accentuated its glory, adding sparkle to the gilt-edged frames of the paintings—and to the eyes of the superbly dressed invitees in the hall. It was a room—and an occasion—to be proud of. And Dan revelled in both, experiencing a fond moment of pride.

  The party had begun in full swing, the laughter and interaction mounting as more and more of the guests trickled in. In suits, tuxedos and gowns, the flavour of the evening was definitely chic. Tim Wagner was in his element. Perhaps that’s what retirement did to people. Relaxed them. Without the pressure of diplomatic correctness, life became so much easier. He was bending courteously towards Peter Zinger from Switzerland and Tina Armstrong, the BBC correspondent, exchanging pleasant friendly smiles. In another corner, Jim Sorey, Thomas Gilligan and Pierre Moulin were enjoying a quiet drink. Jim was an artist and illustrator and a syndicated columnist with the The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, Time and Newsweek. Thomas Gilligan was a top policy advisor and had served under President Bill Clinton. He also was a visiting professor at Harvard and the London School of Economics. But Dan knew that he had also acted as special negotiator during the Kosovo War to secure the demobilization of the Kosovo Liberatio
n Army. Pierre Moulin, an expert in monarchies, was a man of world affairs with many books to his credit, translated into Chinese, Japanese, German, Italian, Czech and Portuguese. Dan observed them all, as Taira Jehan, the foreign minister of the State of Qatar and a Ph.D. in international law from London, joined them with a glass of water in her hand.

  Such prominent personalities from across the world gathered together at the Schloss! And although Wendy, Mark and even Martina and the administrative staff mingled with the guests, Dan missed Isabel sorely. Being the fellowship manager, she normally intermingled with all the guests, ensured that the atmosphere of camaraderie prevailed, egos remained satisfied, and generally that the session went off well. And she did all that with an effortless winsome smile, a cheery picture of elegance and style. Today, he realized how important she was to the Seminar.

  ‘Dan.’ Tim Wagner approached him with a grin, his glass of wine freshly refilled. ‘What a beautiful place! Truly. Brings to mind my first visit here. Nothing has changed, except that it gets more and more beautiful with every passing year.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dan responded with a pleased smile. ‘We work very hard to preserve the history and glory of the Schloss, along with keeping pace with development.’

  ‘Right. You know what also comes to mind? Princess Stephanie. Remarkable woman, dynamic and gutsy. We almost got her when she landed on American soil, but had to let her go because of lack of proof. And the same with the other lady…the maid—oh there you are, Hollander! Excuse me Dan.’

  The hotelier was more than happy to see Tim move away to speak to the Hollander couple who had just entered. He was about to leave the Venetian Hall, when he saw Jim Sorey nod at him and approach.

  ‘Thank you for inviting me. This is splendid! I am looking forward to the discussions beginning tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s entirely the Seminar’s pleasure,’ Dan replied.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you. I overheard someone say that evidence of Mozart playing at the Schloss has been discovered. Is that right?’

  Dan shifted uneasily on his feet. Where were these rumours coming from?

  ‘No, as far as I know we haven’t found any such proof. Regardless, we still care to believe that Mozart indeed did play here at the Schloss. After all, Laktanz did patronize Mozart a lot in his time. So it’s just logical that he performed here. But if you’re looking for actual proof, I’m afraid it’s just someone’s wishful fancy.’

  ‘Ah, I thought as much. Thank you!’ Jim nodded. ‘It doesn’t matter, you are right. The Schloss is divine, and the paintings classic. You do know I curate art at some of the museums?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ Dan laughed, glad to release some tension. ‘Oh, here’s Martina. You two should meet.’

  ***

  Stefan pushed away his plate of sandwiches and checked his gun as was his habit. It was loaded. He had a distinct feeling that he might need it tonight. The wall clock showed the time as nine. Three hours to go before the final Pillar was targetted. Policemen and security were positioned at the front and back entrances of all the monuments which came in the line of the four that Re had drawn on the map of the Altstadt. Where were Re and Isabel? Isabel needed to know about Justin and his unsavoury preoccupations, even if it didn’t matter now. She would never be free of him, till she knew the truth. Unless she already did. Was that why perhaps… Stefan stopped himself sharply. He had suspected Isabel right from the beginning. Everything pointed towards her as the culprit but her continuous insistence that she had seen Justin and her claim that the dead body was not his, had made him falter. Shouldn’t he give her the benefit of the doubt?

  With an impatience bordering on almost self-infliction, Stefan tucked his pistol into its holder. First things first. He had to be at the Schloss now and ensure that the party went off well. Armed men were already stationed at the gate and some inside the Halls, but Stefan did not wish to take any risks. It was pouring outside and dark as night. He shrugged on his thick black jacket and made his way to the lift.

  His cell rang just as he reached the elevator.

  ‘Sir, we’ve found a lead to Richard. He’s put up in a hotel in the new town.’

  ‘Right, message me the address. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  ***

  ‘Do you want a little more coffee?’ Isabel asked.

  ‘ Yes, please, merci,’ Re said with pleasure.

  He felt a lot better, now that he had some food down him.

  They were in the dining area of the B&B. The cook had made them quick coleslaw sandwiches and coffee and Re had hungrily devoured them. Isabel too had tucked in.

  ‘There’s no replacement for food, right? I’ve worked for hours on my research but hunger always interrupts, however engrossed my state.’

  ‘I agree. Sometimes, in the midst of filmmaking, I neglect to eat, but when my stomach protests, the loud noises disturb the actors in the shoot!’

  Isabel chuckled. ‘You mean the mikes pick up the sound?’

  Re laughed. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You know, this moment could’ve been so perfect. Rains lashing Salzburg outside, the secure, cozy comfort of this age-old hall and this hot cup of coffee. It would’ve been a perfect evening to relax and chat,’ Isabel sounded wistful.

  ‘It’s all still perfect. We’ve solved the seven clues of the trail and we are now a stone’s throw away from unravelling the riddle altogether, and unlocking the gift from its hiding place.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean,’ Isabel sighed.

  ‘I know what you mean, but Isabel, you have to face this once and for all. If you really saw Justin inside the crypt, the fact is that he did not come forward to meet you. Which means that either something compelled him not to or he did not wish to. I know I may sound a bit brutal about this, but…’

  ‘No, you’re right. I’ve been thinking of what happened in the crypt for the last few hours. Why did he not speak to me? And I think, it’s because he did not wish to,’ she admitted, staring at the cup in her hand.

  ‘There’s also something else we need to decipher. Who called you to the crypt in the first place? And why? Because this person never did turn up, did he? Instead, you saw Justin. That opens two theories or possibilities to me. One, that it was Justin himself who sent you that message, perhaps in the hope of talking to you. But didn’t, for any number of unknown reasons. Secondly, it was someone who knew that a bomb was planted in the cathedral, and deliberately sent you there, to…’

  ‘Kill me?’ Isabel completed with a startled look.

  ‘Oui, precisely.’

  ‘But why? Why would anyone want to kill me?’ she appeared bewildered.

  ‘Perhaps for the same reason that Justin has gone missing? Perhaps there’s something you know that should not be revealed? Perhaps you are a threat to someone or something?’

  ‘That makes no sense.’ Isabel shook her head.

  ‘Perhaps not now, but when we see the bigger picture, it will. Because this is all connected to the theft of the heart and the Pillars and Reinhardt’s gift.’

  ‘Even Justin?’

  ‘Of course. After all, he was the one who wrote about it on the piece of paper. “5th heart, Veronique—”.’ Re paused in mid-sentence, a look of astonishment on his face.

  ‘What is it?’ Isabel caught on at once.

  ‘Veronique. The name Justin wrote on the paper. Could she be the maid Veronique who later on turned into a spy? The maid who was madly in love with Max Reinhardt who never bothered to even glance in her direction?’

  ‘Yes, that’s possible,’ Isabel replied, waiting for more.

  ‘Is it also possible that Justin met someone connected to Veronique, got to know about their plan to steal the heart and wrote it down, so he wouldn’t forget? But someone realized that he knew, so either kidnapped him or…’ ‘No, he’s alive,’ Isabel cut in quickly. ‘So you mean he could’ve met Veronique’s great-granddaughter or son. The maid’s great-grandson…’

>   She paused and a glint appeared in her blue eyes. They looked with wonder at each other again.

  ‘Perth!’ they both exclaimed at the same time.

  ‘Perth has admitted that his great-grandmother worked as a maid and was accused of setting fire to the Meierhof. No one really knows her name now. Could it have been Veronique?’

  They both fell silent, reflecting deeply on the puzzle.

  ‘But Perth and Joanna claim that they were invited to the Schloss by the generosity of an anonymous person. Their rooms were reserved two months in advance,’ Isabel pointed out.

  ‘That’s not a very difficult scene to plan. Book the rooms yourself and then pretend that some anonymous person sent them invites. Very convenient for Perth then to target the Pillars and look for the Trail under the cover of a guest.’

  ‘Sounds very plausible.’

  ‘Look, let’s just get the last clue over with. Everything depends on the Gift and what happens after we find it,’ Re suggested.

  ‘You are right. Let’s get to the grand finale!’

  ***

  Stefan stared at the drab hotel room. The hotel manager’s description of Richard had matched theirs, and now, as Stefan and his men took a quick look, the hotel manager stepped discreetly aside. The room was empty except for a couple of articles on the table. Stefan picked up the small leather pouch, the type youngsters these days wore around their waists, and quickly unzipped it. It was empty. He felt the insides of the satin compartment and his fingers rustled against two stiff cards of different shapes. He withdrew one and for a moment stared uncomprehendingly at it. It was a visiting card, which displayed the co-ordinates in a flamboyant manner: Kit Ausbran, Intern, Schloss Florenberg.

  Kit? The intern from Schloss Forenberg? Stefan withdrew the second card and sucked in a quick, startled breath. It was a photograph: a full-figure shot of Re and Isabel talking by the lake bench. A big red cross was slashed across the picture. Stefan’s heart began a tremulous tattoo. Re and Isabel were in danger! He knew that with a dead certainty.

  ***

  ‘Through the dark tunnel, finally comes the light

  Where angels of yore have stilled their wise flight