‘May I join you?’ a soft voice enquired.
‘Ah Isabel, mais oui!’ He brought down his hand and patted the step.
She settled down beside him, her jean-encased legs stretched out before her.
‘Using your eye-piece vision?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And is it helping?’
‘I’ll know soon enough.’
Isabel fell silent, staring out at the lake. The strains of Lara’s Theme drifted from right above them, from the Marble Hall. Probably the last performance of the night. Joanna played well, Re thought, as the sad soaring melody gripped him. Love was beautiful…unrequited love was soulful…Re closed his eyes, allowing the notes to flow through him and transport him to a world made up of equal components of joy, sorrow and love.
Then a demanding wave of inner agitation swept over him. His fingers and body tingled and a shiver spiralled up his spine. A sudden flash and the image of his sister floated before him. Nisa…her eyes beseeching and holding out her hand…then, in the next second, the image dissolved into that of the Schloss…clearly, like a picture-postcard fortress adorned in scarlet lights. But a huge dark cloud surrounded the top, like an ugly black monstrous crown. It was moving and slowly descending over the Schloss, beginning to wrap it in its black waves…
Re’s eyes snapped open with a jerk. The Schloss!
‘Isabel, it’s the Schloss! The last element is fire, isn’t it? It’s the vision that I experienced in the first place, the reason why I came here. The dark cloud I saw is the fire in the Schloss!’
‘The Schloss, but why?’ Isabel repeated dazedly.
‘Because right this moment, the top authorities of different countries that matter are here in this Schloss! And most importantly Tim Wagner! He was the one who arrested those spies, Stephanie and Veronique. It’s crystalclear to me now. The other Pillars that were targetted were also intended to take our attention away from the Schloss. Someone wants to repeat history, Isabel, except this time, it’s not going to be the Meierhof, it’s the Schloss,’ Re insisted with dead certainly.
‘Re, that someone was Justin and he’s caught,’ Isabel reminded, a deep sadness in her eyes.
But Re wasn’t listening. He dipped into his jacket pocket and took out Justin’s scribbled note, staring at it for long moments.
‘Mon Dieu! All along we had it. Look AWEF MPCL! What was the first element used and which was the first Pillar?’
‘Air and the Mozart house,’ Isabel said.
‘Exactly. So let’s match “A” from the first set of letters and “M” from the second set of letters.’
Isabel’s eye lit up as she comprehended what he was getting at. ‘You are right. “W” stands for water for the second element and “P” stand for St Peter’s Cemetery! Oh my God!’
‘Yes, here’s “E” for earth and the corresponding letter “C”, that’s the cathedral! And the last element “F” for fire and “L”—’
‘For Leopoldskron,’ Isabel finished in an awed whisper.
They both stared at each other, astounded.
‘I’m glad that’s solved. All the ends neatly tied,’ she remarked.
Re did not respond. Lara’s Theme continued to play upstairs. Images flashed before his eyes like in a film. Newspaper clippings, unrequited love, Justin’s glazed declaration of love, the smell of cigarettes…Lara’s Theme… the images formed a quick collage in his mind to make a whole meaningful picture. And the picture stunned him.
‘Isabel! Lara’s Theme…it’s all about love…’ but before he could complete his sentence, something hard whacked him like a ton of steel on the head and darkness enveloped him.
***
It was the strains of a violin melody that seeped into his consciousness, that and a severe, throbbing ache at the back of his head. He groaned. Somewhere a clock began to strike twelve. Instantly, memory gushed back and he sat up and winced, but he didn’t care. He had to stop this drama. He glanced around him. Isabel was sprawled on the ground. And a shadowy figure was moving ahead with a flaming torch of fire in hand.
‘Stop!’ Re shouted. ‘Stop, Martina! Don’t do this.’
She turned to him, her beautiful face contorted with hideous laughter.
‘Ah…You’re conscious! Never mind, you can’t stop me, Re. This is my call. This is my tribute to my great–grandmother who suffered because of so many people. Tim Wagner, who boasts that he had her arrested, the people of Salzburg who should’ve supported her but alienated her till she died all alone in misery. And Reinhardt, whom she loved with her whole life, wasn’t even aware of her existence despite the fact that she helped him lay the Trail. She pined for him till the end…’
‘Martina, it’s all a mistake. Veronique is gone. It’s history.’ ‘
History doesn’t change with passing time. She’s gone, but I will make sure that her memory lives on! The Schloss has survived a fire before but not this time. Goodbye, I am taking my Gift with me.’
For the first time, Re saw the cylinder roll in her hand. What—how?
‘Puzzled? I switched it the moment you people turned away from the pot. Poor Justin, foolish man, he didn’t even know the change of plan.’
She raised her hand to fling the blazing torch into the Marble Hall. Fury gripped Re. Without another thought, he rushed straight towards Martina, propelling her backwards. She lost her balance and he dragged her to the edge of the terrace. Martina spewed ugly angry words, kicking and hitting him, but she held on to the log of fire and the painting. She was strong and determined. They careened dangerously over the edge, struggling. Their feet slithered over the grassy bank as they both toppled into the lake. The splash separated the two of them. The dark water gushed into his mouth and ears, and for a few precious moments, Re lost orientation once more. Then he spluttered and rose to the surface. He cast his gaze around desperately, trying to spot Martina’s bobbing head. But the water rippled away undisturbed, as a wet log of charred wood drifted towards him.
A group of people rushed to the waterfront—Dan, Isabel, Stefan and some policemen.
‘Re! Are you okay?’ Isabel asked, concerned. ‘When I gained consciousness, I saw you and Martina grappling together. She had the torch in her hand. I immediately alerted the others.’
Re nodded, struggling to catch a foothold on the steps. The policemen offered him a hand and he dragged himself out of the water and on to dry land where Leo and Mo guarded the entrance. His jacket was loaded with water and a chill penetrated through his bones. Some guests had gathered on the terrace of the Marble Hall.
‘Where’s Martina?’ Stefan asked, his gaze travelling over the lake.
Re turned around to gaze at the lake. It appeared tranquil, with the translucent mist skimming the water like a gauzy covering. There was no sign of Martina.
‘I’m afraid she’s in there somewhere along with Reinhardt’s Gift,’ Re replied, dryly.
Chapter 7
The cathedral looked different, Re thought. So different from the last time he was here, which was just yesterday. And he didn’t mean the bomb that had exploded and left the ugly, angry marks in its wake. The work on the crypt wall had already begun and he knew that Salzburg would leave no stone unturned to return the cathedral to its former glory. It was the sense of eternal peace, of completion, that reached out to Re.
He led the way down the stairs to the crypt where memories of their encounter were still too fresh and raw. Archbishop Firmian’s grave, along with the others, remained untouched and the crypt emanated a reassuring aura of history. The graves around him seemed like patient bearers of a loaded past.
Stefan followed silently, his countenance a little tense and stressed. Re halted under the hanging, claw-like light and pointed to it.
‘I thought I saw it yesterday, but didn’t have the time to explore it. Anyway it seems like the most logical place for it to be in. I am pretty sure that’s the heart,’ he announced, his voice low.
Stefan nodd
ed stiffly. A red-clothed round parcel sat neatly in the lamp. He tip-toed and stretched his hand to reach the top of the lamp with some difficultly. Carefully, he withdrew the parcel and unwrapped the red cloth to reveal one of the most exquisite urns, Re had ever seen. It was shaped like a vase, but was actually a red cup with a lid, beautifully carved in gold. Archbishop Firmian’s crest was hand-painted on the side and the entire urn was a work of detailed Austrian art. Stefan stared at it for a long time, his breath short, with the effort of controlling the surge of powerful feelings.
At length, he glanced up at Re, a sea of emotions reflecting in his blue-green eyes.
‘You have no idea what this means to us. Thank you!’ he said, a tremor in his voice.
‘Bien sûr, I do,’ Re assured. ‘It’s a heart after all.’
***
The eight notes of the trail were proudly displayed in the glass cabinet of the Library. The label on the top read: ‘Max Reinhardt’s Trail of Four’. The corners of Re’s lips curled up with pleasure as the display triggered a huge wave of affection and memories.
‘Oh, there you are!’ Dan appeared, a broad smile on his face, looking as fresh as ever in his coat and tie.
He put an arm around Re’s shoulder.
‘Yes, Dan,’ he raised an eyebrow. ‘All well with the Seminar?’
‘It’s going beautifully. Tim Wagner and a few others did realize that something’s wrong towards the end of the party but since finally, all’s well now, they have settled into discussion mode. You should listen to them talk, Re. What views, what enterprise and dynamism! It’s no wonder they are leaders in their own fields.’
‘I can imagine,’ Re agreed succinctly.
Unexpectedly, Dan hugged the filmmaker and clasped his hand in a warm handshake. ‘Thank you, my friend. I owe you,’ he expressed, earnest sincerity reflecting in his gray eyes.
‘Not at all, Dan. I was glad to be of help,’ Re assured him.
‘You saved the Schloss! Nothing can be bigger than that for the Seminar—not now, not ever.’
Re nodded, accepting his assessment.
‘Wendy and Mark are waiting for you in the Reinhardt suite. Ready to meet them?’
‘Absolutely!’
Re threw one final appreciative look across the Library—the warm tones of the wood and the cold magnificence of the sculptures and lively murals reaching out to him. Then he followed the hotelier up the secret staircase to the Max Reinhardt suite. The moment the door opened, Wendy and Mark rose from the seats they were occupying by the window.
‘Re!’ Mark moved forward, his wrinkled face a mass of smiles.
The senior man shook the journalist’s hand with the warmth of a long-term friend. Wendy, too, followed suit, beaming from cheek to cheek.
‘I hope you know how much we appreciate what you did for the Seminar,’ she said.
‘Thank you, but we all worked together. It was exceptional teamwork.’
Mark nodded. ‘We just want you to know, that we are grateful for what you did. And especially this!’ He tapped a cylinder box on the table with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘That was quick, smart work, but how did you pull it off?’
Re caught Dan’s eye and smiled shyly. The short independent interval, when he had excused himself after Stefan had placed the painting in the pot, had been enough time for him to secure the painting from its cylinder and hide it behind a painting in the Meierhof lobby. No one knew that the case was empty. Not even Stefan. Especially not Justin or Martina.
‘Suffice to say that I sometimes use magic,’ Re grinned again, a little more bashfully.
Mark exploded into laughter. ‘Brilliant! Your magic saved the day. Luckily, we managed to find a similar box for it. This painting is now the Seminar’s best-kept treasure and secret which we shall reveal at the right time.’
‘It needs to be evaluated by an expert and legalities would have to be completed before we can announce its survival,’ Dan explained.
Re nodded. ‘It’s yours. Max Reinhardt meant it to be found, not lost in oblivion. I am only sorry that Martina—’
‘Every effort is being made to find her,’ Wendy cut in. ‘You needn’t trouble yourself about it. It was an accident and if you hadn’t intervened, the Schloss would’ve been ashes and rubble now.’
‘Besides, we should all remember that to a point you can control your actions, not your fate,’ Mark added.
Something in the way he said it, made Re turn to him. A hint of a smile played on the older man’s lips, but it was his intense look that held Re’s attention. He appeared wise and suddenly Re experienced a strong connection with him.
‘I agree.’ He nodded.
‘Please do join us for dinner this evening. Have a chat with the Seminar fellows. You’ll enjoy the change.’ Mark’s smile broadened.
‘I will, thank you so much!’ Re responded with a matching smile.
***
Re stood at the far end of the chapel, by the window, his eyes closed in reverence. The urn, which contained the Archbishop’s heart, was placed in an ornate box and was lowered into the grave. A group of elderly people surrounded the activity. Stefan, Dan and Isabel kept a respectful distance while the proceedings were on. Wendy and Mark helped shovel some mud over the hole. An organ played in the background, offering that air of solemn resonance to the afternoon.
Re slipped out of the chapel and out into the terrace. It was a bright sunny afternoon, almost as if the threat to the Schloss had been a physical dark cloud that had been dispelled forever. The previous night’s episode was fresh in his mind and somewhere at the back of his mind, he still searched for a glimpse of Martina on the water. This morning, Stefan had set up a search of the lake, but it had revealed only a single shoe. Martina was perhaps dead, her body entangled in the weeds.
The chapel door opened and everyone strolled out on to the terrace, where refreshments were laid out. The general exchanges were sober and low-key. These were members of the Secret Society of Salzburg, keepers of the energy of the town. Re felt a huge respect for them: in their belief, in their determination and in the energy that controlled and balanced the city of Salzburg.
Isabel approached him, a small smile playing on her lips. In a formal black coat and skirt and a white shirt, she looked every bit a historian and fellowship manager. Although her pretty face revealed lines of fatigue, she seemed bright and cheerful.
‘Hi! How’s the arm?’ Re asked. ‘And the head?’ He touched the back of his head. ‘Mine’s still sore.’
‘Healing, all the wounds are healing,’ she said, her face glowing.
‘Bon, absolutely wonderful to hear it.’
‘Re can I speak to you for a moment?’
‘Of course, ma chérie,’ Re agreed.
Isabel smiled and it transformed her whole being. The cool wind ruffled her Meg Ryan-blonde crop, and her ocean-blue eyes took on a shine of their own. They steered away from the group of Salzburgers and strolled by the lake under the chestnut trees.
‘I’ll miss that,’ she said simply. ‘The ma chérie bit. I’ll miss you, Re.’
‘I’ll miss you, too. We’ve been a great team, haven’t we?’ ‘More than that. You’ve been my biggest support. You have no clue what I’ve been through. Thank you!’
‘I’m sorry about Justin,’ Re added.
‘No need to be. Honestly, these two days have been the worst and the best days of my life. Worst because finally I saw the truth of my relationship with Justin. He confessed to the police—everything. Probably Stefan would tell you about it. But he spoke to me too. He is sinking and may not…last. But he told me that he never ever really loved me. How he married me only because he wanted to stay on as an agent in Salzburg. How he met Martina and fell madly in love with her. So much in love that he wanted to quit the CIA and join her in this crazy plan of revenge. The note he left in the book was more a reminder for him than a clue for us. He just forgot it there in his haste to leave the house for good. What hurt most was not
that he fell in love with someone else, but the fact that he wanted to incriminate me in his disappearance. No wonder Stefan was suspicious of me. Justin left a trail of false notes and conversations implicating me for his desertion,’ Isabel said. ‘Anyway, to cut it short, I realized that I had been living an illusion. I had pined for him and desperately wanted to find him and start life afresh. I grieved for him, concluding that perhaps I had really lost him. In the last few days, I have lived the full gamut of my emotions, and it has exhausted me. I was madly in love with him and I think one part of me would continue to be in love with the Justin of the earlier days, if only out of sheer force of habit!’
‘But I do hope that that one part totally loses its habit soon and you will be ready to welcome and accept real love again,’ Re added quickly.
‘Love again?’ Her lips trembled. ‘I don’t think I can anymore. There’s too much unbearable hurt.’
‘Ah ma chérie! L’amour does not exist without pain. And it’s the bitter-sweet pain that makes it special,’ Re corrected. ‘Didn’t you see what love made Justin do? What love for her great-grandmother made Martina do? What love made Veronique do? Each in their own way victims of a loving heart.’
‘Yes, I meant to ask you—how did you catch on to Martina?’
‘The smell of burnt cigarettes since the first day I met her. A photograph I saw in her room, which I later identified as Veronique’s. A newspaper clipping which spoke of Tim Wagner getting her arrested on US land ground and, most importantly, her love of Lara’s Theme which was also Veronique’s most favourite film by her own admission. She had too much knowledge of Veronique, you yourself pointed out. The dead give-away was when she asked us about the Trail in the White Room. She did discover the stolen heart, which was as per her plan, but Dan had not shown her the Trail note. At that point it didn’t strike instantly but later, I began to piece two and two together. When Justin so insensitively declared his love, lying in your arms to someone behind me, it got confirmed that he wasn’t working alone. There was someone else. And it had to be Martina, because she fitted the bill. Although the whack she gave us on the head, still hurts.’ Re looked sheepish, placing a hand tenderly on his head.
The Trail of Four Page 28
