“May I introduce my friend here, Viscount Remitrov,” Pavel said grandly,
“That’s Javelin Mortimer,” I whispered to Mr Mekanos.
“Well yes, but I assure you, this version is completely harmless, gentle as a lamb… and he has a memory like the sieve.” Pavel laughed slightly. “Still, not a very likable fellow.”
I shook the man’s hand. It was limp. He smiled back uncomprehendingly— there was nothing sinister there.
Pavel leaned over and said rather too loudly, “I’d count my fingers if I were you,” then laughed at my expression. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t speak a word of English. His French is quite good though,” Pavel explained. He faced the new arrival and called out in a sing-song voice, “Bonjour, Viscount.”
Mortimer grinned back and replied, “Bonjour, Monsieur Mekanos.”
“What’s that book he’s carrying?” I asked.
“Some sort of ledger. Fancies himself an accountant these days. Won’t let me have a peek at it though.”
He glanced up at us and I smiled politely.
“This Mortimer doesn’t even know about traveling,” Pavel confided. “Madeline found him wandering around Bucharest in a sort of daze.”
“Budapest, darling.” She laughed from across the room. “He’s a leave-behind of course, mark my words…”
“You and your leave-behinds, honestly Maddy,” Pavel scolded. He turned to me. “So she claims anyway…”
“Tell me, Pavel,” Madeline began, “why did I discover him jumping over and over at the ruins where nothing seems to happen?”
“I thought you found him in Romania?” Pavel replied.
“Bulgaria, dear, and that was long after I met him at le cercle de nul.”
“I remember you mentioning another weird place that people jumped from,” I said to Madeline. “Where exactly is it?”
“Goodness… some god-forsaken hotel on the shores of the Aral Sea.”
Pavel scoffed loudly.
“He’s not the same guy who burned down the Library?” I asked.
“Which library is that?”
“Any library.”
“If you mean Alexandria, I will only say the accounts of that particular incident vary widely.”
“But Fynn said—”
“Fynn bears Mortimer a grudge. It’s between them, not between me.”
“Where is he? Professor Mallinger, the other Mortimer, I mean.”
“Disappeared into the future, I believe. We haven’t seen the likes of him for nearly a century.”
I knew this was not exactly true, having encountered him just a year ago, though I suppose it may have been a different version of the same man, or a different timeline. It was too hard to think about at the moment. I did wonder though, if his scorpion-like character could be dismissed so easily.
“So there’s no question of nature versus nurture here?” I asked.
“With Mortimer, you mean? That is a good question, Patrick. I suppose we’ll have to keep an eye on him after all,” Pavel said and winked.
I looked over at the seated man. His smile did not seem at all sinister, but in the corner of my eye, I thought I saw this Mortimer steal a glance at the cane that I had left in the foyer.
***
“Jumping to the future and finding one’s self already there is the most unusual thing I’ve ever heard. Must be a fluke,” Pavel said strenuously and added his double laugh. “I’ve never experienced such a thing, have you, Madeline?”
“Oh Pavel, I’m sure you don’t want me to speak for hours on end about that particular topic.”
“No, you’re right. We should hear what Patrick has to say.” He turned to me.
“Well, I jumped to the present from the past and I found my doppelgänger already there waiting for me.”
“Sounds dreadful. Where’s this other you now?”
“Dead… Murdered, I think.”
“What a way to start your week.”
“It all has to do with the cane, I think. Seems to prevent any kind of soft jump.”
“The cane… oh yes, where is it by the way? I’d love to see it.”
I shot a glance in Mortimer’s direction and Pavel caught on instantly. He called to the Count, and spoke in French. Mortimer smiled and eagerly rose from his chair. “Coco all around?” Pavel asked everyone present. “Lattes?” He turned back to the Count and said, “L’argent est sur la table.”
Mortimer nodded and gave us a smile, then departed with a slight bow.
“Where’s he gone?” I asked.
“To get us all a light supper,” Pavel explained absentmindedly as he turned his attention to the cane. “How extraordinary,” he muttered after a few minutes of close examination.
“What?”
“Well, it’s only that it looks so ordinary. I can’t find any sort of mechanism inside. It seems to be just a walking stick.”
“It is,” I said.
“What?”
“I have some bad news. I lost the real cane.”
“Good gracious, this is worse than terrible. What’s happened? Where’s it gone?”
“Lost luggage.”
“Eh?”
“My flight to Amsterdam via JFK.”
“Oh, so not a conspiracy, but incompetence, you say.”
“It would seem so.”
“Nothing is what it seems, dear boy,” Madeline said, helpfully or not.
“Well, you must go and fetch it at once.”
“They’ll forward it to my hotel once it’s been found. I’ve been promised.”
“Your hotel… in Amsterdam?”Anika asked.
“Oh…”
“Well, where are you staying in Paris then?”
“Not really sure…”
“You must be our guest,” Pavel said expansively.
“Doesn’t look like you have room for us here.” I glanced around the cramped apartment.
“Nonsense, we have a spare room,” Pavel replied and strode over to another set of double doors. I expected them to open onto a lavish bedroom, or even some odd dimensional rift that was larger on the inside than the outside. When I looked over though, I could see only a small closet with a cot inside and overflowing bookshelves, which had spilled their contents.
***
“Ah, Magistrate, I was just coming to visit you…”
“Il Dottore, how do you fare on this lovely day?”
“This would be my question for you, my Lord Magistrate.”
“Well, never better, thank you for asking. Your treatments have made a new man of me.”
“This is not what I’ve been told.”
“That’s rather impudent.”
“Apologies, but your family, your colleagues, even your servants grow ever more concerned for your well-being.”
“How so?”
“They say, you do not seem yourself.”
“Nonsense, I’m as right as rain.”
“No visions, voices in your mind?”
“No longer. Not since your sleep tonic and a few restful nights. I’ve never felt better.”
“Well, his Eminence would not be pleased to hear you are mingling with the prisoners.”
“What are you saying? I’ve done no such thing.”
“There is talk about it… I believe you have been bewitched in some way.”
***
The next morning I woke with a strange dream, though it felt more like a memory, and I was happy that it faded as Pavel eagerly explained his plan for going back to 1964. Anika was sleepily making coco. Madeline was preparing tea, and the Count was still in his room.
“You’ll need help if you hope to fetch Edmund from the Flatlands, and perhaps a small boat.”
“Would the cane work?”
“Likely… but it’s not in your possession.”
“I know where it is.”
“You think you know.”
“Well, I know where Edmund’s compass is. It’s in Sand City. My doppelgänger had i
t with him.”
“Your dead doppelgänger?” Pavel asked.
I took his meaning.
“Nonetheless, I should be able to fashion a crude device, a means of escape, so I’ll be coming with you both.”
“Both?” I asked.
“You and Anika.”
“Why Anika?”
“I’m glad you asked. This is where it gets a bit complicated.” Mr Mekanos hedged. “I’ll bring my tools along of course.”
“I’m really not getting this,” I said.
“Oh, well, I’ll need a few more crystals, such as the one she’s wearing.”
“Anika?”
“Her necklace.” Pavel called to her and she wandered over to sit in my lap. “It’s a xenotime crystal of unusual purity,” he explained.
“A what?”
“Xenotime… yttrium phosphate… YPO four.”
“I thought it was called a chrysanthemum stone.”
“Doubtful, I hardly see any zircon in it.” Pavel turned to Anika. “Where on earth did you get this, my dear?”
“My father.”
“Of course. Only Tractus could hunt down such a thing.”
“Where do we find more?” I asked, almost fearing the answer.
“I have an address… though again, it’s not in the present.”
“Where?”
“Nineteen sixty-four or thereabouts…”
“What a coincidence,” I muttered. “And who has these crystals?”
“The Count.”
“Count Mortimer?” I asked with some sarcasm.
“A slightly different iteration of our present Count.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure… He’s been hoarding such crystals.”
“Where?”
“His villa, on the Cote D’azure.”
“How do we get to them?”
“We’ll need a thief for that, and a damn good one.” He shot a glance at Anika, then smiled from underneath his mustache.
She burst out laughing. “Well, it seems I’ve been created for this very purpose.”
I still had serious doubts about traveling to the past. It just went against every instinct. And despite Anika’s apparent destiny, I was loath to put her in danger. Mr Mekanos didn’t seem the least bit concerned. I had one other card to play, literally. I took Pavel aside and showed him Fynn’s old credit card.
“It’s expired.”
“Yes, but I wondered if it might mean something to you?”
“Mean what?”
“The numbers, maybe?”
“Ah… let me think for a moment.” Pavel strolled over to his workbench and picked up a strange white ruler, then hastily scribbled something. He handed me the scrap of paper. “Longitude and latitude,” he announced. “Coordinates. Or is it latitude and longitude?”
“Where do they lead?”
“I have no notion at all, though there might be an atlas somewhere in all this clutter.”
“Don’t you have a computer, internet, wifi?”
“I need no such things. A slide rule is all that’s necessary for the work I do. And all the knowledge I could ever want is right here.” He tapped the side of his own head.
Madeline called out, “Oh, this silly worldwide spider web of yours… it will all be gone before you know it.”
“What?” I turned to her.
“It’s such a tenuous contrivance. You can hardly expect it to last very long. Snip one or two wires and the whole thing will come tumbling down in a great tangled heap.”
“What are you saying, Madeline?” I asked.
“Well, just that it’s all so… so… spidery. And it depends so much on electricity.”
“Electricity has been around for well over a hundred years.”
“As you say… what could possibly go wrong, hmm, my dear? No need to worry at all.”
“Is there something you know about the future that you’re not telling me?”
“We’ll just have to wait for that day to arrive.”
“What day?”
“The future, I mean… who can say what it might be like.”
By this time, Pavel had pulled down a huge atlas from one of his bookshelves and began to leaf through. “I don’t see anything in the northern hemisphere… nothing off the west coast of Guatemala— or is it Peru?” He leafed through again. “Ah, close to Myanmar— Burma, as I knew it, smack in the middle of the Andaman Sea… nothing there but empty ocean.”
Anika came to the rescue with her phone. She typed in the coordinates and announced: “The Coco Islands.”
“What?” I asked, dumfounded.
“Isn’t that near Costa Rica?” Madeline asked. “Or am I thinking of the Isla de Maiz?”
“No, dear Maddy, the Corn Islands are off the east coast of Nicaragua. I think we’re being pointed to the Keeling Islands, closer to Australia,” Pavel said and smiled broadly under his mustache.
He knew something.
“What?” I asked.
“The Inquisitor, the Quantifier,” he replied. “Ha-ha, the man with many titles but no real name of his own.”
“Oh yes, that’s where his damn castle is,” Madeline said.
“Castle?”
“More of an ivory tower… I’ve never been of course… never invited.” She frowned slightly.
“How do I get there?”
“I suppose you’d have to go by boat,” Pavel said.
“How long would that take?”
“Weeks, months maybe.”
“I’d rather book a flight.”
“You’re not afraid to fly?”
“Not really.”
“Well keep yourself buckled in tightly in any case, and no wandering about the cabin. That’s my best advice.”
“Do you think my father is there?” Anika asked hopefully.
“Not likely,” Pavel replied. “Unless of course he’s been imprisoned.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Tractus and the Inquisitor don’t get along even at the best of times… It could be—”
“Surely not,” Madeline interrupted. “Say what you will about the man, but he’s not a jailer.”
“Are you sticking up for him, Maddy?”
“No… but I don’t want Anika to get the wrong idea, or worry unduly.”
“You’ve heard the same stories as I,” Pavel continued. “People go for a visit and never return.”
“Nonsense… just rumors, that’s all,” Madeline said. “Don’t listen to him, my dear.”
“Well?” I asked Anika, “Feel like traveling?”
“I’d be delighted.” She smiled. “I will check for flights.” She started in on her cell phone.
Pavel showed some concern and walked over to Anika who was now at a small desk making arrangements. “My darling, I must beg you to reconsider.”
“Reconsider what?” she asked and looked up.
“Traveling to the Quantifier’s tower, of course. Oh, it may sound adventurous, even romantic, but I can assure you, your father is not there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s not even wise that Patrick goes… He’s far better off coming with us to rescue Edmund from nineteen sixty-four… Mr Fickster knows exactly where your father is.”
Anika turned to me. “Patrick?”
I made a face. “Never a good idea to travel to the past… Your father taught me that much.”
“Alright then,” Mr Mekanos considered. “Patrick should go by all means… he may find out something useful, but I fear you would be in danger.”
Anika seemed confused and hesitant.
“He doesn’t take kindly to strangers,” Pavel persisted.
“Well… I do have some studying to catch up on…”
***
I was booked on a ten o’clock Emirates flight with a layover in Dubai, and then on to Perth. That gave Anika and I the day together. “Well, it is my first time in Paris. I’d love to do some touris
ty stuff.”
Anika smiled and took me by the arm. “I am the perfect tour guide. I know the Metro by heart and which sites to see.” She gave me a quick kiss. “Come along, we have a big day ahead of us.”
My first impression was of a city built from the same giant piece of stone, a kind of geological-aesthetic, and I found it very pleasing. Even without coffee, Paris was designed to accommodate an outdoor life. Would-be cafes and restaurants were perfectly situated, not crammed up against some busy road, or tucked between two dumpsters. It put New York to shame in many ways.
“The Tower?” Anika said. “I’m sure you’ve seen it in a thousand postcards… Well, if you must, there…” She pointed.
I could see the top of the famous spire tapering high above some rooftops, though at some distance away.
We would skip Notre Dame, Anika announced, “too many pigeons there.” And the Louvre, too crowded with tourists, especially on a Sunday. She had other destinations in mind. Our first stop was the Musee D’Orsay, and Anika led me directly to the impressionist gallery.
I was surprised by the sheer size of the canvases. “Myopic,” I commented to Anika.
“What?”
“The French impressionists… I think some of them just painted exactly what they saw, but they were nearsighted.”
“What on earth are you saying?”
I took Anika by the hand and led her to the far side of the arched room. From across the gallery, a large Monet canvas, one of his many water lilies, gradually came into perfect focus. “I think they just needed glasses.”
She did not like my theory at all. “You have much to learn about art, Patrick.”
Across the Seine, Anika took me through the Victor Hugo Sewer tour, though it seemed rather sanitized. In contrast, the Catacombs were not. It was hard to imagine so many dead people in one place, their bones at least, yet there they were, artfully stacked in heaps. I’m sure we only saw a fraction of all those waiting to be resurrected.
We ended up in Montmartre, near the Moulin Rouge. “It makes me feel at home for some reason,” Anika said and laughed. Our meanderings also took us near a giant necropolis full of famous dead people.
“I have a funny feeling we’ll run into Zalika again.”
“Who?”
“The lady from the UN.”
Low City: Missing Persons (A Tractus Fynn Mystery Book 3) Page 17
