by Ann Benson
“She is nineteen. My Philippa was thrice a mother by that age. My own mother was wed at thirteen. How can her age not be a factor? Her childbearing years slip away.”
“Father, I beg you, do not separate me from all that I love and cast me into the arms of an unknown man.…”
His heart nearly breaking, he gave in to her. “All right,” he said. “But she will stay with you for only one year. Then she shall return and be properly wed. I must make all the alliances I can, and her holdings are a valuable dowry.”
“Oh, thank you, Father!” She kissed him again. “But I beg you, do not tell her that it was my idea for her to accompany me. I believe that she already feels greatly indebted to me for my generosity. Let her think that this honor comes from you, for I would not have her gratitude overshadow our friendship.”
He hesitated, wondering what had prompted his daughter to make such a strange request. “Very well,” he finally agreed, though the small voice of curiosity still nagged him. “I shall tell her that it is entirely my doing. Send her to me when you return to your quarters. I would like to make the announcement of your betrothal at Canterbury.”
Twenty-Two
Janie and Bruce sat on a bench in a small park not far from Janie’s hotel, regrouping after their narrow escape from the lab’s freezer. Instead of cabbing, they’d walked. It helped to work off the afterburn of adrenaline, and restored their sluggish circulations after the harrowing spell in the freezer. Still, Janie could not seem to get warm. She huddled up against Bruce, shivering almost violently, and said, “All I want to do right now is crawl into a bed and close my eyes. When I open them up again, I want to be in Massachusetts.”
Bruce put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed it. His voice was desolate. “That sounds pretty good right about now. But I’m not going to be able to avoid questioning for too long.”
“We’ve got some time, though,” Janie said, her voice deceptively hopeful. “They probably won’t call you right away. Maybe not even until tomorrow. I can’t imagine you’d be considered a suspect right now. The only person who can put you in that lab around the time of the alarm is the security guard, and he’s dead, and there would be evidence of your presence all over that lab, even if you hadn’t been there today. You work there. It would be odd if there wasn’t any sign of you. As far as anyone else knows, you’ve been in Leeds. The cops at the storage facility and the clerk at the inn will confirm that we were both there. If you stay out of sight you might not be suspected at all.”
“But they’ll still want to talk to me.” He sounded weary and brittle. “These people are very thorough, and they don’t care whose toes they step on. That’s not my biggest concern, though. I still have no idea what we should do right now. We can’t go to my apartment and we sure as hell can’t go back to your suite.”
Janie sat up straight and looked at him in surprise. “Then what are we doing here? Why did we even bother to come here?”
“I don’t know,” Bruce said, sounding terribly confused. “I feel almost homeless all of a sudden. It seemed like a good idea to come back to the hotel when we left the Institute. Now I’m not so sure.”
“But this is the place where Caroline’s most likely to try to reach me. The only other place she’d try to reach me would be the Institute. We almost have to go back in there. And in case you need reminding, which I assume you don’t, there’s a dead body in her room.”
“You assumed correctly.” Bruce’s tone was short; their exchanges were beginning to sound strained. “I don’t need to be reminded. But the notion of dealing with it seems almost crushing to me right now.”
“We have to do something with it. If it’s found in there, Caroline will never get out of England,” Janie said, disliking the shrillness she heard in her own words.
Bruce leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in one long frustrated sigh. “This has gone beyond Caroline now,” he said. “Not only do we have to find Caroline and confine her, we have to do it without implicating ourselves. Who knows what they’ll find in the trail we’ve left behind? You can take it to the bank that they’ll find something, and they won’t be afraid to use it to build up a case against us. You and I know that we had nothing to do with this whole fiasco, but the green guys don’t. And if we get locked up before we find her, then God knows where she’ll go or what she’ll do. She’s like Typhoid Mary out there. She could traipse through half of London before anyone figures out what’s happening and stops her.”
He sat up and looked directly into her eyes. “We may have to think about the bigger picture. There are fifteen million people living in and around this city. And one thing I do remember about plague is that, left untreated, it has a mortality rate of about ninety percent.”
Janie knew that everything he’d said was true. The realist in her said, Give it up; there’s no hope. Walk away now, when they still might believe you. She remembered John Sandhaus saying, Do the right thing, Janie. She thought about how it would feel to be released from the nearly unbearable burden that had settled, uninvited, on her shoulders, so quickly and without the slightest warning. The sense of lightness she imagined was sweet and seductive, and she wanted it desperately.
She could see that Bruce was waiting for her to respond to what he’d said. He’s a good man, she thought, and I could love him, when this is all over. She knew that what she did right now would largely define their future together. It might already be too late, she thought, but I can’t do anything about that.
The night sky was beginning to lighten just slightly. Dawn was only a couple of hours away. Maybe the light of day will make things seem clearer, she thought hopefully. “Just give me till dawn,” she said. “If we don’t hear from her by then, I’ll call.”
She could see his reluctance and expected that he would say no. He surprised her by saying, “All right. Dawn.” He nodded in the direction of the hotel. “In the meantime let’s try to figure out what to do with Ted’s body.”
He rose up from the bench and stretched, then reached out and took her hand. He pulled her to standing, and she was glad for the help. His grip tightened briefly as, reunited for the moment, they headed toward the hotel.
Sarin grew increasingly impatient. Like a woman heavy with child whose time was close at hand, he’d had another burst of energy and had gone over everything one more time to be sure all was as he wanted it to be. He was nesting, preparing, digging in to ease his passage through the hard time ahead of him. No longer afraid, he was instead anxious to begin his tasks, and as the hours of the day passed, he began to think that the waiting was mofe draining than the preparation had ever been.
The dog had picked up on his master’s heightened state and followed him around the cottage with concerned eyes. Their normal daily routine had been disrupted by the flurry of activity. A creature of habit, the shaggy beast had spent the day in a state of confusion. It was unlike the old man to expend so much effort in one day.
At dusk Sarin grabbed the dog’s leash from its hook and waved it at him. “Shall we, then?” he said. Their evening walk was the first sign of normalcy in the oddly paced day, and the elated dog was soon as animated as a puppy, jumping up and down gleefully and wagging his tail.
The sky was unusually clear and Sarin looked above the treetops for the evening star. His mother had once told him that it wasn’t actually a star, but something more like the earth itself. He looked for it every night, and its presence was always a comfort to him, a sign of stability in the sky, evidence that though darkness was about to descend, lightness would follow it in due time, and all would be well. At this time of year he knew it would be found above a certain tree, and there it was, twinkling and friendly. He soaked up the image of it and imprinted it on his memory, for he wanted to take its comfort with him when he passed over.
They passed through the oaks. As they took their customary route around the perimeter of the field, Sarin
let the animal lead and allowed himself to be dragged along. The dog did his business rather quickly, but contrary to his usual habit he did not continue to trace the edge of the field. Instead, he stood quietly and picked up his ears, obviously straining for a sound in the distance. Suddenly he started pulling on the leash, almost violently, and the old man nearly stumbled trying to hold him back. The dog wanted to run, and leapt around wildly to free himself, trying to move toward the center of the field.
“Whoa,” Sarin said. “Hold on there!” He grabbed the dog’s collar and tightened it, hoping to get better control of him. The dog would have none of it and continued to strain in frustration. Sarin was forced to drop the leash, and no sooner had he done so than his pet bounded off at a frantic pace toward the center of the field, leaving his master to stare after him in wonder. “Slow down!” he called out to the racing animal; he’d never seen the dog run so fast before. “I’m coming!”
He ran as fast as he could, guided by the sound of the dog’s barking up ahead of him. He stumbled once or twice on rocks and roots. Be careful, old fool, he said to himself, there is important work yet to be done.
He’d always thought that when he grew old he would naturally be wiser than in his youth, but he was still as uncertain as a teenager, and the thought of what lay ahead of him seemed suddenly overwhelming. He pressed on, aching and panting, every step over the rocky ground a jolt to his spine.
Suddenly the dog bounded out of the darkness and leapt around at Sarin’s feet, then dashed back in the direction from which he had appeared. Sarin followed him with his eyes, and saw that the dog stopped on the crest of a small rise, not far from the familiar spot where the mud oozed up each spring. He knew there was a large rock there, embedded deeply in the ground, its rounded crown protruding just enough to be visible. As he drew nearer, he thought he made out another rounded shape near where the rock should be. When he was just a few meters away, the shape moved.
He finally reached it and came to a stop, panting and wheezing. He bent over and pushed the dog away. Peering through the darkness, he could just barely see the woman at his feet. He directed the flashlight at her face and recoiled immediately.
“Dear God!” he cried in shock. He looked again, trying to determine which of the two previous visitors had returned to him. The red hair, although matted and filthy, gave its owner’s identity away immediately.
Her condition was far worse than he’d expected it would be. “There’s no time to waste,” he said to the dog. “She’s very bad!”
The newspapers with which she had been covered had all blown away. He buttoned her ragged jacket closed, then removed his own sweater and covered her legs with it. She groaned and tried to turn suddenly, and he jumped back, frightened by her unexpected movement. He began to whimper, but quickly chided himself for his lack of courage. Gathering his wits, he raised a finger to his lips and said, “Shh! Be still now, you’ve no need to move.” He thought it unlikely that she could understand him, but he felt compelled to try to comfort and reassure her. “Everything will be fine,” he said. “You’ll be well soon. You’ll see!”
The dog whined and cocked his head; he bent down to Caroline’s hot, filthy face and starting licking her again, as if to cool her. Sarin pushed him away and shook his finger in the dog’s face, saying, “Bad dog! We must be careful with her. Now, stay here! I’ll be right back. You stay here like a good chum!”
He stood up and started a slow trot back toward the cottage. The dog took a few steps in his direction, then thought better of it and returned to Caroline’s side. After a few more confused whines he lay down next to her, warming her with his own fur. He stayed there, panting, every now and then licking her face, and waited for his master to return.
A few minutes later Sarin returned with poles and blankets. He tied two corners of one blanket to each pole and made a simple travois with which to transport Caroline to the cottage. He laid it on the ground next to her and spread it flat. As gently as he could, he lifted first her feet, then her midsection, then her upper body, onto the blanket. She started to move again, as if resisting him, so he stroked her forehead gently and said, “Be still! It will only be a few more minutes, then I’ll have you safely inside.” Using another blanket, he tied her to the makeshift stretcher so she wouldn’t slip off during the bumpy ride over the field.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he said to her before picking up the poles. “I don’t think this is going to be a comfortable ride.”
He pulled slowly in the direction of the cottage. The travois scraped over the rocks and their progress was grindingly slow. The distance seemed enormous to him from where he stood. He knew it was really just a short walk, but with the burden of Caroline’s leaden weight he had to stop frequently to catch his breath and shake the stiffness out of his arms. He looked back at his passenger many times during the journey, checking that she was still secured to the blanket, each time thanking God that she was unconscious and unable to feel the pain of movement.
A wind came up, not the fair wind he was accustomed to, but a crisp, harsh wind with a distinct chill to it. He bent lower and squinted against the leaves and bits of dirt suddenly whirling all around him. The cruel force of it threatened to push him backward, and for a few moments he made no forward progress at all. Then he renewed his efforts, leaning into the wind and pressing ahead. Finally, he reached the oaks, and as he passed between them to the other side, he could feel the wind change. It softened and then dissipated altogether, and suddenly he was warm again.
By the time Janie and Bruce reached the lobby of the hotel, they had developed something resembling a plan; it was incomplete, but it would get them started. It required a luggage cart, so Bruce grabbed one as they passed by the bell station and they brought it upstairs with them on the elevator.
Ted’s body was more decomposed than when they’d left it, but the smell had lessened somewhat, since they’d left the window open. Being as careful to avoid contamination as was possible under the circumstances, Janie and Bruce rolled him onto a blanket and wrapped him up tight. Avoiding thought, they struggled until they were able to bend it at the middle, and shoved it unceremoniously into Janie’s plastic garment bag.
When they had finally managed to hoist Ted’s bent, bagged body onto the luggage cart, they went to the bathroom and scrubbed their hands almost until they bled. Bruce sat down on the bed and stared at the cart with its grisly cargo. Then he buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. His voice was muffled as he said to Janie, “I can’t believe what I just did. And I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
“We should burn the body,” Janie said.
“We’ll have to take it out of London to do that.”
She looked at her watch; it was nearly four A.M. Dawn was just an hour away. She needed an idea.
“We can put it in the trunk of your car and take it out of London later today. At least it will be out of sight.”
He sighed deeply and stood up. “Well, we can’t leave it here.”
After another look around they wheeled the cart out of the room and took the elevator down.
In the lobby they separated. Bruce took the cart and the body and went to the car, which was parked where they’d left it across the street. Janie stayed behind and rang for the night clerk. When he came out of the back office, he had the tousled look of someone who’d been awakened from a sound sleep. Nevertheless, he was polite to her. “Yes, ma’am?” he said.
“Sorry to wake you up,” she apologized nervously.
“That’s quite all right, ma’am,” he said. He looked at her through half-slit eyes, and Janie wondered briefly if it had been a mistake to ring for him.
She mustered what she hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m going to be doing some field trips over the next few days,” she said. As an explanation for the early hour she added, “I wanted to get an early start today. I won’t be checking out, but I’m going to be leaving some important research papers in my room. They
’re scattered all over the place, so I’d prefer not to have any housekeeping done while I’m gone. I know Miss Porter in the room next to me requested the same thing and housekeeping has been very accommodating.”
“Of course, ma’am, I’ll be sure to tell the housekeeper. Now, what room was that again?”
“Seven ten,” she said. As he wrote down the room number, she looked over her shoulder and saw Bruce closing the trunk of his car. The luggage rack was empty.
“Well, thank you very much,” she said, and turned to go.
“Just a minute, ma’am. Seven ten, you said?”
She turned back, fear gripping her belly. “That’s right.”
“You’ve a message here. A gent called earlier. Didn’t seem to want to use the voice mail.”
That would be Sandhaus, notorious crank that he is, she thought, and her fear was replaced with annoyance. Your timing is impeccable as usual, John.…
He held out the paper to her and said, “I took the call myself. If you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am, the gentleman seemed a bit upset.”
She took the proffered piece of paper and unfolded it.
Robert Sarin, it read. Very important come immediately.
Moving stiffly, for he’d almost thrown out his back when he lifted Caroline onto the small bed, Sarin removed all the wet rags from her body and threw them into the fire. He watched until they caught and saw the flames leap up in protest, as if some vile force had been put to the torch and was fighting to reclaim its power. He washed her entire body with a cloth dipped in fragrant herbal water, keeping all but the part being tended modestly covered with a light blanket as he did so. It shamed him to see certain parts of her. He had never seen a woman completely undressed, not even his mother, and he was too old now to be stirred by the sight as he once might have been. The layers of accumulated grime gradually began to disappear and her skin finally showed. So terribly white, he thought to himself. He wondered how she could be this sick and still be breathing.
