by Elaine Young
Chapter 8
August 1974
Ari was deep in thought as he slowly mounted the stairs to his apartment. It had been a busy morning and he was looking forward to his lunch. Suddenly he was almost bowled over by a burly figure dressed in black with a ski-mask covering his face. He could not see where the man had come from, but when he reached his landing he realised the intruder must have come out of his own door, which stood ajar.
He dashed into his apartment and his eyes met with total disaster. Drawers and cupboards had been opened and their contents strewn about. His stomach churned as he had a flashback of his father’s study that night when he was arrested. With his heart hammering, he closed the front door and locked it, pulling the chain across at the same time. Then he looked in the broom cupboard where he had concealed his dossier under the floor boards. It was undisturbed and with adrenalin tingling though his body he drew out his file. He was glad that he had listened to his intuition. He had a strong feeling that these seemingly innocent papers were the only thing that he possessed that would be of interest to any other person on this earth. As he restored order to his home, he could not find anything that had been taken, so it had obviously not been a burglary.
He realised that he had to take action. He dialled the office.
‘Professeur Mayer’s office,’ Libby’s clear voice answered.
‘Libby. I have to go away for a few days. Please just carry on, I’ll be back well before the new term.’
‘Of course. Is this a holiday?’
‘No. Unfortunately some business came up and I’m going to Venice to see my lawyer, to take some important papers for his safekeeping.’
‘Can I come too? I’ve got to get there somehow, Prof!’ she chuckled. There was silence on the other end. ‘Well, enjoy it anyway.’ He didn’t quite know how to respond to her humour sometimes, so he just said in a business-like way,
‘Any queries will keep till I get back. Goodbye my dear.’
Next he called Lefevre.
‘I had a break-in at my apartment this morning, Lefevre,’ he said without preamble, ‘and I’m taking my dossier to my lawyer friend in Venice for safe-keeping. I thought I’d warn you about this. Someone may have realised I’m asking too many questions.’
‘That is an excellent idea, Mayer. Did you call the police? No? Perhaps it is better to keep this quiet for a while. It was possibly one of Monsieur’s thugs. You didn’t see anyone? Was anything stolen?’
‘No. When I came up the stairs to my door, I disturbed whoever it was and this masked figure came barging past me, almost knocking me off my feet! The place was a mess, as though they’d been looking for something, but by the time I’d tidied up I realised nothing had been taken.’
‘Then it will be safer to get out of the way for a while. Call me when you get back, my friend.’
He put a call through to Sarah’s husband, Ettore Bragadin in Venice and arranged to visit him. Bragadin had been a good friend to Ari. He had kept in touch over the years and Ari liked the older man.
‘Of course you can come, Aristide. A visit from you is long overdue. Last time was for Sarah’s funeral,’ he chided gently.
Ari had no answer, so he cleared his throat, ‘I’ll try and get on a train although it could be difficult because it is the summer holidays. I’ll call you when I get a booking.’
He just managed to get a seat on the Simplon Orient Express that night and he packed a few overnight things, taking with him his precious file and the old leather pouch of documents his father had given him.
