Mario Reading - [Adam Sabir 01]

by The Nostradamus Prophecies (epub)

  45

  Sabir heard the crash clearly from his hiding place across the small square in front of the Sanctuary. He had been listening with all his attention ever since he had first heard the distant sound of barking chair legs from deep inside the Basilica. The crash, however, had come from much closer to where the Virgin was situated.

  He broke cover and made straight for the heavy crypt door. It was tightly sealed. He backed away from the building and glanced up at the windows. They were all too high for him to reach.

  ‘Alexi!’ He tried to make his voice carry through the Sanctuary walls, but not further than the courtyard itself. It was a tall order - the courtyard acted as a perfect echo chamber. He waited a few more moments to see if the door would open, then, grimacing, he tried again, but louder. ‘Alexi! Are you in there? Answer me.’

  ‘Hey you! What are you doing here?’ The elderly gardien was hurrying towards him, a worried expression on his face. ‘This area is entirely closed off to tourists after nine o’clock in the evening.’

  Sabir offered up a brief prayer of thanks that he had left his holly stick behind him in his urge to get across to the shrine. ‘Look, I’m terribly sorry. But I was passing by and I heard a terrible crash from inside the shrine. I think someone’s in there. Can you open up?’

  The watchman hurried forward, relief at Sabir’s non-aggressive tone now mingling with his anxiety. ‘A crash, you say? Are you sure?’

  ‘It sounded like someone was throwing chairs about. Do you think you’ve got vandals?’

  ‘Vandals?’ The man’s face took on a curious livid quality, as if he had suddenly been vouchsafed a foretaste of Hell. ‘But how could you have been passing by? I shut the outside gates ten minutes ago.’

  Sabir suspected that the gardien was probably encountering the first real crisis of his career. ‘Look. I’ll be honest with you. I dozed off. Over there on the stone bench. It was stupid, I know. I’d just woken up when I heard the crash. You’d better take a look. I’ll back you up. It may be a false alarm, of course. You’re responsible to the church authorities, aren’t you?’

  The man hesitated, temporarily confused by Sabir’s plethora of different messages. Fear for his position finally won out over his suspicions, however and he began to feel around in his pocket for the keys. ‘You’re sure you heard a crash?’

  ‘Clear as a bell. It came from just inside the Sanctuary.’

  At that exact moment, as if to order, there was another, louder crash, followed by a strangled cry. Then silence.

  The watchman’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. Hands shaking, he inserted the key into the massive oak door.

  46

  Achor Bale opened his eyes. Blood was trickling down his face and the runnels at the side of his mouth - he darted out his tongue and mopped some up. The coppery taste acted as a welcome stimulant.

  He eased his neck against his shoulder and then scissored his jaws open and shut like a horse. Nothing broken. No real harm done. He glanced downwards.

  The gypsy had tied him to the chair. Well. That was only to be expected. He ought to have checked over every inch of the Sanctuary first. Not assumed that his intervention with the girl had been enough to drive them off. He had never expected her to survive the river. Tant pis. He should have killed her outright when he had the chance - but why risk leaving traces when nature can do the job for you? The call had been a good one - the end result was just one of those things. The three of them had been incredibly quick off the mark. He must revise his opinion of Sabir. Not underestimate him again.

  Bale let his chin fall back on to his chest, as if he were still unconscious. His eyes were wide open, though and taking in all the gypsy’s movements.

  Now the man was clambering down the side of the display cabinet, the Black Madonna in his hands. With no hesitation whatsoever, the gypsy then upended the statue and stared intently at its base. As Bale watched, Alexi set the Madonna carefully on the floor and prostrated himself in front of it. Then he alternately kissed and laid his forehead on her feet, the baby Jesus and on the Madonna’s hand.

  Bale rolled his eyes. No wonder these people were still persecuted by all and sundry. He felt like persecuting them himself.

  The gypsy stood up and glanced across at him. Here it comes, thought Bale. I wonder how he’ll do it? Knife probably. He couldn’t really see the gypsy using the pistol. Too modern. Too complicated. He probably wouldn’t be able to figure out the trigger mechanism.

  Bale kept his head resolutely on his chest. I’m dead, he said to himself. I’m not breathing. The fall killed me. Come over here and check me out, diddikai. How can you resist? Just think what fun you’ll have boasting about your exploits to the girl. Impressing the gadje. Playing the big man amongst your tribe.

  Alexi started across the floor towards him. He stopped briefly to pick up one of the fallen brass candlesticks.

  So that’s how you’re going to do it, eh? Beat me to death while I’m tied up? Nice. But first you’ll have to check if I’m still alive. Even you wouldn’t stoop to beating up a dead man. Or would you?

  Alexi stopped in front of Bale’s chair. He reached out and eased Bale’s head away from his chest. Then he spat in Bale’s face.

  Bale threw himself and the chair backwards, kicking viciously upwards with both feet as he did so. Alexi screamed. He dropped the candlestick and fell, first to his knees, and thew, groaning, he curled himself up in a ball on the ground.

  Bale was on his feet now, hunched forwards, but with the chair still attached to his back, like a snail. He hopped towards Alexi’s writhing body and threw himself backwards, corkscrew fashion, chair foremost, on to Alexi’s head.

  Then he rolled away, one eye on the main door of the church, the other on Alexi.

  Twisting his body sideways, Bale managed to roll most of his weight on to his knees. Then he lurched upright and allowed the weight of the chair to carry him backwards against a stone pillar. He felt the chair begin to splinter. He repeated the exercise twice more and the chair disintegrated behind him.

  Alexi was twitching. One hand was reaching out across the stone fl oor towards the fallen candlestick.

  Bale shrugged off the remaining ropes from around his shoulders and started towards him.

  47

  Sabir pushed past the gardien and into the Sanctuary antechamber. It was dark in there - almost too dark to see.

  The gardien threw some hidden switches and the place was transformed by a series of floodlights hidden in the roof joists. Broken pieces of wood and discarded rope lay scattered in an arc across the fl agstones. Alexi lay to one side, a few feet away from the Black Madonna, his face covered in blood. A man was crouching over him, feeling through his pockets.

  Sabir and the gardien froze. As they watched, one of Alexi’s hands emerged from beneath his body, clutching a pistol. The man lurched backwards. Alexi pointed the pistol straight out in front of himself, just as if he were in the process of shooting at the man - but nothing happened. No sound emerged.

  The man retreated towards the Basilica, his eyes fixed on Alexi and the pistol. At the very last moment he glanced towards Sabir and smiled. He drew a finger lightly across his throat.

  Alexi let the pistol clatter to the floor. When Sabir looked again at where the man had been, he was gone.

  ‘Can he get out that way?’

  The gardien nodded. ‘There is an exit. Yes. It’s how he must have come in.’

  Sabir dropped down beside Alexi - his brain was seething with possible exit strategies for themselves now. He put one hand dramatically over Alexi’s heart. ‘This man is badly injured. We need an ambulance.’

  The gardien clutched at his throat. ‘A mobile phone doesn’t work in here. It’s too near the mountainside. There’s no reception. I’ll need to phone from the office.’ He didn’t move.

  ‘Look. I’ve got the pistol. I’ll keep this man covered and make sure the Virgin comes to no harm. Go and phone for the police and an am
bulance. It’s urgent.’

  The old man seemed about to answer back.

  ‘Otherwise I’ll go and phone and you stay here. Here’s the pistol.’ He held it out, butt first.

  ‘No. No, Monsieur. They wouldn’t know who you are. You stay here. I’ll go.’ The gardien’s voice was shaking and he looked on the verge of collapse.

  ‘Be careful on the stairs.’

  ‘Yes. Yes. I will. I’m all right. I’m all right now.’

  Sabir turned his attention to Alexi. ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘He landed on me with the chair. Some of my teeth are smashed.’ Alexi’s voice was blurred, as if he were talking from somewhere deep inside a sealed container. ‘I think my jaw is maybe broken too. And some ribs.’

  ‘And the rest of you?’

  ‘I’m all right. I’ll be able to walk.’

  ‘Okay. We’ve got about five minutes, grace in which to make our way out of here and back-up to the car. Here. Take this.’ He handed Alexi the pistol.

  ‘It’s useless. It doesn’t work.’

  ‘Take it anyway. And try to pull yourself together a little while I wrap up the Virgin.’

  ‘Check on the base first.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s writing there. I couldn’t read it but it’s burned in. Just like on that coffer of Yola’s. It’s the first place I looked.’

  Sabir hefted the Black Madonna. It was a good deal lighter than he had at first supposed. Around two feet tall, it was carved out of dark stained wood and garlanded with two crowns, one on the Virgin’s head and one on that of Jesus - in addition, the Virgin wore a golden necklet. Her body was partially encased in a sort of fabric, which was coming apart across her left breast, revealing paler wood beneath. She was seated on a chair and the baby Christ was seated on her lap. His face was not that of a child, however, but that of a wise older man.

  ‘You’re right. I’m going to trace it.’

  ‘Why not take it with us?’

  ‘It’ll be safer here than out on the road with us. And we don’t want a second police force on our tail. If nothing’s stolen, there’s a fair chance they’ll drop the whole thing after a few days, with nobody but the old man to question. We’ve got what we came for. I figure this is just another fragment of a larger map that will eventually lead us to the verses.’ He laid a piece of paper across the base of the Madonna and began tracing across it with the stump of a pencil.

  ‘I can’t stand up. I think he did more damage than I thought.’

  ‘Wait for me. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  Alexi made an attempt at a laugh. ‘Don’t worry, Adam. I’m not going anywhere.’

  48

  Sabir stopped to catch his breath. Alexi was leaning against him with all his weight. Below them they could hear the distant sound of approaching police sirens. ‘I still haven’t fully recovered from my blood poisoning. I’m as weak as a kitten. I don’t think I can get you up there alone.’

  ‘How much further do we have to go?’

  ‘I can see the car now. I can’t risk calling Yola, though. Someone might hear.’

  ‘Why don’t you leave me here and go to fetch her? Both of you could carry me the last bit of the way.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘I think I’ve just swallowed one of my teeth. If I don’t choke on it, I’ll be all right.’

  Sabir left Alexi leaning against the protective fence at the edge of the path. He hurried up the hill.

  Yola was standing by the car, a worried expression on her face. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I heard the sirens. I wasn’t sure if they were for you or for someone else.’

  ‘Alexi is injured. We’re going to have to carry him up the steepest part of the hill between us. Are you up to it?’

  ‘Is he badly hurt?’

  ‘He’s lost a few teeth. He may have a broken jaw. Possibly some cracked ribs. Someone landed on him with a chair.’

  ‘Someone?’

  ‘Yes. That someone.’

  ‘Is the man dead? Did you kill him?’

  ‘Alexi tried to kill him. But the pistol jammed.’

  Yola took Alexi’s feet, with Sabir taking the main weight of his body.

  ‘We’re going to have to make this fast. The minute that old gardien talks to the police and tells them that there was a pistol involved in the break-in, we’re for it. They’ll seal off the entire valley and send in the paramilitaries. And as I remember the map, there are only three ways out of here. And they’re as good as covering the two main ones already.’

  49

  ‘I’m pretty certain nobody’s been following us.’ Sabir squinted ahead, trying to make out the road signs.

  They were beyond the main danger area now, on the Route National 20, with considerably more traffic on the road to disguise their passage. The relief in the car was palpable, as if, through luck and sheer good timing, they had succeeded in avoiding a particularly nasty accident.

  ‘How is he?’

  Yola shrugged. ‘I don’t think his jaw is broken. Some of his ribs are definitely cracked, though. Now he’ll have the perfect excuse for being idle.’

  Alexi looked as though he were about to sass her back, but then he unexpectedly changed tack and punched at his trouser pocket. ‘Ha! Do you believe this? I had it right in here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The wallet.’ Alexi shook his head disconsolately. ‘That bloody thief bastard stole back his own wallet. And it was stuffed with cash. I could have lived like a King. Even bought myself some gold teeth.’

  Sabir laughed. ‘Don’t knock it, Alexi. The fact that he was worried we might find out his identity probably saved your life. If he hadn’t gone searching for his wallet, he would have had ample time to kill you before we came in.’

  Alexi’s attention had moved on. He raised his head from the seat and flashed his remaining teeth at Yola. ‘Hey, nurse. I heard what you said about being idle. It’s not just my ribs, you know. He kicked me in the balls, too.’

  Yola extended the gap between them on the rear seat. ‘You can deal with those yourself. I don’t want to go anywhere near them.’

  ‘You hear that, gadje? This woman is frigid. No wonder no one has ever offered to kidnap her.’

  Yola drew up her knees as if in self-defence. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. Now that you’ve been damaged in the balls, you’ll make a useless kidnapper to someone too. You’ll probably be impotent. They’ll be forced to go elsewhere if they want their eyes taken out. Or use a cucumber.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Alexi reached forwards, grunting and tapped Sabir on the shoulder. ‘That’s not true, is it, Adam? That if you get kicked in the balls you’ll go impotent?’

  ‘How should I know? It could be, I suppose. You’ll know in a few days, either way.’ Sabir turned to Yola. ‘Yola, what did you mean by ‘if they want their eyes taken out’?’

  Yola dropped her gaze. She glanced out of the car window. Silence descended on the three of them.

  ‘Oh, yeah. I get it. Sorry.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Look, want to say something to the two of you. Something important.’

  ‘We haven’t eaten yet.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Never say something important when you are hungry or in pain. The hunger and pain speak instead of you and what you say is of no value.’

  Sabir let out a sigh - he knew when he was beaten. ‘I’ll stop at a restaurant, then.’

  ‘A restaurant?’

  ‘Yes. And we’d better set about finding a hotel.’

  Yola started laughing. Alexi began to join in, but stopped very quickly when he realised how much it cost him in rib and jaw pain.

  ‘No, Adam. We’ll sleep in the car tonight, as it’s too late to arrive anywhere without causing questions to be asked. Then tomorrow, first thing in the morning, we’ll drive to Gourdon.’

  ‘Why would we want to go there?’

  ‘There’s a permanent camp
site. We can get food. Somewhere proper to sleep. I have cousins there.’

  ‘More cousins?’

  ‘Don’t scoff, Adam. Now that you are my phral, they will be your cousins too.’

  50

  Captain Joris Calque did not approve of television at breakfast. In fact he didn’t approve of television per se. But the patronne of the chambre d’hôte in which he and Macron now found themselves appeared to think it was what was expected. She even stood behind them at the table, commenting on all the local news.

  ‘I suppose, being policemen, that you are always on the lookout for new crimes?’

  Macron inconspicuously raised his eyes to Heaven. Calque concentrated even more intently on his banana fritters with apple mousse.

  ‘Nothing is sacred any more. Not even the Church.’

  Calque realised that he would have to say something, or be considered rude. ‘What? Has someone stolen a church?’

  ‘No, Monsieur. Far worse than that.’

  ‘Good God!’

  Macron nearly achieved the nose trick with his scrambled egg. He covered it up with a coughing fit, which necessitated Madame fussing around him for a couple of minutes, dispensing coffee and hearty slaps on the back.

  ‘No. Not a church, Inspector.’

  ‘Captain.’

  ‘Captain. As I said. Something far worse than that. The Virgin herself.’

  ‘Someone stole the Virgin?’

  ‘No. There was heavenly intervention. The thieves were stopped in their tracks and punished. They must have been after the jewels in her and the baby Jesus’s crown. Nothing is sacred any more, Inspector. Nothing.’

  ‘And what Virgin was this, Madame?’

  ‘But it’s just been on the television.’