by P. W. Child
Matteus was standing in front of Donatello’s Maddalena Penitente, a blank manila envelope in his hands, held casually behind his back. Nina walked straight up to him, greeted him in a politely formal way, accepted the envelope and walked away. Questions about her destination would not be answered until she was back downstairs, collecting her case from the cloakroom. While she waited for it to be fetched she slipped the printed tickets out and examined them. Stazione di Milano Centrale – Milan Central Station. Whether that was her destination or just a stop along the way, she did not know. All she knew was that she would be travelling by train, leaving from Santa Maria Novella that same evening.
As she stepped out of the museum into the early evening darkness, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Someone was lurking under the arches of the loggia of the adjacent building. Someone dressed in dark clothes, with a hood pulled up. The air was damp with the threat of rain, so it was possible that the hood was just a sensible precaution… but Nina could not see the person’s face, and it gave her a bad feeling. Unbidden, her mind threw up the image of the intruder who had broken in. Was the dark figure the same person? ‘Looks like the same height and build,’ Nina thought, ‘but that could just be my imagination. Just fear. Still, better safe than sorry. Time to get out of here.’
She quickly crossed the street, past the Duomo, along Via dei Cerretani towards Via Panzani. Not wanting to look round and risk letting anyone know that she thought she was being followed, she relied on reflections in darkened shop windows to tell her whether there was anyone on her tail. It was hard to be certain. There were plenty of people around, and many of them were wearing dark clothes. Without being able to stop and scrutinize, she could only go with her instinct – and her instinct was screaming at her to put it to the test, to find somewhere she could duck indoors and see whether the figure followed. Ahead of her, a middle-aged couple stepped through a lit door into a small church, apparently holding an evening service. ‘That will do,’ she thought, and followed them in.
The heavy oak door of the church closed with a muted thump behind Nina. A small congregation sat scattered throughout the pews, listening to the comforting drone of the priest. One or two turned to look at her reproachfully for missing the start of the service, so she assumed an air of contrition as she dipped her fingers in the stoup. She bowed her head, letting her hair fall forward to conceal her face and hurried as far towards the front as she dared.
She had no sooner taken her seat than she heard the door open again. A few seats away, one of the old men who had turned to look at her gave an irritated sigh, glaring first in her direction then at the newcomer. Nina forced herself to turn round, willing the new person to be someone she had never seen before, someone whose arrival at this time was entirely coincidental.
Her prayers were not answered. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she took in the long dark coat, the pulled-up hood and the trailing ponytail sitting over the shoulder. Even in the light of the church, she still could not tell whether the figure was a man or a woman. All she knew for certain was that she had not been imagining things. Whoever it was, this person was definitely following her.
She glanced around, hoping to see a side door that she could slip out of without her pursuer noticing, but there was nothing – or if there was, it was concealed behind the heavy gilt that adorned every surface. That same gilt reflected the light from the central aisle, meaning there was no chance of sneaking down the side aisles to reach the main door, and Nina felt sure that if she tried she would attract the attention of the disapproving worshippers whom she had already offended. They might not do or say anything beyond a sigh or tutting, but it would be enough to draw attention to her exit.
‘Looks like I’ll have to stay, then,’ Nina thought. ‘The service has to end at some point, and when it does I can ask the priest for help. There has to be another exit. If I can just persuade him to let me out that way, I can get myself into a taxi and be long gone by the time this person catches up.’ She glanced at her watch. 45 minutes before the train was due to leave. ‘I hope it’s not a long service…’
*
“Panem nostrum cotidiánum da nobis hódie, et dimítte nobis débita nostra…” Nina mumbled the words of the Lord’s Prayer along with the rest of the congregation, stumbling over the pronunciation as she dredged up the Latin words from the recesses of her memory. Shifting her wrist to reveal her watch, she stole another glimpse. Twenty minutes to the train. Fifteen minutes to the station if she walked fast. Five in a cab.
It had been years since Nina had last set foot in a church as anything other than a wedding guest. Even then, she knew very few Catholics and had not attended Mass since Religious Education had compelled her to do so. Desperately she tried to remember what still had to happen. Was the Lord’s Prayer the end? ‘No,’ she thought, ‘there’s Communion still to go. When does that happen? It’s the very last thing, isn’t it? How much is there to go before we get there?’
She did not realize that she had trailed off and stopped reciting the prayer until a sudden movement brought her back to her senses. The woman in the pew in front of her turned round to face her, and Nina jumped, expecting to be told off or threatened or perhaps just grabbed. Instead the woman stuck her hand out towards Nina and muttered something. It was not until she repeated it that Nina caught the words “Pax vobiscum.” With a sigh of relief she took the proffered hand and shook it. Her memory refused to yield the correct Latin response, so she reached for the nearest equivalent she could find. “Und mit deinem Geiste.” The woman looked a little confused, but she said nothing. Her duty done, she turned back to face the front again.
“Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona nobis pacem…” The congregation mumbled in unison, over and over. Nina joined in absent-mindedly, risking a glance over her shoulder in the direction of her pursuer.
To her surprise, the hooded figure was gone. The seat was empty. Nina’s heart leapt. Seeing her chance to make a break for the station, she inched her way along the hard wooden bench, getting ready to run. Just as people began getting to their feet to join the queue for Communion, she felt fingers close round her arm.
“Don’t look round,” a voice behind her instructed; the same voice she had heard the night before. “You are Dr. Gould, yes? Simply nod. I am certain that you are her, so, there’s no sense in attempting to deceive me. There is something we need to discuss, Dr. Gould. But we must not be seen together. Go and join the line. I shall be right behind you.”
Nina rose reluctantly and made her way towards the growing line. Another glance at her watch confirmed her suspicions. Time was running out. ‘I’ve got to make that train,’ she thought. ‘If I get stuck here on my own…’ She could not complete the thought. She honestly had no idea what would happen if she were stuck on Florence on her own. But she could imagine that without expert help, she would quickly find herself unable to avoid the long reach of the Order of the Black Sun.
With sudden certainty Nina spun round, ready to face her pursuer and fight her way out if she had to. But the hooded figure was not there. They were stuck behind an elderly lady who was taking her time to get to the aisle. Nina saw her chance. Calmly, carefully, she walked towards the door, slipping through the congregation as they walked in the opposite direction to her.
As she turned the heavy iron handle she saw the hooded figure looking for her among the throng seeking Communion. The obscured head turned towards her just as she slipped out of the door and into the dark street. ‘Ten minutes,’ she thought as she began to run. ‘I can do this.’
*
The bright lights of Via dei Panzani blurred into streaks as Nina raced along the pavement. All she could do was curse internally as she blundered into groups of pedestrians, forcing herself onward towards the monolith that was Santa Maria Novella. Through bleary eyes she scanned the departures board for Milano Centrale, then took off again at full pace towards her platform.
She hurled herself
onto the train just as the door closed behind her and collapsed to her knees, gasping and wheezing. As the train gathered speed, carrying her away from Florence, Nina limped through the carriages to find the seat in which she would spend the next hour and a half speculating about their next destination.
Chapter Twelve
“Dr. Gould?”
Nina jumped. Had her pursuer caught up with her? She glanced round. A plump, pretty woman with blonde curls had taken the seat next to hers and was smiling pleasantly at her.
“Nein,” Nina replied curtly. “Tut mir leid.”
The woman seemed neither surprised nor confused. “Wie heißen sie dann?”
“Sabine,” said Nina, thinking that it would be less suspicious to supply her false name than to refuse to answer the question. “Warum?”
“I’m terribly sorry,” the woman said, “but may we speak in English? My German is not what it once was, and I am certain to confuse you if I lapse into Flemish by accident. I believe you know a friend of mine – Matteus?”
Remembering her instructions, Nina nodded.
“Ah, how wonderful!” the woman cried. “I hope you will not mind the imposition, but Matteus told me that you would be travelling this way and suggested that I go with you. We are going the same way, I believe, and dear Matteus knows how nervous I get about travelling alone, ever since the death of my fiancé.”
“Of course.” Nina allowed the blonde woman, who gave her name as Axelle, to squeeze her hand and exclaim over how glad she was to have company, since a woman travelling alone never knew the dangers she might encounter and no-one would be likely to cause problems for two women travelling together. Nina understood the subtext well enough – if the Black Sun was looking out for Nina, they were either looking for her alone or accompanied by Sam, Purdue or both. They were not searching for two women.
“But where are your bags?” Axelle cried, observing the empty space under Nina’s seat and the vacant luggage rack above her. “Don’t tell me they were lost at the airport! Baggage handlers can be so clumsy, don’t you think? How fortunate that you had your tickets on your person! Though I think this is yours – did you drop this? A strange sort of luck you are having today!” She reached down and plucked a ticket off the floor. Nina was certain it had not been there before, but she took it and examined it. It was a ticket for Milan’s airport shuttle. “Yes, yes that’s mine,” she said. Axelle offered no further information about their eventual destination, just a beaming smile, an unstoppable flow of chatter, and a much-appreciated open wallet when the refreshment trolley arrived.
*
“Boarding passes!” Axelle trilled, fishing the papers out of her handbag and thrusting one into Nina’s hand. Now that they were no longer aboard the train, surrounded by a different set of strangers, there was no longer any need to pretend that they had just met for the first time. Nina understood the gear shift. They were now acquaintances, perhaps even friends, travelling together. She glanced down at the boarding pass, eager to know their destination.
‘Brussels,’ she thought. ‘Is that where we’re hiding out next? I wonder where we go from there. I wonder why Brussels.’
“You know, Sabine,” Axelle mused as they queued to get through security, “the more I look at that hair color, the less I am convinced it suits you. Is it not time for a change, my dear?”
Suddenly self-conscious, Nina ran her fingers through her hair. She had never liked the new color, chosen at random for the sake of a quick change of appearance. “You may be right,” she said. “I suppose I ought to book myself an appointment at the hairdressers as soon as we get home. You’ll have to advise me on what color I should try next. Red, perhaps? I think it might suit me...”
As she chattered, Nina glanced around as casually as she could, noting the other travelers around them. Near-interchangeable men in suits, differentiated only by the colors of their ties, women in designer coats, identifiable by their handbags and hairstyles, tourists distinguishing themselves from one another by the colors of their souvenir sweaters. She tried to memorize them, every single one, and to be alert to any of them paying particular attention to her. The plane would not board for another half hour. Plenty of time for things to go wrong. Best to stay vigilant. Best to be aware of who got on the plane along with them – and who got off and went in the same direction.
Chapter T hirteen
Catching sight of Nina in the main hall of Bruxelles-Midi, Sam threw caution to the wind and rushed over to scoop her up in a tight bear hug.
“Eventful trip for you too?” she asked, using what little air he had left in her lungs.
The moment Sam had let Nina go, Axelle ushered them swiftly towards the main exit. The taxi rank outside was empty, but they had to wait for no more than a few moments before a minicab drew up.
“Pour Axelle de Bastide?” she asked. The driver nodded and got out of the cab, and while he threw Sam and Axelle’s bags into the boot Nina climbed into the back. Then, to her surprise, the driver simply walked away and left the cab unattended. Axelle climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Isn’t he going to be a bit pissed off?” Nina asked, gesturing at the departing driver as Sam got in beside her.
“You didn’t see the roll of notes she just gave him,” Sam muttered. “I think there’s been an arrangement of some kind.”
“Where’s Purdue? Shouldn’t he be here too?”
“I don’t know. I was wondering that myself. But he said to do as we were told, and while that doesn’t come naturally to either of us it’s not as if we have a lot of choice. Are you ok? You look like you’ve had a hell of a time.”
Nina managed a weak smile. “It’s been interesting. But I’m fine. You?”
Sam nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s just hope Purdue is too, wherever he is.”
They fell into silence as the car sped through the streets of Brussels, out toward the motorway, dashing north. Sam leaned his head against the cool glass of the car’s window and watched the lights of the traffic flashing by in the opposite direction.
*
“Sam. Sam, wake up. We’re here.”
Blearily Sam opened his eyes and looked around. They were on a run-down street that could have been anywhere in Europe. Eighteenth century buildings, dilapidated but still elegant, stood alongside their modern counterparts, incongruous and anonymous. The darkness gave him no clue as to how long he had been asleep. “Where’s here?”
“Ghent. Somewhere in the center. Come on.”
He climbed out of the car, fetched his bag and followed Nina and Axelle through a wide archway into an overgrown courtyard. Set back from the street, behind one of the grimy modern buildings, stood a tiny chapel. Behind that was a much-repaired building, signposted as a hostel.
“This used to be a monastery,” Axelle informed them in hushed tones as she hustled them into the reception. “You will find it a little sparse, perhaps, but it is the safest place I could find for you.” She rang the bell. A tall, bored-looking man appeared from an office and handed over a key at her request, scarcely troubling to look at Sam and Nina. Axelle assured the man that she knew where she was going – not that he seemed inclined to offer directions even if she had not – and led them up three creaking flights of stairs to their room.
The door swung open to reveal a spacious but unadorned cell. Two twin beds were pushed against opposite walls, and the ceiling sloped sharply upwards. “I must leave you shortly,” said Axelle, “but first, take these.” She handed each of them an envelope. “New papers. Those are new identities for either one of you. You will also find pre-paid credit cards in there, which you can use without incurring activity on any bank accounts that might alert anyone to your presence. We have included all the information you will need in order to use your cards. I would urge you to remain in this building as much as possible. Meals are served in the refectory and you will be given directions to the courtyard where you may take exercise. Any other excursions should be -”
“It’s alright, Axelle,” Nina interrupted. “We know the drill. Will we be seeing you again?”
“I do not know. I was engaged at short notice for this task alone; I have no further agreements with Mr. Purdue after this. Though I would expect that I will help to facilitate his own arrival, when the time comes.”
“Then just in case we don’t see you again, thank you for all your help.” Nina took Axelle’s hand and shook it. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” Axelle replied with a modest little shrug. She gave them both a smile and turned to leave, then thought better of it and paused on the threshold. “May I speak frankly for a moment? I know you have no more reason to trust me than anyone else, but… beware of Mr. Purdue. He is your friend, I know, but he is a dangerous man. Take great care in your dealings with him.”
Sam nodded slowly. “We know. Thank you, Axelle.” He smiled and closed the door behind her, then looked around at their new accommodation. “Well… Of all the places I’ve ever found myself in, I never expected to be hiding out in a monastery. Coming down for Vespers, Nina?”
*
Unsurprisingly, Sam was not in earnest about investigating whether the little chapel still carried out evening services. After a long day of waiting, travelling and hiding, both Sam and Nina were exhausted. They collapsed into their hard, narrow beds gratefully. Nina was asleep within minutes, but Sam found himself caught between fatigue and wakefulness, longing to sleep but unable to still his racing mind.
Not the most contemplative person at this hour, he found himself staring at the little bundle of curves on the opposite side of the room. Involuntarily his mind went there – what he was to Nina, what he really was when she was alone and did not have to lie to the world. It was a bittersweet thought, but one that carried a weighty warning that he had to remember that she chose Purdue over him. He had no doubts about her undying friendship or even her amicable affection, but there was the paining sting of a thorn in his heart every time he dared ponder on her true feelings for him and the admittance that she was far more to him than just a friend, whether she knew it or not – whether he could acknowledge it or not.
