Queen of the Hide Out

by Alice Quinn

  I said softly, “They’re here for me, Lani. No worry, no cry!” I’d adapted the Bob Marley song! Songs are a great way to learn English!

  She smiled at me, vaguely reassured, and put a hand on the stroller. She was obviously coming with us. I have to admit I felt relieved that I wasn’t going to leave her for the cops to gobble up. We exchanged a glance. We understood each other. It should have been clear to me by now. Wherever I went, this girl followed. I was the only person she trusted. I smiled at her.

  We walked down the corridor leading to the back of the house. Pastis jumped into the stroller. This made the twins, who were cuddled up together, giggle like little monkeys. Lani and I pushed the stroller together. Teamwork.

  76

  We snuck out the back door. There was a slightly better chance of us making it out alive that way. Emma and Lisa were in their element. We were running with the stroller (which for them was always fun), and Pastis was bouncing up and down on their knees. We got as far as the nearest hangar. I made a detour through the vegetation, trying to make my way to the secret passage Pastis and the kids had shown me.

  We found it! Well, the kids found it first. They knew the way better than I did. I knew we’d wind up far enough away from the police if we took the secret tunnel. There’s no chance they’d even know about this place. How could they have? I don’t think anybody did!

  We made it to the other end. We were back in the land of the living. I broke through the wire fencing (the bottom of it came away from the wall pretty easily), and we all climbed out onto the street.

  It was too early for many people to be around. A couple of cars passed us, but I imagine the drivers were pretty sleepy at that time of the morning. Nobody paid any attention to us.

  I so wanted to head back to our trailer, but it wasn’t a possibility. Maybe one day. I could always dream. This wasn’t even about finding the killer now. It was about saving our asses and getting as far away from this town as we could. So what did we have to do next? We had to go and get my Sabrina and then flee to Amsterdam. Once we were there, we’d sell the diamond (easy!) and then fly out to the Cayman Islands and live happily ever after.

  But would Véro’s apartment still be under surveillance? Had it ever been under surveillance? That was the big question. The whole French police force appeared to be going in for the kill back at Gaston’s castle, so there probably weren’t enough officers to cover my friend’s place.

  It was worth a bet. Double or nothing.

  We took a brisk walk through the Old Town on our way to Véro’s. I took what I thought might be a last look at some of my old haunts, places I’d spent my childhood . . . and perhaps would never see again.

  While Lani, the babies, and Pastis waited for me in the entrance hall, I went upstairs to Véro’s place to fetch Sabrina. I started out knocking on the door discreetly, and then got louder and louder the longer I waited.

  “Who is it?” whispered a soft and scaredy-cat voice.

  Véro.

  “It’s me, Cricri. Open up quickly.”

  Once inside, I opened the door to the kiddies’ room as quietly as I could and woke Sabrina.

  “Come, my sweet pea, we’re going on vacation.”

  I heard someone whispering behind me. I turned around and saw sleepyhead Ismène with her arms around Véro’s waist.

  “So do you live here now then?” I asked.

  Ismène smiled. “What about you? What are you doing?”

  “There are cops all over the joint back at the hide out,” I quickly explained. “They’re getting ready for an attack. I need to get a train out of here ASAP before they notice I’ve managed to escape. The only bit of luck on my side is that Gaston’s house is so huge, it’ll take them ages to realize we’ve gone. I’m the number one suspect, so I imagine the brothers will be OK. There’s no great danger for them. Come on, Sabrina. Go to the bathroom, wash up quick, brush your teeth, and get dressed. We’re leaving.”

  I helped her change into some of Simon’s clean clothes that Véro lent me.

  “You’ll be all dressed up like a boy too! Just like Mommy.”

  She took her little bag, her princess doll, her lunch box, and her piece of string/wool/elastic, which sometimes came in handy.

  “Do you have money?” asked Ismène. She groped through her purse and pulled out a handful of notes. “Pay me back when you can.”

  Véro also searched through a drawer and handed over what change she had.

  “Oh, girls, I’m going to start sobbing my eyes out soon,” I said.

  “Where are you going?” Véro asked.

  “I think it’s better if you know as little as possible. Let’s just say I’m going to stay with family in Italy. How does that sound? Also, it’s the closest border, so the police will fall for that one pretty easily.”

  Both of them gave me a wink. Simon woke up and immediately seemed to know what was in the cards. He hopped out of bed, rushed over to my Sabrina, and grabbed her sleeve moodily. She gave him a smile, which put him at ease. He rooted about in his pajama pocket and pulled out a marble. It was a great big one with blue, turquoise, and golden shades—a stunner. And then he gave the longest speech of his little life: “It’s to make you invlisible. Magic.”

  Sabrina gave him a loud and sloppy kiss on the cheek and replied, “Thtop, Thimon, I’m going to thart thobbing my eyth out thoon!”

  We both headed down and met up with the rest of the troupe. Pastis kissed me on the shins, and we all made our way to the train station.

  77

  The Maldonnes already had their tickets, so we climbed on board the train. Lani had to buy hers. To make sure we didn’t leave the girl at the ticket office with any lasting memory of us, we bought the ticket from one of those automatic machines. A single to Marseilles to start off with. Discreet.

  The first train out was at six a.m. We were sailing close to the wind on this one. It all depended on what time the police had planned to raid Gaston’s castle. My reservations weren’t for that train, but we were doing OK for time and sure to make the connection in Marseilles.

  The train arrived without a snag. Not a single policeman in sight. We sat down like kings and queens. (Pastis was the king!) We had a table, and all six of us managed to squash around it. I don’t think many people wanted to sit near us.

  First stop: Marseilles. Once we got there, we’d need to get Lani another ticket for the next stage of our journey. That’s how we’d do it. In stages. Little by little. I thought this was the best way to go about things. It would mean Lani wouldn’t have to show any ID or give her name when buying a ticket. At this stage we were still in France and not crossing any borders. We’d have to work out the Amsterdam leg later on.

  I took the time to check that everything was where it should be in my bag: our papers, the notebook, and the bottle of cloudy liquid. I transferred my Big Pink from the bag into my jacket pocket, then I folded the jacket up and put it above the seats in the luggage racks. Pastis jumped up on top of it and fell asleep. The children did the same—except they stayed in their seats. Lani and I just sat there and stared at each other awhile. It was such a relief for us both not to have to be running anymore. We had two hours ahead of us on this train . . . then a little coffee break. Perfect.

  I was trying to get some shut-eye, despite being overexcited by this race against the clock and devastated at the idea of leaving my Prince Charming. Everything had been so dizzying. There were so many changes and so many ideas in my head. It had been such a nightmare to get to this point.

  Lani must have been feeling the same way—utterly exhausted—because she too was trying to close her eyes but didn’t actually manage to fall asleep. At one point, she leaned in toward me and started explaining something in a mixture of bad English and strange French. After what seemed like a hundred repetitions and misunderstandings, I realized she was trying to tell me that there was no need to make the journey in small stages. She said she could get a direct ticket to Amste
rdam because she had a fake ID from the Philippines that wasn’t in her name. I suppose that was all part of being an illegal (fake passports and the rest of it). I didn’t want to dig any deeper. Sometimes people have to do stuff to survive. Hell, I know I have. Unless you’ve been through it yourself, nobody can really know what it’s like to have to up and leave your country with a new identity. There really must be no other way out for these poor people.

  When we arrived at Marseilles, we immediately felt like little fish in a big pond. It was immense. There were crowds buzzing all over the place and police officers on every corner. It was beyond belief. There were even armed military personnel pacing up and down every platform in pairs. That’s something you don’t see every day where I come from. I nearly crapped my pants. It was like a war zone! I wondered if it was all for us. No! Impossible. We had to make sure we kept a low profile. We couldn’t be spotted at this stage. Sabrina and I weren’t even dressed as girls, so that was something at least.

  We decided not to make our way through the station together. We split up. I folded up the stroller and carried it over my shoulder. I took Emma into my arms, and Lani held Lisa in hers. Sabrina carried Pastis (who was looking anxious as hell) and didn’t leave my side.

  To others, we must have appeared to be two separate families: a woman with a baby, and a man with a baby, a little boy, and a cat.

  78

  Lani went to get her tickets from the kiosk. She got the same reservations as us: Paris first and then direct to Amsterdam. She returned without a ticket. She didn’t have enough money. The tickets cost a freaking fortune! I didn’t pay any attention to the prices when I printed the tickets Gaston had sent us. It was right at the bottom of the sheet in tiny font. Our tickets had cost two hundred euros for the leg to Paris and the same again to continue on to Amsterdam. The good news was that they hadn’t even asked to see any ID at the kiosk. That could work in our favor.

  Lani started to cry. It was annoying. We were trying to slip through this station unnoticed. That was the whole idea! And now people were starting to stare.

  OK. We’d get the ticket for Paris. Between us we had enough. We’d see about Amsterdam later down the line. We’d just have to scrimp and not eat that much. We’d be OK. I told her not to worry and promised we’d find a solution.

  “Always a solution,” I said softly.

  I don’t know if she really understood. She dried her tears, returned to the kiosk, and came back with a ticket for Paris. She’d even managed to get a seat in the same coach as us. I told her we’d see her on the train, but that right then, we had to wait separately.

  We went to sit on opposite sides of the main waiting room. We acted like we didn’t even know each other existed. We had an hour before our big departure. The twinnies kept giving each other sad little peeks. It wasn’t very often that they were apart like this. It must have been so odd for them.

  From time to time, a couple of soldiers would walk by. They were so scary with their machine guns. I lowered my head and pretended to burrow around in my big bag whenever they were anywhere near us. Lani did something similar on her end. She had pretty good reflexes.

  The train finally arrived. We sat in our reserved seats and managed to settle down. I put all our coats onto the luggage racks again, but Pastis chose not to join them this time. He wanted to sit with me. An acne-ridden teenage boy and an old woman with short white curly hair were sitting opposite us where we all wished Lani was. The poor thing was at the other end of the coach next to a big old fat fella who was spilling over onto her seat. He must have been three times her size, and she wasn’t thin! She obviously didn’t dare say a word.

  Lisa was back with me, relieved to be snuggled up to Emma again. They laughed and sang and, with Sabrina’s help, played a great little game of “I Spy.” The teen was trying to concentrate on his Game Boy or whatever those things are called these days. He kept throwing me dirty looks. Pastis was sitting comfortably on my knees and scanning his surroundings with a superior air. The old woman opposite me was dressed in a jogging outfit. She must have been the sporty type. She was a crazy cat lady. She wouldn’t stop cooing at Pastis and went through the list of every cat she’d had since the beginning of time, how long they’d lived, how they’d died, what their little quirks were, what her latest one would be getting up to as we were speaking . . . I couldn’t care less. She was sneaking closer and closer to Pastis. I don’t think he was all that bothered by her.

  I was weighting the pair of them up—Spotty Boy and Loopy Lou—and trying to work out which of them would crack first and move away (then Lani could come sit with us). The old woman had stamina. She wasn’t getting tired of us one bit. She was totally absorbed in Pastis and didn’t even notice how noisy and annoying the kids were being. Maybe she was deaf?

  I could see that Pizza Face was reaching the end of his tether. He wouldn’t have been able to stand it much longer. I leaned over and said in a low voice (hoping he’d think I was a man . . . or at least a weirdo) that it might be a good idea if he swapped seats with Lani, pointing her out to him. He eyed me suspiciously. I think he figured I was pervy. Anyway, he stood up and went over to speak with her.

  She brightened up immediately! She didn’t need to be asked twice. He took her seat and I could tell how relieved he was. It seemed he’d rather sit next to the giant man and only have a quarter of a seat than be anywhere near my tribe of mischief-makers.

  This time, Lani managed to fall asleep. The kids’ racket didn’t bother her in the slightest. The old biddy got out a laptop and started typing away frantically. Who’d have thought? I took Max’s key chain out of my bag and separated the little secret key. What on earth was it for? I put it on the table next to my scarf. It was boiling hot on that train! Then I dug out the famous little notebook. I decided I might try to decode its contents. I was so hot, but I had to keep my big woolen hat on to hide my big hair.

  79

  I was staring at Max’s notebook when it suddenly all became clear. It was like that game show on TV with all those letters and you have to make words. Like Scrabble! Except in the notebook, there were numbers too. They seemed straightforward. 05/02/02 was a date, right? When it said 13/30, that had to be a time. And 23,500 was probably a sum of money. Wow! So the thing was full of numbers like that. It was always all three types grouped together on a line: date, time, cash. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it the first time I’d looked!

  The letters side of things was more complicated. They appeared to be initials. L.J. Maybe they were names. Laurence Jolly? I just made that up! Maybe the name of a place? Lieu Dit des Jardins? I used to live near there! Or an object? La Joconde? What did they call that painting again everywhere except in France? The Moany Lisa? Ha! Like my baby! Sometimes there were whole words. Villiers. Rome. Monceau. None of it was making any sense, and I didn’t think my guesswork was doing me any favors either. People? A city? Yes! They were all cities! Oh, I didn’t really know. It was double Dutch to me. Maybe someone could help me when we got to Dutchland in that case!

  “Nice key! Where did you get it from?”

  Her voice made me jump out of my skin. I lifted my head and peered at the old bid across from me. She’d really scared me. What sort of question was that, anyway? I stared at her awhile. I didn’t know how to respond. Was she a spy? Was she working with Schwartzy? Maybe he’d realized that his hard tactics hadn’t worked on me, so he was going for a softer approach?

  “Why?” I barked at her in a low voice.

  “Oh, it’s just that I’ve been searching everywhere for one like it! I can’t stand those big sticks with the stupid caps on them. I’m always losing them. At least with that one, you can put it on your key chain and know it’s safe.”

  “Umm, sure. Isn’t it normal that you’d put a key on a key chain?”

  “Don’t you believe it! They’re not all like that, you know!”

  “Huh?”

  “Whoa,” she continued (God, she never grew tired o
nce she started jabbering). “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a normal stick?”

  OK. What sort of answer was she expecting from me? I’d lost it now. I didn’t even get the question. Why would I not have ever had a normal stick? Was this code? Or did she assume I would know what she was talking about? She couldn’t have had anything to do with my FBI guy. She was too off the rails.

  She fumbled through her laptop bag and pulled out a big black-and-purple memory stick with a plastic cap on it.

  “Here! You see? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a USB stick before.”

  I was just about to give her a sarcastic reply about her being nuts and that I couldn’t understand what USB sticks had to do with anything . . . when it clicked.

  Lani had been awake for a few minutes and was showing a keen interest in this latest development. I picked up the little key and examined it closely. I studied it from every angle, and it was only then that I noticed a tiny black button. I pressed it, and out flipped a piece of metal—you know, the bit you stick into a computer.

  I almost lost my goddamn mind. I had something! I really had something here. This could be the missing link to everything.

  I gawked at the old dame’s laptop. She followed my eyes and then . . . it clicked for her too.

  “No! Don’t tell me you didn’t know what it was! Well, sure . . . Like I told you, I’ve been looking for one like that for ages!”