When they had been children together, Hansel had thought this American idiom of speech was hilarious since brushing through someone while you were invisible was a way to alert someone in visible form to your presence—rather the opposite of ignoring them.
Martina solidified and walked to her room. She lasted three minutes before deciding she needed to hear what they were saying. The thing was, Matteo’s life was at stake. She wasn’t willing to leave any part of that to chance. She slipped into invisibility, an unseen spy eavesdropping on her brothers. Her conscience pricked at her—how many times had she berated Hansel for doing the same thing?
She told her conscience to take a time out.
Her brothers had remained in the main room, and their discussion had grown heated. She readied herself to come solid the moment either brother sounded ready to “find” her in her room. Georg was arguing that it didn’t matter if they promised to do one thing and then did another.
But she said only one of us would get the enzyme before meeting Fritz. She doesn’t trust us, said Hansel.
Georg replied. And I don’t trust her. But it doesn’t matter. So long as one of us is capable of coming solid without dying, that one can procure the medicine for the other.
Hansel disagreed: We don’t have another source. We’ve searched for months. This could be our only chance.
The two continued like this, back and forth for several minutes. At last Georg pointed out they only had two minutes remaining, so they’d better decide what they were doing.
I say, we tell her we won’t do it unless she give both of us the dose before we meet with Fritz, said Hansel. And she can take it or leave it.
She’ll leave it, said Georg.
Hansel grunted out a small laugh. Then I guess I’d better work on persuading her.
I’m going to get her. That was Georg. You can do the talking. My brain hurts from all this listening.
Swiftly, Martina solidified, sitting on the edge of her bed, looking at her clock.
She felt a wash of frigid air pass through her torso. That was Georg. Martina slipped into invisibility and drifted through her wall. And listened for five minutes while Hansel attempted to sweet-talk his way into her good graces. As he had discussed with Georg, he insisted on both of them receiving the medicine prior to meeting Fritz.
This was just as well, really. Neither of them was well enough to come solid without medication. This way, she would ensure both brothers were able to confer with Fritz, something Fritz had demanded. Perhaps this was better.
Swear on Mutti’s grave, said Martina, that you will both accompany me and not run off the moment I give you the cure.
They swore.
There’s a third vial of medicine, said Martina, hoping to gain leverage. It’s yours once we’re done.
It was 8:30 PM. Martina came solid and checked the tablet, looking for the directions she would need. The three were to travel to the zoo beside the airport, arriving at 10:00 PM. She vanished again.
It will be closed, said Hansel, who must have been looking over Martina’s shoulder.
I think that’s the point, replied Martina. No one there. So, who wants to go first with taking their medicine? Having said this, she solidified and began drawing the serum from the vial. Fritz wasn’t the only one to keep syringes in his pocket; Martina had grabbed two from work.
Hansel came solid, sinking immediately into a chair. He groaned. “Forgot … how bad … it felt.”
Expertly, Martina administered the intravenous injection. And then they waited. Before twenty minutes had passed, Hansel’s color had improved. He said the burning pain in his hands and feet was receding as well.
“Georg’s not well enough to sit,” said Hansel. “I think he should come solid lying on your carpet.”
Martina nodded. She wasn’t sure as to the hygienic qualities of her carpet, but it was only an injection, after all, not brain surgery.
A moment later, Georg appeared on the floor of the main room. Martina knelt at his side and administered his injection.
“Mon Dieu,” whispered Martina. “You look awful.”
His skin was not only pale, it was discolored and large bruise-y patches covered both arms. “Listen, I’m sorry I tried to withhold the enzyme from you. That was wrong.”
Georg grunted in acknowledgement.
It took longer for Georg to gain enough strength to sit up. Even then, he complained of light-headedness. Martina watched the clock anxiously. At 9:30, she called a taxi. They would arrive with only minutes to spare. But surely Fritz would wait if they were a few minutes late.
By 9:40, the three were in the back seat of a taxi together. The driver was running the air conditioning at full blast and refused to understand when Martina asked him repeatedly to turn it off.
They jostled through the quiet streets of Nice and along the Promenade des Anglais overlooking the Baie des Anges. The entrance to the zoo was just ahead.
“Remember, no one goes anywhere until I have Matteo safe,” said Martina. Silently, she added, please. Her heart was racing as she went over her plan. Allow Fritz to see the boys. Demand Matteo. Threaten Fritz with Hansel and Georg’s immediate invisible departure if Fritz didn’t hand Matteo over. Take Matteo in her arms and get him to invisible safety. It was a good plan. It would work because Fritz wouldn’t expect Martina to be able to vanish.
But when the taxi driver pulled up to the zoo entrance, several things happened in rapid succession and Martina hadn’t anticipated any of them.
Fritz materialized in the passenger front seat. He raised a small weapon.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
Martina looked down at her arm. A small dart had embedded itself into her forearm. She looked in alarm at Hansel and then Georg. The two had been similarly attacked by Fritz’s small tranquilizer gun. Her rage gathered itself and she grabbed Fritz by the shoulders in spite of his obvious advantage, being the only one with a weapon.
“What have you done?” she demanded.
30
FRIENDLY RELATIONS
Nice, France
Fritz shrugged loose from Martina’s grip.
“Beware, child,” he said, “lest I should lose my temper. I have more deadly preparations at hand than Neuroplex.”
“You injected us with Neuroplex?” asked Martina. She already knew the answer, but she tried to turn invisible anyway. Tried, and failed.
“I presume the question was merely rhetorical,” said Fritz. “Driver, take us to our next destination.”
The taxi driver nodded. Martina seethed. The driver was in Fritz’s employment.
“And turn off that blasted air conditioning,” said Fritz.
The chilled temperature made sense now. Fritz had not wished to be noticed whenever it was he had slipped inside their vehicle. In which case, why set the meeting at the zoo?
“Why have us come here if you were planning to take us somewhere else anyway?”
Fritz shook his head. “Martina, Martina. Do you forget all your father’s lessons so soon?” He adopted an almost sing-song tone. “When preparing to aid possibly hostile persons, make certain you control as many variables as possible.”
Martina shook her head. It was pointless asking Fritz anything. “You’re not trying to aid us,” she muttered under her breath.
Fritz turned his gaze to Hansel and Georg, who had remained silent thus far. Martina assumed they were trying with all their might to vanish.
“Boys,” said Fritz, “in spite of Martina’s … overreaction, you must know I am trying to aid you. I trust you are both feeling better now, after receiving your enzymatic remedies?”
Hansel nodded. Georg’s eyes narrowed.
“Those were … from you?” Georg asked Fritz.
“Of course. Didn’t your half-sister tell you?” Fritz turned to Martina. “Clever girl. Convince them you had procured it personally, to be of service. Hmm. There may be hope for you yet.”
Mar
tina spluttered. “They asked me to get it for them. Where or how I obtained the medicine is immaterial.” She could feel her face burning.
“Not to us,” murmured Hansel. “You should have told us.”
“Well, I didn’t,” snapped Martina. “I did what you asked, Dr. Gottlieb. Hansel and Georg are here for you to speak with. I kept my part of the bargain and now I want Matteo.”
Fritz sighed, a gentle sound from a man with nothing gentle about him. “Yes, my dear. I’m certain you do. Well, it doesn’t happen to suit me to release him to your waiting arms just now.”
“What? Why not? When?” demanded Martina.
“None of those things are up for discussion at present,” replied Fritz. He turned from her to her brothers. “Boys, I have a proposal. We last parted ways under … unfortunate circumstances. Believe me when I say that I very much regretted that parting.”
Martina snorted her disbelief.
“My dearest wish is for us to return to friendly relations. To that end, I developed a new treatment for your enzymatic deficiency. The medication I provided will supply your bodies with months of assistance instead of weeks of assistance. I don’t suppose Martina thought to mention this?”
The two shook their heads.
“There wasn’t time,” snapped Martina. “It wasn’t like I was trying to withhold the information.”
“Hmm,” intoned Fritz. The rise and fall suggested she was lying. “I have worked long on the formulation in the hope you, Hansel and Georg, would see this as a gesture of my interest in your … wellbeing.”
Fritz may have been hoping for thanks, but Hansel and Georg didn’t respond. Fritz cleared his throat and continued.
“I should like your assistance in acquiring something,” he said.
“We risked our lives to do that for you once,” said Georg. “I have no interest in risking my life to do so again.”
“This time, you will not be bargaining for the object I desire. You will merely need to enter a facility, after hours, and take it. Much easier.”
“The journal you wanted was destroyed.”
“Yes,” said Fritz. “So I understood. It is not one of my father’s journals I wish to secure this time, however.”
“What do you want?” asked Hansel.
“Hmm, do you know, I think I’d rather discuss that with the two of you alone,” said Fritz. “No offense, my dear Martina.”
She scowled and crossed her arms. “When they’ve got … whatever it is you want, will you release Matteo?”
Fritz’s eyes were cold as ice, his expression unreadable. “I will release him when I decide you have served your usefulness.”
“My usefulness? How else do you expect me to be useful to you?” Martina realized with a sinking heart that she would probably agree to do any number of distasteful things to get Matteo back.
“Do you know, I haven’t decided what use you might be,” said Fritz. “Ah, here we are.”
The driver swung to one side and Fritz held out a device that unlocked and opened a pair of wrought iron gates leading to a private drive.
“Don’t hurt Martina,” said Hansel. “You won’t find us very cooperative if you do.”
Idiot, thought Martina. Fritz would see the admission as ammunition, not heed it as a precaution. Hansel had just increased her personal jeopardy.
Georg said nothing. His eyes were fixed on his brother with an odd expression. Was he upset about the disclosure as well? Or was he about to say Fritz could do whatever he liked to Martina? She couldn’t tell.
Fritz’s expression following Hansel’s statement was easier to read. He smiled.
Hansel spoke again. He’d seen his error. “That is, Uncle, I would see it as a gesture of good faith if you were to allow Martina and her friend to leave without further … harm.”
“I’m certain you would,” replied Fritz.
His driver exited and began opening doors, indicating they should all get out of the car.
“And now,” continued Fritz, “if you would please follow our driver? I’ll be just behind you.”
There was a barely veiled threat in his last utterance. No doubt Fritz was armed to the teeth in case anyone decided they’d rather run than hear him out.
Although the mansion into which Fritz directed them was huge, a classic villain’s lair, Martina was left in a small room—more of a cell, really, with one tiny window high on the wall, a single chair in one corner, and no light fixture.
Well, the lack of cot or blanket was a good thing. Those items would have indicated her stay was more likely to be an extended one. But then her eyes fell on the bucket. An exact copy of the ones the children had used in compounds without indoor plumbing. Her stay was not meant to be a brief one. She clenched her fists in frustration as the door closed and locked with her on the wrong side of it, leaving her alone in a dark room.
31
MOVEMENT OF THE STARS
Nice, France
Martina sank to the floor in the corner with neither door nor bucket nor chair. She fixed her eyes on the window. And cast about for something to think of—anything, anything other than her current despair, her fears for Matteo, her regrets for having left him in Sint Maarten without so much as a kind word. Tears sprang to her eyes. She hadn’t even returned his au revoir. And then she’d wasted the precious minute of conversation Fritz had allowed. She’d asked Matteo about what he’d eaten. Of all the things she could have said or asked: Is he feeding you?
She pressed the heel of her hands to her eyes, holding the tears back. She should never have agreed to Fritz’s demands. She should have vanished as soon as he had turned invisible after their initial conversation in her apartment. She could have listened for him, could have followed him, could have found Matteo and brought him to invisible safety. Her head collapsed and she shook with silent tears, remembering the warmth of Matteo’s kisses, the feel of his arms as he pressed her close.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Why had she departed the island with Pfeffer, leaving Matteo behind? If she wanted to put an end to Matteo’s drug-running, why not invite him to accompany her and Pfeffer? She’d mismanaged everything. Everything. And now she couldn’t even vanish herself out of a room because she hadn’t had the sense to suspect Fritz would jab them with Neuroplex.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.
She could have consulted Pfeffer. He’d been there, in her apartment, asking if there was anything he could do for her.
And she’d said no.
Pfeffer would have helped. That was as plain as the tears sliding down her face. She had been trusting the wrong people. How could she have believed Fritz would keep his word and release Matteo? As for her half-brothers: they had showed no interest in helping her free Matteo. They’d only agreed to help once she’d threatened to withhold the cure they needed.
And even if Hansel had requested Fritz not harm her, that was no guarantee he would side with her if it came down to it. Fritz had more to offer. Hansel, and even more so Georg, had always been shrewd in their transactions.
Why hadn’t she asked Pfeffer for help?
Her feelings of distrust for Pfeffer paraded themselves before her. Pfeffer wanted to control her. Because individuals who could vanish at will were dangerous.
Was Pfeffer right? Her brothers had left to follow Fritz because they weren’t willing to receive the doses of Neuroprine, didn’t like living under someone’s control. Well, she didn’t like it either. And yet, rather than asking to have the Neuroprine discontinued, she’d tricked Pfeffer the last time he came for her dosing. Did that prove Pfeffer’s point? That she was dangerous?
Maybe. Or maybe it proved nothing. It proved Martina didn’t want to be controlled any more than her brothers did.
He had tried to control her. And that was wrong. But she’d never even debated the point with him. She should have told Pfeffer. She should have argued for her right to self-determination. Instead, she’d kept secrets and harbored resentment and walled
herself off from the friendship Pfeffer had tried to extend. Her feelings of distrust were shadowy, vague—wisps that trailed away to nothing.
From what she had seen of him this past week, it looked like he would be the sort of person who was open to persuasion. What had he done when she’d demanded to visit Mutti? Had he refused? Insisted he be allowed to accompany her? No. He’d given her tickets and a passport, of all things.
He might be misguided in his desire to pump her full of Neuroprine, but his actions, his words, his intentions all spoke for him as a person who wanted to do what was kind, what was good, what was right. And she’d been too blind to see it.
She was an idiot.
And now she was an idiot locked in a room without the ability to turn invisible.
She tried to, just in case. Concentrated on the feeling of dissolving solidity.
It was no good. The Neuroplex worked perfectly.
Pfeffer had described its instantaneous action once, adding he didn’t like to use Neuroplex. He gave the Angel Corps members Neuroprine, a gentler drug, instead. Neuroplex, he said, when used repeatedly, would damage a caméléon’s ability to ripple. He’d explained that his own drug, Immutin—the one he’d offered to Friedrich and Günter in exchange for setting them up for life—had been developed after years of studying those harsher effects of Neuroplex.
Her eyes drifted slowly to the bucket in the corner. The one that looked just like the ones they’d been given for chamber pots when they were children living in a madman’s compound. She vowed she wouldn’t use it—wouldn’t give Fritz the satisfaction.
But she couldn’t stop looking at it. And as she did, she recalled they had used the same style of metal bucket to scoop grains for the animals they tended at some of the compounds. The fact that the same style of bucket had been provided for animals and children just underscored the fact that Helmann had seen them as a herd, a litter, his little animals.
Something inside Martina tripped and faltered. She would never be free of Helmann. It didn’t matter that he had been killed, had been stopped. He lurked in every corner of her memory, a ghost who would always haunt her. She shuddered. Her eyes were drawn again to the hateful bucket, reminder of her past.
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