She turned to Theo and saw his faced lined with worry. Clearly his actions were speaking for him now. He had come all this way to confide in her. Now she decided to do the same.
“Have you read the manuscript?” she asked him point-blank.
“Yes.” His eyes said more than that. Semele could tell he had read it many times.
“Did you know my name was in it? That it was meant for me?”
“Yes,” he said, searching her face. “There was a risk letting you take it back to New York, but the manuscript is yours. It’s always been yours.”
“But you were going to sell it.”
Theo shook his head. “I was planning to pull it from the auction. I was trying to give you time to read it. The theft changed everything.”
“Your father left me a note inside it.” She could see the shock on his face. So Theo hadn’t known.
She began to pace as the words spilled out of her. “I made a copy in secret. The night before I flew home, someone broke into my hotel and found the file. Then a man followed me back to New York.” She turned to him. “I saw him at the library the exact moment Ionna warned me. It was like she knew, she saw me, and now…” She fought to retain control.
“Have you read it all?” Theo asked, taking a step toward her.
“Everything but the missing pages. You took them out, didn’t you?”
“I had to,” he admitted.
Semele stared at him in disbelief, unable to stop herself from erupting. “Why? It’s a priceless manuscript!” She waved her hands around and yelled, “You don’t just take a surgical knife to two-thousand-year-old parchment!”
“I had to!” Theo raised his voice too, matching her passion. “I couldn’t risk anyone else reading those pages but you.” He tried to explain. “I was planning to give you the rest before the auction. I wanted to give you time to come to terms with what Ionna had written. But I can see now that wasn’t the best course.” He rubbed his eyes, clearly tortured.
Just hearing him say Ionna’s name, as if he knew her, made Semele’s anger dissipate. She sat down on the couch and tried to calm down. “Your father gave my father a copy of the manuscript.”
He appeared momentarily stunned. It seemed Marcel had kept secrets too.
“My father translated it.” She pulled out Joseph’s copy from her purse and showed it to him. “They were planning to meet the week he died.”
Theo digested the news. It was clear he hadn’t known. “I think it’s best if you read the rest of the pages first,” he said. “Then I’ll explain everything.”
Semele wondered what the pages contained that made him feel he had to defile the manuscript. She needed to tell him everything. “I have Ionna’s cards … had them,” she amended.
“You found the cards?” He looked taken aback.
“My grandmother left them for me. I gave them to a friend yesterday so he could examine them.” Her voice began to quiver, but she had to let him know. “He was in an accident last night and the cards were stolen. He…” She couldn’t go on.
Theo blanched at the news. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. The simple gesture was so thoughtful it made her cry more.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Should I go to the police?”
Theo seemed to be measuring his words. “I’m afraid these people are beyond the police.”
“Who?” A heady rush of fear hit her. “Who are they?”
Theo walked to the metal attaché case on the table. He unlocked both electronic locks, scanning his fingerprint on a built-in thumb-pad. The case clicked open and he took out a folder and handed it to her. “I’ll order up lunch and coffee while you read. The table is cleared for you in the den.”
He had prepared the table for her, which meant he had already planned to bring her up here. What else had Theo Bossard been planning?
Semele felt as though she were being whiplashed, unsure of anything except that she had to read the pages. Without a word she went into the den and shut the door.
Her eyes stung from exhaustion and she couldn’t fathom the idea of having to decipher more Greek, but sleep wasn’t an option. She ducked into the bathroom to wash her hands so she could handle the parchment. Then she sat down on the couch and opened the folder.
Touching the leaves of the original manuscript again revived her and helped to bring her thoughts into focus. She hadn’t read from the actual pages since she was in Switzerland.
Ionna’s handwriting leaped from the page; every brushstroke was a living memory in motion. Semele traced her finger over the symbols with a feather-light touch and imagined Ionna at her desk, writing this to her—because Semele knew that Ionna had written this to her. And why Theo felt these pages had to be protected above all else was a mystery she was about to solve.
She opened her father’s copy to the same page. He had translated Ionna’s story word for word, and she could feel him with her. She wasn’t sure she would have had the courage to know what happened to Nettie without him.
From Leningrad Nettie went to Gorky by train with other prisoners. She had special papers tagged to her coat like a package. Her final destination paralyzed her with fear. She heard murmurs among the officers that Germany had broken their treaty and invaded Russia. Gorky was the country’s military center. Why were they sending her there?
On the journey no one offered her food or water or a word of explanation. The other prisoners were too afraid to speak. There was a silent consensus among them: if everyone followed orders, this misunderstanding would be rectified and life could return to normal, because none of them deserved to be arrested.
At the train station in Gorky, a cluster of KGB and military personnel waited to take the prisoners that had been assigned to them. A KGB officer looked at Nettie’s papers and gave her a sharp appraisal. She moved to fall in line with the others, but he put a hand on her shoulder.
“Not you,” he said and led her to an army truck. He ordered her to climb into the back.
As the truck drove away, she could only see through a small slit of canvas. They crossed the Volga and headed down the riverbank through the open countryside. Nettie watched the sun set. The trip felt like an eternity, although they must have been driving less than two hours. They passed through a stone entryway with castlelike towers at the corners and into an enormous inner courtyard where the truck parked.
A soldier banged on the side of the car. “Out!”
Nettie parted the canvas and climbed down to find herself surrounded by clusters of old church buildings illuminated by industrial lighting. Soldiers scurried past in a den of activity. This old monastery had been converted into some kind of military complex. She saw rows of medical trucks parked next to a makeshift armory.
The driver led her to the nearest building. Rowdy songs and lewd jokes were coming from one of the rooms.
“Delivery.” The driver stood in the doorway.
Inside a group of officers was eating dinner. Bottles of vodka littered the table. Nettie hovered behind the driver, trying not to be seen.
“Oh, look, the dessert has come,” a drunken officer said, his glassy eyes fixed on her.
The driver waved the papers. “One of Evanoff’s. She’s off-limits.”
The officer gave Nettie a cool assessment. “Pity.” He turned to the most junior officer in the room. “You take her.”
The young man got up from the table and took the papers from the driver.
“Come on.” He led Nettie down an endless hallway and unlocked the last door, then motioned her inside.
Nettie stepped into the cell-like room. The door locked shut behind her. Inside it was nearly pitch black. Only a sliver of moonlight illuminated the shadows.
After a minute her eyes adjusted and she saw children sleeping on an assortment of old mattresses. There was no food or water, only a bucket in the far corner that seemed like it was being used as a toilet.
She made her way to the co
rner farthest from the door and curled into a ball on the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and tried not to think of her family, of her life that was forever gone.
For years she had prepared for this day, ever since her first vision. She had replayed what she saw over and over in her mind so she could withstand the reality of it when the time came. Now here she was, living it out.
A girl’s voice whispered in the dark. “You can share my mattress.”
Nettie squinted. She saw a figure sitting up two mattresses over and felt her way toward her in the dark. She found the girl and lay down beside her, relieved to be near someone who meant her no harm.
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
“I cried my first month here. There’s no shame,” the girl said.
Even so, Nettie vowed tonight would be the only time she would give in to her grief. She promised herself she would do what her grandmother said. Whatever happened, she must survive.
“My name’s Liliya. What’s yours?” the girl asked.
“Nettie,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Why have they brought you here?”
Nettie hesitated, unsure how to explain and too numb to try. “I’ve no idea,” she said instead. “Where are we?”
“Makaryev Monastery, but it’s not a monastery anymore. After they kicked the nuns out, this place became an orphanage for a few years. I came here then.”
“Why did they keep you here and not send you to another orphanage?”
“The experiments” was all Liliya said. “You’ll find out soon enough. We should sleep.” Before Liliya closed her eyes, she added, “Impress them and they’ll let you live.”
Nettie tried to sleep, but her mind couldn’t rest. She was already trying to feel her way into the future. She would have to give up her secrets, to expose her gift in order to stay alive.
She had already seen Dr. Evanoff many times in her visions. He would stand before her tomorrow, giving her sweets to gain her trust. Soon he would take a keen and singular interest in her.
* * *
The next morning sunlight forced its way through the grime-covered windows. Nettie opened her eyes and met her fellow cellmates, all raggedy children with gazes that ranged from inquisitive to dull and apathetic. There were twelve of them. Liliya was the oldest, maybe sixteen or seventeen, and the youngest no older than five. Her tattered gown and shaved head made her look like a doll that had been stripped bare and forgotten.
The doors opened and a guard placed thirteen bowls inside, each with a piece of black bread, and thirteen cups of coffee. Liliya passed them out to the children who sat, surprisingly docile. Or perhaps they were just too weak to stand. Liliya handed Nettie her bowl.
“We get a boiled potato for dinner.”
Nettie ate the bread and drank the tarlike coffee. She wished for water, but at least it was liquid. An hour later the young officer opened the door. It was the same man who’d escorted her to the room last night. He seemed to steel himself to appear authoritative.
He motioned to Nettie. “You. The new one.”
Nettie stood to follow him, then looked back to Liliya for support.
“Impress them,” Liliya reminded her softly.
The officer led her down the hallway and up the stairs. “You’ll be meeting Dr. Evanoff today,” he told her, as if that somehow made her captivity more tolerable.
Nettie didn’t answer, but she knew this man from her visions too. His name was Lev.
Their footsteps echoed as he led them past a stretch of abandoned rooms, as if even God had turned his eye from this place. They stopped at an imposing door. Lev knocked twice, and a nurse in a crisp uniform stepped out.
“I brought the new one,” Lev said.
The nurse’s eyes raked Nettie up and down. “Good. That will be all,” she said in a clipped tone and moved aside for Nettie to enter. “Come, girl.”
Nettie fought to keep her panic from rising. Her grandmother always used to tell her that no matter what happened, no one could ever break her spirit. “Pity your enemy,” Kezia would say, “for hating him will bring only hatred in return.” She would put her hands on Nettie’s cheeks and look directly into her eyes. “And you know too much to hate.”
Nettie held on to her grandmother’s wisdom and carried it with her into the room.
The enormous space was once a gathering hall but had now been converted into a medical clinic. The nurse led her through a maze of partitions. Nettie spotted an operating table with surgical equipment to her left, and on the right, an unusual-looking dentist’s chair with limb restraints and an overhead light attached.
The last partition had been sectioned into an office. Bookshelves lined the entire back wall. A row of wooden filing cabinets took up one side, and the other had a small table.
“Welcome, Nadenka,” Dr. Evanoff said, calling her by her birth name. He stood up from the reading desk in the corner. He was wearing a doctor’s robe with stains all over it, and his wild black hair sat like a crow’s nest atop his thin frame. His eyes flared with excitement behind black-rimmed spectacles as he studied his newest ward.
“Turn around,” he instructed, motioning his finger like a puppeteer.
Nettie did as she was told.
The nurse sniffed. “I’ll get her a patient’s robe.”
Nettie looked down at her dress. It was the only thing left from her life before. Her mother had made it and she didn’t want to take it off, but she was too terrified to speak.
“Come. Sit.” Evanoff motioned to the chair near his desk.
Nettie passed by an open bowl of sweet pastilles and raspberry lollies perched on the corner of the table, and her mouth watered.
“Would you like one?” He held the bowl out.
She nodded and took one. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Manners. Good.” He sat down across from her and waited while she sucked on the candy.
Nettie’s eyes kept straying toward his, but then she would catch herself and look away. She could sense the threat behind the doctor’s penetrating stare and soft-spoken voice.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked.
“An old monastery?”
He gave her a patronizing smile. “This is now part of a military research center, a very secret one. Do you know about secrets?” She nodded and he leaned forward, dropping his veneer of civility. “You are never to speak to anyone, not even the guards, about what goes on in here, or you will be punished.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Have you heard of psychic energy?” He started to pace, not expecting an answer. “It is the hidden force in the world, a force that the human mind can harness.” He stressed his next words, rapping his hand on his desk with each one. “Equal. In. Importance. To. Atomic. Energy.” He resumed his pacing. “With this force we can control the body and the mind, achieve telepathic or telekinetic power. See the past and the future.”
He pivoted to her. “Few people are born with the ability to access the source—and those who can are most capable in childhood. You are one of my children now, yes?” He picked up the candy bowl and offered her another.
Nettie nodded, knowing she could do nothing but acquiesce. She took a candy, feeling sick to her stomach.
“Mathematicians deal with space, physicists deal with atoms, and I study the connection between the two, the human psyche.”
He bent forward, as if to retrieve something, and what he pulled from his desk drawer made her entire body lurch. He had her grandmother’s cards.
“These cards are quite interesting. I’ve been told that you use them. Yes?”
Nettie nodded again, unable to speak.
“I’m fascinated with any system of divination that helps us transcend the mind. Tarot cards, the I Ching, runes … they are all codes and we are the code breakers.” He picked out a random card from the deck, The Emperor, and smiled. He obviously thought the card represented him. He showed it to Nettie to prove his po
int. He was the one in control.
“All symbols have power. They are the doorways that enable us to see beyond the illusion of time.” He looked through each card as he spoke. “Predicting the future is a wondrous thing. Nature has its irreversible processes—an egg cracks and it is broken—which makes time seem to point only in one direction, ahead. While in fact, outside the physical laws of gravity and thermodynamics, time does not move at all.”
Nettie forced herself to look away from the cards. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how much she wanted them.
“We have already discovered that quantum physics is predictive. On the subatomic level, effect can happen before cause.” He placed the cards on the edge of his desk, as if extending an invitation. “People who see the future can engage their minds at the quantum level. What I want to know is how. How do you do it?” He motioned to the cards, offering them to her. “By helping me in my studies, you will avoid the gulag. Your family has not been so lucky. Yes?”
With shaky hands, Nettie reached out and took the cards. An immediate feeling of calm washed over her when she held them, as if her grandmother were there, and Nettie felt like she could breathe again. Fighting back the tears pooling in her eyes, she held the cards in her lap like a schoolgirl sitting at attention. She had to figure out how to keep the cards. She couldn’t give them back.
The nurse entered with a tray. Evanoff picked up a large syringe and smiled. “You can keep your gypsy cards. They do not matter to me. What matters is the precious sight they inspire.” He came toward her. “We must find out all about it.”
Nettie quivered with terror. “Please,” she whimpered.
“Hold still or it will hurt worse.”
She watched the needle go into her arm. What scared her most wasn’t the drug, but the fact he looked at her as if she weren’t human.
For more than three years life was hopeless.
Every day the walls closed in tighter and the light grew dimmer. The children who shared the room with Nettie were all test subjects tethered together for the same reason. Like many scientists across Europe, Dr. Evanoff was attempting to grasp the para sciences—telekinesis, telepathy, precognition, and mediumship—in an effort to win the war. They were all mad dogs chasing the scent of something divine, because in this day, it seemed like nothing was.
The Fortune Teller Page 23
