Part SEVEN
These woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
Chapter Thirty-nine
The next day dawned sunny but chilly.
We were back on the road. The sky above was a pale blue and speckled with tufts of white clouds. The imperial trees of Luxembourg’s forests stood at attention along the highway as if shepherding us toward Baroness Agathe’s castle.
It had been easy to find a map to the castle in a brochure of historic sites at the motel.
After showers and breakfast, we piled into the van. We were now headed north, driving along a winding road that cut its way through the dark, green-forested hills. Once in a while, we glimpsed a forgotten castle up on a hill, making me feel once again like we were traveling through the land of Sleeping Beauty. We drove in silence, admiring the magical landscape.
The day before, we’d booked ourselves into the motel for the night. The party at the castle didn’t start until Saturday evening and it was only an hour’s drive from where we were, but we didn’t want to go too early and give anyone the time to uncover our disguise. It also gave us ample time to rest before plunging into what might solve all our problems, or put us into deeper trouble.
The motel didn’t have a room large enough for all of us, so we doubled up. Tetyana and I took one room with two single beds, Win and Katy took another, and Luc had the luxury of having a room all to himself.
“Does she know you’re here?” I heard Tetyana say from her bed, as I tucked into mine on the other side of the room.
“Who?” I asked.
“This dragon woman.”
“She doesn’t.”
I wondered if they’d managed to find a substitute caterer for the charity ball. I’d left Toronto only a week ago, but it felt like an eternity had passed. Maybe they’ve blacklisted me now.
“To tell the truth,” I said, swallowing my worries, “she may not be too happy with me right now.”
“Is that right?” Tetyana’s voice had turned slightly cold.
“I left without telling her or her team. But I think she’ll understand after I tell her what happened.”
“Why did you leave? With a nice package of cash, too.”
“We worked for a bakery.” I paused. There was so much more to the story than I could tell her in one night. “At least we thought we did. But the owners were drug dealers, crooks.”
Tetyana was quiet.
“On my last day there, we learned they were planning to sell Katy and me off to a trafficker to make extra money.”
“To a brothel?” She hadn’t sound surprised by what I said, merely curious.
“This Indian man wanted to come to Canada, and I was supposed to be his bride so he’d get a marriage visa.” I shivered as these words left my mouth.
Tetyana didn’t respond for a while. I wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
“So we ran away,” I said. “That money is our money. Katy’s worked for them for years and I worked hard that year and brought a lot of clients. We ran that bakery and did all the work, but they barely paid us. They used us to cover their dirty work.”
“Thieves,” I heard Tetyana say from her bed, “thieves and murderers everywhere.”
I had to agree. I wanted to feel angry, even rage, at everything that had happened to me and some days I did. But most of the time, I just wished I had wings to fly across the ocean back to Goa to find Preeti.
“Hey, do they take Ukrainians in Canada?” Tetyana asked.
What an odd question. I turned her way. “I think Canada takes everyone. They’re really open.”
“Everyone?”
“Well, except maybe dictators, rapists, murderers, and con artists.” I stopped, wondering how true this was. Mrs. Rao, Franky, and Jose belonged to most of these categories, but they’d easily got into the country and did well for themselves. Very well. And they didn’t seem too worried about getting caught for helping others like them to get in. Maybe Canadians are okay with these sort of people coming in. Maybe they didn’t want to see the bad things happening right under their noses. Maybe they just didn’t care.
“Are there any Ukrainians over there?” Tetyana asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I had to think about that for a moment. “Perogies are really popular.”
“Ukrainian perogies?” Tetyana sat up in her bed. “In Canada?”
“It’s a national food, like maple syrup and beaver tails. It’s popular in the prairies and not that difficult to make, either.” I remembered the time I’d found a recipe in a local newspaper and made a batch to the delight of Mrs. Rao’s guests. Food. Now that was a topic I knew something about.
“Wow. Sounds like a dream place,” Tetyana said. “Do you think I can talk to this Dragon diplomat about going there with my brother?”
“We can ask her,” I said. “I’m sure she can tell you how to go about it.”
I had no idea how these things worked. I had got in illegally—smuggled in by a lying Franky to work as a slave for Mrs. Rao. This was partly why I was always checking over my shoulder. I didn’t know how many laws I’d broken without even knowing. How many years would they put me away, if they knew everything I’d gone through?
I looked over at Tetyana. She was lying back now, eyes closed, her face so soft and relaxed that I hardly recognized her.
I switched the bedside light off and sank my head into the pillow.
AFTER AN HOUR ON THE freeway, Luc turned the van into a narrow road that curved through a thicket of woods. We drove for about five minutes until we hit a dead end. I looked at my map. We’d arrived at our destination.
Luc switched off the engine and we peered through the windows.
I felt like I was in the middle of a Brothers Grimm fairy tale. In front of us loomed the stone castle, even more awe-inspiring in real life. From where we were, we could see the castle doors, large enough to allow a horse and a rider through. An ancient tower with a spiked black roof rose imposingly from the center. The turrets on either side looked like the perfect place for guardsmen to sit, waiting to lob arrows at intruders. Surrounding the grounds was a fortress of green trees.
Barring the road in front of us was an immense iron gate. Beyond this black gate lay a cobblestone driveway lined with old-fashioned lampposts, leading to the castle about five hundred meters ahead. This place was shrouded in magic—of the dark kind. I could feel it in my bones.
“Are you sure we want to do this?” Katy whispered.
“Who knows, we might even meet Count Dracula,” Tetyana said, with a wry smile.
“Perfect place for werewolves to hide,” Luc said, pointing to the woods in the back.
“What do we do now?” Win whispered.
I frowned at my map. Yes, what do we do now?
Everyone was depending on me for this part. Did I really think we could brazenly walk up to a castle? Let alone up to an important guest at a semi-royal party? Even if I do, what am I going to say? “Sorry I skipped out on your charity ball. Can you please help me get back to India, and while you’re at it, help my friends escape an evil gang, the one that’s in the news right now?”
In retrospect, and in broad daylight, my plan sounded positively moronic.
“Toot!”
We all jumped.
A delivery truck had just arrived behind us and was honking impatiently.
Luc started the van and backed us out of the driveway to let it through. The delivery truck moved closer to the gate and tooted loudly again. It took a few long honks from the truck driver for anything to happen. We watched in silence as the gates glided open, operated from someone inside the castle. The truck waited for the gates to open fully before rumbling in. I watched it drive in, my heart in my mouth.
“Luc!” I shouted, “Now!”
Luc swerved sharply behind the truck, and we
all swung against the door. I sighed in relief as we got through and the gates began to glide shut behind us.
“Follow the truck,” I whispered.
The truck rattled along the driveway, crossing in front of the castle and its palatial doors. Parked in the cul-de-sac in front were two limousines and a luxury black Mercedes SUV. We passed these and turned into the back of the building.
Here, two trucks just like the one we were following were parked. The truck we’d followed pulled into the end of the line and stopped. Luc parked right next to it and we waited.
Now what?
We were at the back of the castle. The service entrance wasn’t as beautiful as the doors up front, but it was busier back here. The back doors had been thrown open, and delivery men were bustling in and out.
A girl, about twelve years old, was playing hopscotch by herself near the doors. If I had to imagine what Alice in Wonderland might have looked like, it would have been her. With her sky-blue dress and petticoat, flat blue shoes, and a white band on her shoulder-length hair, she made the perfect Alice. It was midsummer so school must be out. She looked bored, I thought.
Two young men got out of the truck we’d just followed and began to unload sacks of potatoes. They didn’t seem to think it odd that a white cargo van filled with people had followed them. They went about their work quickly, only occasionally calling out to each other about something or the other.
One of the first trucks started its engine and drove out. Then, the second truck pulled out.
I had to think fast.
Very soon, once their work was done, all the trucks would leave and we’d be left alone, conspicuous, for anyone to see.
I was racking my brain when a young blonde woman marched out. She wore smart dress pants and a crisp white shirt and had her hair tied back in a ponytail. She marched over to the two men in the truck beside us and handed them an envelope. One of them took it with a slight bow. She nodded.
She was just about to return to the castle, when she noticed us. She frowned.
Oh no.
“She saw us!” Katy whispered.
“What do we do?” Luc asked.
“Act natural, everyone,” Tetyana said in a low voice.
The woman began to walk toward us, her brows furrowed.
I pulled down the window and leaned out.
“Hi!” I said, giving her my most brilliant smile. “How ya doin’?” I said, in my best American drawl.
Chapter Forty
“Vous êtes Americains?”
“Yes,” I nodded. For once, I was glad for the mistake. “Yes, Americans here.”
“Are you lost?” she asked in perfect English.
“No, we’re here to cater to the party this weekend.” I felt my face go warm and hoped she didn’t notice.
“Oh?” She looked baffled. Her eyes scanned our van and her face said, You came in that?
“We’re the dessert caterer for tonight,” I said. I was still smiling, but inside, I felt my stomach roll.
She shielded her eyes to get a better look at us. “But Monsieur Wilmar is already taking care of that.”
“We were invited privately by Ambassador Bouchard’s wife to cater for her afternoon tea.”
“Madame Bouchard?” She stood straighter. “I didn’t realize she had done that.” She pulled a phone from her pocket.
“The embassy made the preparations in advance. Did they not inform you?”
She swiped through her phone, her brows knitted, then shook her head. “No, I do not see anything, I’m afraid. What is the name of your company, please?”
“The Red-Heeled Rebels,” I said, trying not to stumble over the words.
“Red-Heeled—?” her frown deepened.
“Incorporated,” I added, quickly.
She looked down at her phone, muttering to herself. She looked back at me after a few tries and said, “I don’t see it in my schedule.”
“You’ll find it on your catering list. It’s on your website.”
She went back to her phone and gave a start as she saw it. I watched, my heart in my mouth. This was it. She was either going to let us in or call the police.
“They did not inform me of this.” She sounded annoyed. “But isn’t Madame Bouchard from the Canadian Embassy?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Yes, she is.”
“And you’re American?”
I gulped. She’s sharp. “We work very closely. It’s a new arrangement to cut costs. We help each other where needed, like in Luxembourg, Monaco, Liechtenstein—” I tried to recall the names of the smallest European countries but my memory had dried up.
Suddenly, I remembered the letter I carried with me. I pulled out my mini recipe book and plucked out the thank you note from the Diplomatic Dragon Lady printed on the Foreign Department’s official letterhead. I leaned out of the window and handed it to her.
“Here’s my reference letter,” I said. “I cater to all her parties in Toronto.”
She scrutinized the paper.
“You can also ask Madame Bouchard about me.”
She looked at me with a frown. “One does not just walk up to a guest with questions like that.” She sounded astounded I’d even propose such a thing.
“She’s nice. Doesn’t bite.”
She didn’t smile. “I presume you are Mademoiselle Asha?”
“Yes, that would be me.” Please don’t ask me for my passport.
“Thank you,” she said, handing the letter back to me. “Well then, please come inside. I’ll introduce you to Monsieur Wilmar.”
“Thank you,” I said, and pulled my head back in the van.
“Merci,” Luc whispered from the driver’s seat. “In French!”
I popped my head out again. “Merci, madame!”
The woman gave a slight nod of her head in acknowledgment and almost smiled. She turned around and strode crisply back toward the castle doors.
I let out a breath and wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt.
“Okay, let’s go inside and see if we can find the Diplomatic Drago....I mean Madame Bouchard.” Better not make that mistake again.
“Wait,” Luc said. “Are we all supposed to be American?” He pointed at his chest. “My accent doesn’t lie.”
“Me, too.” Win looked worried. “Maybe I’ll stay in the van with Luc.”
“No,” Tetyana said firmly. “We’re going to stick together, no matter what.”
“Just don’t say anything and you’ll be fine,” Katy said to Win.
“Katy and Asha,” Tetyana said. “You take the reins here, okay?”
I nodded. “I’ll be head chef. Katy’s my deputy chef, and the rest of you are helpers.”
“Great,” Luc said, with a smirk. “We’re cheap labor now?”
“Sous chefs,” I said.
“Best not to talk at all, you and me,” Tetyana said to Luc. “The girls can handle this.”
“I have a funny feeling this is not going to end well,” Luc said.
Ignoring him, Tetyana turned to me. “Some ground rules before we go in.”
“Sure.”
“First, everyone carry their passports at all times so if we have to leave, we make it out fast.”
“Will do,” I said.
“Yes,” Win said.
“I do that anyway,” Katy said.
Luc nodded.
Tetyana looked at Katy. “Second, be sure that money packet is safe at all times.”
Katy nodded, patting her breast pocket. “I watch it like a hawk.”
“Good.”
“Third.” Tetyana flipped open her jacket to show us the gun tucked into her belt. Then, she pulled up her right pant leg to show the second gun tucked into her brand-new boots. “If anyone needs help, I’ll be happy to use these. But you’ve got to stay close and listen to my instructions because that’s the only way I can guarantee your safety. Got it?”
We all nodded.
The security briefing now over, it w
as time to enter the castle.
“Okay then,” I said, opening the door and taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Shall we proceed, my merry band of American bakers?”
We climbed out of the van, smoothed our crumpled shirts and pants, and straightened each other’s collars. The little girl who looked like Alice in Wonderland stopped her game to stare at us with her mouth open.
Once we felt like everyone looked reasonably professional, we crossed the parking lot toward the castle doors. Katy and I walked up front, Luc and Win were in the middle, and Tetyana took the rear. Behind her, I caught a glimpse of the little girl trailing us. We walked through the doorway and stepped into a medieval corridor, lit with soft lighting. I smelled the warm comfort of the castle’s kitchen before we saw it.
At the end of the corridor was an enormous entranceway and in front of this stood a rotund, middle-aged man with a red nose and a mammoth mustache. On his head was a starch white chef hat, and on his face, an austere look. The blonde woman was standing next to him. The man looked us over like we were something the cat had dragged in, and gave the woman a look as if to say, Really?
The woman spoke first. She stretched her arm toward the man and said, “Monsieur Wilmar, executive chef of the castle.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Wilmar,” I said, with a wide smile. “Hi, I’m Asha from New York.”
Without a change in his expression, Monsieur Wilmar extended a bear-size paw toward me. I gave him my hand and immediately regretted it. “Ow!” I said, before I could stop myself, and pulled back my throbbing hand. I noticed a slight flicker in his eyes like he was pleased at my reaction.
“I am Chloe Schmidt, the head administrator here.” The woman gave me her hand. I extended mine gingerly, hoping she wasn’t a crusher too. “You may call me Chloe,” she said, “American style.” A trace of a smile appeared on her face for just a moment.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Chloe,” I said, subdued by Monsieur Wilmar’s presence.
I introduced the team one by one, trying to remember titles from what I’d read in Chef Pierre’s magazines. Mademoiselle Katy, chef patissier et sous chef. Mademoiselle Tetyana, chef de partie. Mademoiselle Win, commis chef. Monsieur Luc, sommelier.
The Girl Who Made Them Pay Page 20
