by Maggy Diak
18.
First I returned to Isabelle's flat to search it once again. I found nothing. I even started to look into trash bins but stopped when one of the neighbors told me they had been emptied two days ago. I walked the streets of St. Rémy, intently watching the buildings, trying to find out in which Isabelle and Otrin might be. I was imagining that Isabelle was secretly watching me from behind one of the curtains.
Tired, despondent and fed up with everything I stopped at a pub and ordered a cup of coffee. It was so warm outside in the garden that I had to take off my coat. It was quite unusual for March. But unusual was the whole winter. Too warm and without snow. Even in our country which is known for cold weather in winter. This weather was the constant discussion in all radio and television news as being unusual, as something that had never happened before. The blame was on environmental pollution. New laws to reduce greenhouse gas emissions were accepted. I must stress that I have nothing against such laws, they are necessary, but in relation to unusual weather conditions, I have my own theory. I know there have been unusual weather conditions since the Earth exists. In my opinion, the changes have always been due to the position of the planets and not to what we are doing on the Earth. Last winter, for example, was described as the coldest in the history of the Earth but after a while a meteorologist found out that there were winters like that in the past too, which confirmed my argument that climate changes are subject to a sort of cycling. They come around eventually.
Suddenly, a familiar language, spoken by two women at the table behind me, attracted my attention. It was my mother tongue! When you are so far from your homeland, your mother tongue reaches your ear like a gentle melody, it is like a caressing hand. I had to turn around. I was right. Two women were sitting at the table. One was older than me; she must have been over sixty, the other, a little younger and slimmer. The elder woman seemed somewhat familiar to me but, I was not able to remember where I had already seen her. She became aware of my looks and gave me a kind smile.
“Our compatriot, am I right?” she asked.
“It’s nice to hear our language so far from home,” I answered. “That’s true,” she agreed. “Have you been here long?”
“Two days,” I said and asked if I may join them.
“You are welcome,” she exclaimed. I took my cup and moved over to their table.
“That’s my friend Stana,” she said. “A Slovenian by birth, living in Paris.”
We shook hands.
“I came to visit her. I live in Ljubljana. By the way, I’m Marija.”
At that moment, I knew who I was talking to! To Marija Doval! The woman who had been travelling with Peter and who had presumably stolen his suitcase! I was shown a photo of her at the airport. According to J.E., she was one of the head terrorists in the net that he was after. I hardly stopped myself from bursting into laughter. This woman a terrorist? This small, plump, old, kindhearted woman? Impossible!
Nevertheless, a police officer has to be cautious, even though his logic tells him there is no need to be. I must admit there have been situations where all logic denounced. That is why I did not tell the women who I really was and why I was interested in them. What bothered me was why the women were in St. Rémy at exactly the same time as were Isabelle and Otrin!
“Have you already visited Saint-Paul’s mausoleum?” asked Marija.
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
“You must! “she exclaimed and continued enthusiastically: “It used to be a convent in old times, then it was sold to the state and a physician turned it into a mental hospital. Vincent Van Gogh was treated there.”
The mausoleum was only a few steps from where we were sitting. I could see the windows she was pointing to.
“He painted two of his most precious paintings there,” she continued. “You must go and see his two rooms that have been turned into a museum. It would be a shame to be here and not to see it! That wall over there, “she pointed to some stones, “was built in the 14th century. Moreover, the whole city was built on the remains of the Roman city of Glanum. You'll be surprised at the great number of archeological sites in this city!”
“Don't forget Caroline, the Princess of Monaco,” added Marija's friend. “She lives here too. I heard that Diana, the late Princess bought a house here as well!”
Their faces were shining with excitement, but I hardly listened to them. I was thinking how to find out what really interested me.
When they got up to leave, I hurriedly said:
“Do you, ladies, have any special plans for this afternoon? I … hm … I'd appreciate some help with the sights. I see your knowledge of …”
Regret showed on Marija's face when she answered: “Sir, we won't be here in the afternoon. We are going to Avignon to get our plane tickets.”
“Your plane tickets?”
“Yes. We will fly to Brussels tomorrow but we think it is safer if you take the tickets a day before the flight. That is why we are going to Avignon this afternoon.”
I walked them back to their hotel. On the way, I learned which bus to Avignon they were going to take. After we parted, I hurried to Maurice. I told him about Marija Doval.
“But are you sure about that?” he asked doubtfully. “Isn't such coincidence strange? I can't believe it!”
“You can't believe it!” I exclaimed angrily. “You believe in monsters from the space but you do not believe that you can meet a normal human being in St. Rémy? Well, get ready! We are going to Avingon!”
“To Avignon?”
“Yes, to Avignon!”
Waiting in our car, hidden behind some trees, we were watching some passengers and the two women board the bus. Then we tailed it. The airport Caumont was only about twenty kilometers away. I have never heard about it but it was familiar to Maurice.
“In the 14th century Avingon was the seat of the Papacy instead of Rome, “Maurice said. “And according to Professor, it will be again in the distant future after Vatican is destroyed.”
I gave no comment on this. I had other worries.
After the women got off the bus in Avignon, they disappeared inside the airport building. I would like to follow them but was afraid they might see me.
Maurice squinted at me. “What if they fooled you? What if they don’t fly tomorrow but are boarding the plane now, to escape us?”
He really got on my nerves. He said exactly what I was afraid of and did not want to admit to myself. I decided to go and see where they were, when I saw them coming out of the airport building. A sigh of relief escaped me. They went, deep in conversation, towards the center of the city.
I nearly threw Maurice out of the car, saying: “Go, follow them!”
Maurice looked at me surprised. “Me? What about you?”
“I have to find out if they really bought tickets to Brussels for tomorrow. I’ll catch up with you!”
After I showed my badge to the girl at the counter, she told me that the women had bought two tickets to Brussels for the next day.
Therefore, Marija was not lying to me. Upon reflection, I too bought two tickets. The same destination. The same plane. I demanded seats far away from the two women. The girl did not say anything, but I saw that she was tense, or maybe even scared.
“They did not commit any crime,” I said, I had to say something otherwise she might hit the panic button and my research would come to nothing, “however, they are going to take me to a person who knows some information I most need. And, miss, I must ask you for discretion, that is, do not to tell anyone of what I've told you and by all means, don’t try to warn the ladies. If you do, I’ll have to charge you of not obeying police orders.”
She nodded, her eyes glimmering with fear. I knew she would not dare to disobey my orders.
Outside it suddenly came to my mind, what if Otrin and Isabelle had escaped by plane? They could have taken a taxi to bring them here. It was near, only a few kilometers.
I hurried back to the frightened girl.
&nb
sp; She immediately looked at the list. I saw she didn’t dare say that passengers' names were confidential and that she should not reveal them.
“Yes,” she said. “Two days ago they took a flight to Brussels.”
I called Maurice.
“Where are the women?” I asked nervously.
“In a shop,” he said. “Looking at clothes.”
He told me where he was and a few minutes later, I joined him. The information astounded him.
“They flew to Brussels? But why?”
“Don’t ask me!” I yelled. “It seems after all J.E. was right! I made a fool of myself, defending Otrin! He is a terrorist! All of them are terrorists!”
I was afraid he’d skin me alive, so angry he became. I stepped back. “Isabelle is not! She might seem confused, well, she might be confused, she might have lied, but she is not a terrorist! Never! I don’t allow you to say that!”
“You are in no position to allow or disallow me anything!”
We looked daggers at each other. Then I said, trying to keep my voice calm: “Okay, then tell me what all of them were doing in St. Rémy and why all of them are now suddenly heading for Brussels?”
“How am I to know that? All I know is that Isabelle is not a terrorist!”
