The lost symphony, p.36
The Lost Symphony, page 36
Dupree nodded.
‘I have to think about it, Claude.’
‘I understand, but don’t take too long. This wheel is turning very quickly.’
‘Do you really think she would hurt Jack?’
‘Without hesitation.’
62
Church of All Saints, Yekaterinburg: 6 March 2017
Anielka propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Jack lying next to her, sound asleep. After a while, she kissed him gently on the forehead. Jack opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘What time did you come to bed?’ asked Anielka.
‘Quite late.’
‘How did it go?’
‘I wrote everything down before I came to bed.’ Jack reached for his notebook on the bedside table and opened it. ‘When I think about it now, it seems like a dream, but the words here tell a different story.’
‘Would you like to talk about it?’
Jack closed his notebook on the bedside table and looked at Anielka. ‘Perhaps later. Today, I want to show you something quite extraordinary. Something very moving that is related to what I found out last night. I promised, remember?’
‘This is our last day, then?’
‘Yes. We are going home tomorrow. I think I’ve found out everything I can here. The rest is waiting somewhere else.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘I think so, but it won’t be easy.’
Anielka shook her head. ‘You and your stories, Jack,’ she said and ran her fingers playfully through his hair. ‘And your adventures.’
‘I did warn you.’
‘You did. Shall I order some breakfast?’ said Anielka, changing the subject.
‘Let’s do that. I’m starving!’
‘What’s new?’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Anielka, snuggling up to Jack in the back of the taxi. The morning traffic was heavy and progress slow. Dirty slush covered the busy streets of the bustling city that had become one of Russia’s most important economic centres after the Soviet era, giving it a gloomy, monotonous, Siberian winter look. Founded in 1723, Yekaterinburg was known as the ‘window to Asia’.
Jack pointed ahead. ‘It’s just over there.’
‘A church?’
‘Yes, but not just any church. This one has quite a story.’
‘You don’t say.’
‘The most extraordinary thing about this church is where it stands,’ continued Jack, undeterred, ‘and what it signifies. It’s all about a big wound, and healing.’
‘Oh? It looks new, but it’s quite beautiful with its golden domes, don’t you think?’
‘It is. It was consecrated in 2003 – eighty-five years after the former tsar and his family were murdered – to commemorate that horrific event. Here we are. Come, I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Its full name is the Church on Blood in Honour of All Saints Resplendent in the Russian Land,’ said Jack as they entered the church, crowded with visitors, many of them lighting candles and paying their respects at the altar.
‘What did you mean: “it’s all about a big wound and healing”?’ said Anielka as she looked around the imposing interior of the spacious church, decorated with elaborate mosaics, icons and paintings.
‘This church was erected where the infamous Ipatiev House used to stand. Tsar Nicholas, his wife Alexandra and their five children spent seventy-eight days imprisoned in that house before they were brutally murdered in its basement in the early hours of seventeen July 1918.’
‘How horrible.’
‘The house itself was demolished in 1977 and for a number of years the vacant site lay abandoned, until Nicholas and his family were canonised as Passion Bearers. After that, the Church decided to build a memorial in honour of the murdered Romanovs. Construction began in 2000.’
‘Amazing.’
‘Do you see that cross over there?’
Anielka nodded.
‘It marks the exact location where the Imperial family was killed. That’s the big wound I was talking about, but it’s slowly healing. Healing can only begin once you face the demons of the past, and this entire complex here is about just that.’
Jack walked over to the cross and stood in front of it, his head bowed in silence. He was contemplating the dramatic events of the night before, when he thought he could hear the solemn chanting of the Guardians in the background as the Seeker asked: ‘Do you believe in destiny, Mr Rogan?’
‘I do,’ whispered Jack. Perhaps it was foretold after all, he thought. And I am that stranger who will bring the holy icon back to Russia and find Alexandra’s Mat’ Rossiya. Without realising it, Jack was standing on the very spot Alexandra had died, her heart ripped apart by bullets, just before she could complete the sign of the cross with her shattered right hand.
While Jack stood in front of the cross, deep in thought, Anielka could feel her phone vibrating in her coat pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was a message from Zuzanna: Call me. Urgent!
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Anielka as they left the church.
‘Perhaps I have,’ said Jack, shaking his head. ‘Now, let me buy you some lunch. After all, it’s our last day.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘A classic Russian restaurant called Pashtet, which means pâté in Russian, the house speciality. A friend recommended it. Very popular. The interior looks like a Russian dacha. I made a reservation.’
As soon as they entered the busy restaurant, Anielka excused herself and went straight to the ladies to call Zuzanna.
‘You said it was urgent,’ said Anielka. ‘I called as soon as I could.’
‘Where are you?’
‘In a restaurant having lunch.’
‘Can you talk?’
‘Sure, I’m in the ladies. We are coming home tomorrow.’
‘I know. That’s why I’m calling. Please listen carefully. This is important.’
‘Oh?’
‘The police have been to your flat and searched the place—’
‘Why?’ interrupted Anielka.
‘Not sure, but it sounds serious. Your landlord, Quasimodo, was taken in for questioning yesterday. You can’t come back to France; too dangerous,’ said Zuzanna, dropping the bombshell.
‘What do you mean? How—?’
‘Just listen to me! Frieda has taken care of everything. A man will meet you in your hotel tonight. His name is Aldar; he’s Russian. I’ll text you his number.’
‘Are you serious? What about Jack?’
‘You walk away and leave everything behind. Just bring your passport, phone, wallet, the stuff in your handbag. Nothing else. You got that?’
‘Sure, but—’
‘No buts, Anielka! This is serious! You must do exactly as I tell you, clear?’ You have to slip out of your room unnoticed and call Aldar. Tonight! He’ll meet you in the foyer.’
‘Yes, but where am I going; with that guy, I mean?’
‘He will take you out of Russia to a safe place. You can trust him. Frieda arranged it. We are depending on you! And one more thing. Copy Jack’s notes from yesterday before you leave. Understood?’
‘Sure. I’ll do that when he’s in the shower, as usual.’
‘Now go before you are missed. We’ll talk again once you are safely out of your hotel,’ said Zuzanna and hung up.
‘I’ve ordered pashtet, the speciality of the house, for an appetiser,’ said Jack as Anielka sat down next to him. ‘After that, we could try some pelmeni, dumplings filled with minced meat, a traditional Russian dish. The wine is passable,’ Jack prattled on. ‘Would you like some?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Anielka, her mind racing as she tried to get her head around what Zuzanna had just told her.
63
Kuragin chateau: 6 March 2017
Countess Kuragin was in the music room, drinking tea, when Dupree walked in, breathless and looking agitated. ‘I think we’ve had a breakthrough,’ he said.
‘We have? Tell me.’
‘Lapointe’s methods are paying off.’
‘In what way?’
‘He found a connection; a very telling one.’
‘Traditional methods carry the day? The plodder without imagination has found a bone?’ teased the countess.
‘It would appear so. It’s all about Alina’s landlord in Montmartre.’
‘Tell me.’
‘His name is Renee Duval, known in the Paris underworld as Quasimodo, a notorious forger who has done time in jail.’
‘And that is significant?’
‘By itself, perhaps not, but who he shared a cell with for several years certainly is.’
‘Who?’
‘Emile Fabron.’
‘The Ritz safebreaker murdered on the houseboat?’
‘The very same. Lapointe brought Duval in for questioning this morning. When he told him about Fabron’s murder and hinted that he could be next, and why, Quasimodo began to sing like a bird in the belfry of Notre Dame.’
‘And what was that song about?’
‘What do you think?’
‘The Black Widow?’ ventured the countess.
‘Very good. My hunch was right. The person who rented the flat for Alina was none other than Frieda Malenkova, the woman with Alina’s painting in her study whom Lapointe and I visited the other day.’
‘Extraordinary! Congratulations.’
‘There’s more. There’s another woman involved here. Duval doesn’t know her name, but from what he told us about her, she could be the woman who visited me when—’ Dupree paused and began to choke.
‘The fire?’ said the countess. ‘Le Fantôme?’
‘Yes. The same woman who blackmailed Adrienne. It’s all coming together.’
‘Seems that way.’
‘So, what’s next?’
‘We have to close the net. Slowly and carefully. Lapointe is very good at this, thorough and patient. He’s putting everything in place right now. But first, we must arrest Alina.’
The countess nodded. ‘Where’s Duval now?’
‘Still in custody being questioned. Lapointe wants to keep him there at least until we arrest Alina.’
‘I understand.’
‘Did you make that call?’ asked Dupree, watching the countess carefully.
‘I did. Just before you walked in.’
‘How did it go?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said the countess, looking troubled.
‘How come?’
‘He was devastated. I could feel his confusion and pain. At first, he refused to believe me. He insisted I must be mistaken and dismissed the allegations as absurd. But when I took him through the facts, the DNA, the irrefutable evidence, I think he came around ...’
‘You did tell him how crucial it was that he kept it to himself; not a word to Alina? No confrontation?’
‘I did.’
‘And you told him that she would be arrested as soon as she set foot in France?’
‘I did that, too. I also have his flight number. They are booked on an Aeroflot flight arriving tomorrow afternoon at Charles de Gaulle.’
‘How did he take that?’
‘As I said before, I don’t know.’ The countess pointed to Madame Petrova’s music box on the mantelpiece. ‘And to think it all began with this, and that letter you found. Extraordinary.’
‘It is. Ripples in a dangerous pond, and it’s far from over.’
‘I’m worried about Jack,’ said the countess.
‘Why?’
‘He sounded like ...’
‘What?’
‘A broken man. I could hear his pain, his crushing disappointment. Still can.’
‘I’m sorry, but—’
‘I know. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him.’
‘No! I’m sure you did the right thing, Katerina. Friendship demanded that.’
‘I suppose you are right, but what about love?’
‘What about it?’
‘Perhaps love demanded something else.’
‘What?’
‘Silence. In any event, it’s too late now. He knows; and who knows what he will do? Something like this is beyond reason. Emotions take over. I’ve seen that, and so have you.’
‘I have.’
‘Jack’s a very passionate man. Very sensitive and emotional when it comes to matters like this.’
‘I’ve noticed. Let’s hope they get on that plane tomorrow and we can arrest Alina, or should I say Anielka. She’s a lethal weapon. At least then, we can take care of Jack once the spell is broken.’
‘I have a bad feeling about this, Claude. I won’t sleep a wink tonight,’ said the countess.
‘Neither will I,’ said Dupree. ‘Let’s keep our fingers crossed.’
One hour later, Malenkova received a text message from Quasimodo. He was still in custody, but had been allowed to make one phone call.
Malenkova paled when she read the message. It consisted of only three words: Lapointe knows. Run!
64
Yekaterinburg: 6 March 2017
Jack sat by the hotel room window overlooking the foggy street below, and once again went over his notes from the day before. ‘I think we should stay in tonight,’ he said. ‘Early start tomorrow.’
‘Good idea,’ said Anielka, licking her lips. ‘I’m tired. It’s been a long day, but an interesting one. That church was amazing. Very moving.’
She looks preoccupied, thought Jack, trying desperately to come to terms with what the countess had told him on the phone earlier. Deep down, he still refused to believe it, but the facts, if true, were overwhelming. Could she really be that monster? Has she come along only to spy on me? I have to know! Then he thought of something he could do to find out.
Anielka sensed Jack’s unease and walked over to him. ‘You look troubled,’ she said and looked over his shoulder. ‘What’s wrong? Is it about yesterday? Your meeting with the abbot?’
‘No. As I told you, that went remarkably well. I would almost call it a breakthrough. I’m just trying to put it all together before my memory plays tricks on me.’ Jack pointed to the last few entries in his notebook. ‘If I’m right, then this could hold the key.’
‘The trip was worth it, then?’
‘Illuminating and eventful. In more ways than I could have possibly imagined.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Anielka, a little alarmed not by what Jack had just said, but by the way he looked at her when he said it.
Jack closed his notebook, put it on the table and turned to face Anielka. ‘That’s it for now,’ he said, ‘I’ll take a shower.’
Jack stood up and walked slowly to the bathroom. If what Katerina told me is true, then she won’t be able to resist, he thought, hoping desperately that he was wrong.
Instead of closing the bathroom door, Jack left it slightly ajar. He could just see his notebook on the table by the window. Then he turned on the water in the shower, returned to the door, and watched.
Anielka went to the dressing table by the bed and picked up her handbag. Turning around, she walked calmly over to the desk, put the bag on the chair and took out her phone. Then she opened Jack’s notebook and began to photograph the last few pages.
Jack gasped as the implications of what he was witnessing began to sink in. Powerful, mixed emotions welled up from somewhere deep within him, clawing at his heart. Disbelief, disappointment and betrayal were soon replaced by humiliation and anger for having allowed himself to be deceived by a callous killer.
Slowly, Jack opened the bathroom door and began to walk towards the desk, hoping in vain that what his eyes were telling him wasn’t true. As he came closer, Anielka could see a shadow moving out of the corner of her eye and turned around.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Jack, carefully watching Anielka. He saw the surprise on her face, and a flash of guilt and alarm in her wide-open eyes that could only mean one thing: she had been caught.
‘I’m just taking a picture of your last entries here,’ said Anielka, trying to sound casual as she was desperately searching for an explanation.
‘Why would you do that?’ said Jack, coming closer.
‘Because I want to understand what you are doing. I want to be part of it. When you talk to me about your work, I feel so stupid, so left out. I thought if I could read your notes on my phone, I could, you know ... understand. Don’t be cross, darling, I only—’
‘This doesn’t make sense! Please give me your phone,’ said Jack, steel in his voice.
He knows, thought Anielka. The shower was still running, yet here he was. Fully dressed. How could this have happened?
‘Please give me your phone,’ repeated Jack and held out his hand.
By now, Jack was standing directly in front of her. She could sense the seething anger in him, and see hurt and danger in his eyes. Feeling threatened and cornered, she had nowhere to go. Then Jack grabbed her wrist.
‘You are hurting me; let go!’ shouted Anielka.
‘Your phone. Give it to me!’ hissed Jack. ‘No more charades!’
Then something snapped in Anielka and the demons lurking inside her took over. She reached into her handbag with her free hand and searched for her knife. When she touched the cold steel and activated the opening mechanism of the deadly switchblade knife, she felt calmer and back in control. As Jack tightened his grip and kept squeezing her wrist, Anielka raised her hand holding the knife, and stabbed him in the chest.
Jack let go of her wrist and staggered backwards. ‘What have you done?’ he stammered. Then, pressing both hands against his chest, he fell to his knees and looked at Anielka, pain and disbelief contorting his face. Anielka stepped forward and was about to cut Jack’s throat to finish him off, when suddenly the demons began to retreat and all she could see was the accusing sadness in Jack’s eyes.
Anielka dropped the bloody knife, as long-forgotten feelings of remorse cast aside the demons whispering ‘kill, kill!’ For a few moments, Anielka stared at Jack lying on the floor, blood oozing out of his chest wound. Then she turned away and dialled the number Zuzanna had given her earlier.
