"What's that Castle?" Alessandra asked, now wanting some information.
"It's a school. Fettes College. Private. Very expensive."
"That's a school?"
"Yep. And that other 'Castle' on the hill over there..." the Cabbie pointed. "Is another one. Daniel Stewart's and Melville College."
"Wow, it's beautiful..."
"Anyway, here we are," the driver broke her concentration, swinging the cab to her left and up an incline between some tall buildings. "This is the Western General Hospital. I'm dropping you off outside one of several cancer wards. I used to take my Aunt here a few years ago. The staff are very friendly. I suggest you make your way into the reception area and announce yourself at the desk. Explain what you want... if anyone's going to help you, it's the nurses and the doctors here. They're amazing!"
"Thank you," Alessandra replied. "And how is your Aunt now?"
"She passed away. Although they did their best, and made her as comfortable as possible, they couldn't help her..."
Stepping out of the taxi, she gave the cabbie a five pound tip. Hearing about the death of his aunt, it left her with an empty feeling inside. Why, she did not know. She had never met his aunt. Why should she care?
For a moment she stood outside the entrance to the hospital, not knowing exactly what to do next.
Coming here was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Perhaps slightly mad.
But now she was here...
A few people walked past her. Then another one, this time someone being pushed in a wheelchair.
She watched them pass.
Her senses were now alive. Alessandra was paying attention to every nerve in her body.
Wondering if, hoping... that perhaps she might feel something strange, a sensation, of some sort,... anything... as she got close to ... people who were ill. Sick. Dying.
She waited.
But there was nothing.
Nothing noticeable.
And no tingling in her fingers.
Some people were coming out of the large glass sliding doors.
Alessandra moved forward slightly, deliberately obstructing them a little and forcing them to make their way around her. It was rude, she knew, but she wanted to get as close as possible to the woman she had spotted with no hair, bald, obviously very ill.
As the woman passed by, aided and supported by a man, possibly her husband, Alessandra closed her eyes momentarily and focused on the sensation in her fingers.
Nothing.
The group were behind her now, and she was standing alone, facing the large glass doors which because she was so near, now refused to close.
Alessandra stepped inside.
To her left there was a cafeteria. In front of her, a large, round, blue desk manned by two nurses.
The reception area was busy, people walking in all directions, some wearing pyjamas, some in wheelchairs, some obviously relatives, visiting. A mixture of well, sick and dying.
She breathed out, exhaling loudly.
One of the nurses at the desk looked up at her.
Alessandra looked away, noticed a lift to her left, and stepped towards it.
She pressed the call button, and without looking back, stepped into it when it arrived.
Scanning the options inside, she randomly chose the second floor button, and was relieved when the doors behind her closed.
Alessandra felt nervous. There was no sign of the 'Gift'... but her heart beat was raised, and she was on edge.
The doors opened.
She stepped outside.
A blue line on the floor drew her attention.
It seemed important.
She followed it.
The line took up a position of prominence in the middle of the corridor which turned to her left, and then carried on in front of her for at least another fifty metres.
A long corridor, with lots of signs hanging from the ceiling pointing off in different directions.
Some people were coming towards her. Two doctors in white coats. A nurse.
Conscious of just standing there, looking like an idiot, she started walking.
Staring up at the signs above her, she saw that they were covered with references to types of medicine and areas of medical speciality. What on earth they meant, she didn't know.
Passing the oncoming group of doctors, two words in simple English attracted her: "Consultation Rooms".
Following the direction of the sign which pointed to her left she saw a large room, edged with several rows of seats around the wall. A number of blue doors were inset into the walls, and a small desk manned by a nurse was on her right.
The room was full of people.
Without further thought she stepped into the room, saw an empty seat in the corner and sat down.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
She could sense it now.
Even smell it.
Death was all around her. It hung in the air.
So thick, she could almost touch it.
-------------------
Alessandra was accustomed to waiting for death. Many a time she had lain in anticipation of the optimal moment to deliver it. And sitting there in the waiting area of the cancer consultation rooms, she recognised the aura of death's victims all around her.
She breathed in deeply, keeping her eyes tightly shut.
Her senses were alive, her mind alert.
She knew she was surrounded by illness.
Would the Gift come knocking?
Would her fingers start sparking with the gift of healing?
She could feel her fingers, her wrists, her hands, the tips of the fingers, the waft of air across her skin as someone walked past her and sat down beside her.
Her mind focused on her arms and hands and fingers, and the rest of her body blended in with the universe. Soon, only her hands and fingers existed.
Alessandra waited.
Primed.
Anticipating.
Expecting.
Hoping.
But nothing happened.
Pressing her head back against the wall and lifting her chin upwards, she relaxed her hands into her mental image of a Buddha, the tops of her thumb and middle fingers touching, her palms upwards.
Still nothing.
She screwed her eyes more closely shut.
"Are you okay?" a voice suddenly boomed beside her, catching her off-guard and causing her to almost jump out of her skin.
Her eyes flew open.
"Are you okay?" the voice of a woman sitting beside her asked. "Are you scared? Worried about seeing the doctor?"
Alessandra blinked and looked at her. Her voice seemed vaguely familiar.
"Oh, I'm sorry for disturbing you." The woman declared. "I could just see the worry and stress written all over your face. You looked so uncomfortable."
"No..., I'm okay." Alessandra replied.
"Well, I'm not. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm scared stupid."
The woman looked away from her, and stared into space, breaking off the intimacy of the contact and her open declaration.
"Are you waiting to see one of the consultants?"
The woman smiled.
"Are you?" she threw the question back at Alessandra.
"I... I can't talk about it just now..." Alessandra replied, semi-truthfully.
"We're all scared. Me probably more than most. I'm a coward. I've been given another appointment for Monday. I didn't make the other one. I couldn't face the consultant. I sat here for an hour then just went home."
"Monday? But today's Friday. Why are you here now?"
"I've been coming here every day, and just sitting here. Thinking. Trying to pluck up the courage."
Alessandra turned in her seat towards her.
She could see the fear in her face.
Her pupils were tiny pinpricks. Her face white.
Alessandra felt an overwhelming urge to reach out to her. She touched her gently on her hand.
"It was a mistake for me to come here," Alessandra replied. "I want to leave. Can I buy you a coffee somewhere else? Would you like to talk?"
The woman turned to her, her face blank. She feigned a smile. A small smile. Weak. Ineffective.
She nodded.
"Good. Then let's go. There's a café downstairs. We could go there."
They stood up, and there was a moment of nervous embarrassment when they both looked at each other.
"Come on, time to escape..." Alessandra declared, and gently slipped her arm through the woman's.
It was forward of her, but at that moment, it was subconsciously acceptable.
"It's not quite the yellow brick road, but I think we just follow this blue line?" Alessandra joked, breaking the ice.
They followed the blue line back through the maze of corridors and caught the lift to the ground floor. Finding a table in the café, Alessandra fetched a couple of coffees and some scones, and then joined the woman at their seats in the corner, away from the rest of the cafe's visitors.
They sat and stared at their drinks for a while, neither in a rush to speak. Alessandra looked out of the large glass windows which flooded the café with light from the outside. The land of the living.
When she turned back, the other woman was looking at her. The woman smiled. A soft, gentle smile.
"I'm sorry. I think we're both scared. Probably everyone here is scared. How can we not be?" she said.
Alessandra simply nodded.
"Some of us will survive," the woman continued. "Others won't. Is it a lottery? Or is it more than that?"
"I wish I knew."
"Me too."
"What..., why....?" Alessandra started to ask.
"What have I got? What am I dying of?" the woman replied, finishing her question off for her.
"Yes... sorry... maybe I don't have the right to ask."
"No. It's okay. Perhaps it might actually be good for me to talk about it. Just to say its name. Publicly. Just to mention it to someone else apart from a doctor and a mirror."
Alessandra glanced at the ring on the woman's finger.
"Have you not told your husband?"
"What husband? I haven't seen him since I was diagnosed."
"What?" Alessandra exclaimed angrily. "I would like to say you're probably better off without him, but at a time like this, I don't know if that's true."
"It's okay. He's not that bad. But I haven't told him yet..."
Alessandra raised her eyebrows.
"He's away on business, and I don't want to call him to tell him over the phone. 'Hi, I'm dying. I've just got months to live.'"
Alessandra swallowed hard, and couldn't help but reach across the space between them and gently take the woman's hand in hers. As she did so, she felt a slight tingle in her fingers. Not very strong, but noticeable, and the sensation registered with Alessandra. It was like the tiniest of sparks jumping between them. Whether it was from the woman to Alessandra or vice versa, she wasn't able to tell.
"Months?"
"Yes. Breast cancer. Quite advanced."
"I'm so sorry..."
"There's a slight chance, apparently. Not much. But there is one. If I undergo the full treatment soon."
"What's stopping you?"
"It's not that simple..."
The woman looked away, pulling her hand gently away from Alessandra and lifting it to her mouth, turning her head to look out of the window.
Alessandra said nothing.
The woman wiped a few tears away from her eyes, then feigned another smile and faced Alessandra again.
"I'm sorry. I'm so scared..."she said quietly. "But it's good to talk to you about this... I've kept it all so bottled up. I need to face it. That's why I'm here. I have to make a major decision very soon, and I just can't do it alone... Yet."
"Can I help you make it?"
The woman bit her lip, and nodded very slightly, but more as a way of indicating that she was thinking about it, and not as any form of agreement.
"Would it be okay for me to ask your name?" she asked Alessandra. "Or is that too intimate... too real. Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than to someone you know..."
"Karen. My name is Karen." Alessandra replied slowly, then shook her head. "No, actually, that's not true. It's not Karen. But..."
"Karen, is good. I just want a name. Any name. If you don't want to give me your real name, it's fine."
The woman laughed, the spontaneity of it catching Alessandra by surprise.
"And I'm Amelia. You can call me Amelia. It's not my real name either, but now we can tell each other anything we want, and neither of us will be revealing anything at all!"
Alessandra said the name aloud.
"Amelia. It's a good name. Like Amelia Earhart. She was the first woman pilot to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean."
"I know. That's why I thought of it. She flew above the clouds, in the bright blue sky, leaving all her troubles behind. That's who I'm going to be from now on. Amelia!"
"So... Amelia... why won't you start your treatment? You know you really must..., and as soon as possible."
"It's not just me it will affect. It's more complicated than that."
"Why? Is there someone else apart from your husband?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"My unborn baby. I'm pregnant."
Chapter 35
Edinburgh
Edinburgh Castle
Friday 1.10 p.m.
Copernicus stood resting his hands against the wall of the castle, looking out across the city centre over eighty metres directly beneath him.
Peering over the edge of the battlements and staring straight down, he felt quite giddy. He quickly pulled himself back.
He was a brave man, but exposing himself to height was one thing that made him feel scared.
It was irrational, he knew, but he'd long ago accepted that there was little he could do about it.
He'd taken the tour of the castle, and now he stood on the edge of the crowd surrounding the One O'Clock Gun, a large, operational 105mm field gun which the soldiers in the Castle fired every day at 1 p.m. to please the locals and scare the shit out of new tourists walking below the Castle in Princes Street.
Standing so close to the gun as it was fired, even Copernicus had to admit that it was impressive. And if he hadn't been warned that it was happening and that he should expect it, a heart-attack would not have been out of the question.
As told by the tourist guide, it was a long-standing tradition established over a hundred-and-fifty years ago which allowed ships in the Firth of Forth, the large river skirting Edinburgh, to set the maritime clocks they needed to navigate the world’s oceans.
Quaint.
Turning back away from the sheer drop on the other side of the Castle Walls, he looked around for signs directing him back to the exhibition showing the Crown Jewels of Scotland.
Copernicus loved that sort of stuff.
He'd once seen the Crown Jewels in England. Why not see the Crown Jewels here too?
His phone beeped and buzzed in his pocket.
Copernicus pulled it out and flicked it open.
An email had arrived.
Looking around him and moving away from the nearest bystanders, he typed in the long security code and went to his messages.
It was a text from his secure server alerting him to the fact that an email had arrived in his secure account from the alias of Colonel Zhirov.
Copernicus couldn't read the email. He knew better than to communicate or view anything of importance via his mobile. The text he'd received was purely an automatic alert that told him something had arrived in his secure email account which he would only ever access via Tor from his secure laptop.
It meant that the Crown Jewels would have to wait.
Whatever Colonel Zhirov had just sent him was far more important.
Hurrying past a group of squealing children, he followed the signs to the large wooden Cas
tle gates at the entrance, crossed the old bridge above the Castle Moat and emerged out into the Old Town at the top of the Royal Mile.
Two minutes later he saw a taxi, hailed it, and jumped in.
Copernicus was excited.
Anything that Zhirov sent him now would be significant.
With any luck, the SVR or the FSB had tracked down McKenzie and had sent information on his location.
Which meant, that if he moved fast enough, McKenzie would lead Copernicus to Salvador.
Sitting in the back seat of the black-cab, Copernicus grinned.
It had been a while since he'd actually derived pleasure from killing someone.
However, the thought of killing Salvador almost turned him on.
He couldn't wait.
-------------------
Western General Hospital
Edinburgh.
1.35 a.m.
Alessandra was surprised by her own reaction to Amelia's news. The implication was clear by the way she had uttered the words. The treatment to cure the cancer would kill the baby.
For some strange reason, the thought of this woman losing her child - a woman she had just met - really affected her.
A mother losing her baby.
A child never getting to know its mother.
She felt the tears well up behind her own eyes, and as she leant forward and took both Amelia's hands in her own, they spilled forth and coursed their way down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry..."
-------------------
The server behind the counter in the café saw the two women at the corner table crying together.
It wasn't an unusual sight.
She saw such things every day.
Her café was always full of emotional extremes. Laughter, anger and sorrow were commonplace. She had become immune to it all.
And it was not her place to provide counselling.
She just made the tea. Served coffee and cakes. And cleaned the cups.
Ignoring their obvious distress, she attended to the next customer.
The Assassin's Gift Page 34