by A. D. Winch
Half-way down the square, Ursula felt Eric’s presence become stronger. Beside a shop selling crystal, she walked into a wide passageway. Next to a milliners, full to the brim with expensive ladies’ hats, Ursula stopped and lifted her head. As she looked she saw a shop packed with stamps and, nearby, the silhouettes of two men in the passageway’s entrance.
They began to walk toward them and came into the light. Both were in black leather, similar to Andrea, and both were still wearing their black helmets.
“I’m sorry Andrea; I can’t do this,” Ursula said and dropped her head again.
Andrea did not reply. She put her arm around Ursula and led her away from the two men, past the sealed up entrance to Kino Alfa and out of the passageway’s far exit.
“You look as if you’ve had a turn. What is it?” asked Dr. Johansen with concern in his voice.
Eric had turned pale, and it took him a while to reply, “A warning.”
“A warning! What kind of warning? There’s no one here.”
Eric explained and pointed to his head as he did so, “I sometimes know what Ursula is thinking. She’s afraid.”
This answer did not help Dr. Johansen feel any less confused and asked, “Who is Ursula?”
“She’s my Parent’s Pet Project. They published a puzzle in the world’s newspapers that was meant to be difficult, but I didn’t think so. She solved it and left Paris to join me in Prague. She claimed that she did it in less time than me, but I don’t believe her.”
Dr. Johansen leant back on his seat and pulled his fingers to his mouth. His face was pained, and he began to bite his nails again while staring straight through Eric.
Removing his fingers briefly from his mouth, he asked, “This Ursula whom you talk about. If I were to meet her, I imagine I would find someone who is about your age, possibly a very close birthday and… the same skin colour as you?”
“No,” replied Eric. “I think her family were originally from Africa.”
The seat creaked as Dr. Johansen flung himself back into it. His teeth were chattering over his fingernails like a typewriter. He looked consumed by worry and almost desperate. Suddenly, his apparent stress disappeared, and he stood up purposefully.
“Unfortunately, like attracts like and fate has conspired against us. It will only be a matter of time before others see the connection. We need to get back into your villa without being seen. Pick up your things. It is time to leave.”
Dr. Johansen drove his black Chrysler into a street far away from Eric’s villa. The road was empty of people but so full of parked cars that they could not find a parking space. By the time they found one, it was way past midnight but at least they knew they had not been followed.
The night was very dark. Heavy clouds blocked out the moon and the stars. Apart from the rumble of the occasional train the area was silent.
“Is there a way into your villa that cunningly avoids going through the front door?” asked Dr. Johansen.
Without answering the question, he walked off and Dr. Johansen followed him. They stepped onto the cobbled pavement and freezing puddles left by melting snow. Looking around himself, Eric tried to work out where he was. He knew that the buildings looking down on them were all over one hundred years old. Some had towers; others had gables, but none were identical. Eric was not sure where he was until he saw a small square, with a lonely tree, at the top of the road. His eyes flitted between Eric and dark corners where somebody could easily hide. If Eric wanted to escape this would be the perfect time, but he didn’t. His kidnapper now wanted to break into the Meyer villa to see Ursula and, though he wouldn’t admit it, breaking into his own home fascinated him. At a large gate under an unstable looking arch, Eric stopped.
“Behind here is a park,” said Eric, his breath visible in the cold night. “If we get into the park we can make our way to the vineyard fence, climb over it, get into the villa’s vineyard and then onto the terrace. From there, we can get into the villa through the gardener’s entrance. It’s covered in ivy and well hidden. We can enter there.”
Eric moved away from the gate to a wall in need of repair. Before he could climb up, Dr. Johansen pulled him under a street light. His face was yellow under the light and strained.
“When we have scaled this wall, lead the way but do so silently. If I tap you on the shoulder, you must freeze instantly. The villa is under surveillance but currently the OSS don’t think you are there which, in many ways, makes it the perfect place to be. That is if we remain hidden as we enter. It would be prudent to keep them in the dark by staying in the dark.”
Eric did not like being ordered and shook himself away from Dr. Johansen.
“I don’t know you but I do know where I am. You had better keep up with me because I won’t wait for you. And, for your information, since my parents were killed the whole world has been watching me so it is hardly something new.”
With that said, he turned away and stared at the wall. Many bricks were missing or were chipped, and it looked like a badly painted chess board. Seeking out his first handhold, he approached the wall, found it and scaled the three metres of brick like a spider. In a few seconds, he was on the other side. Dr. Johansen was beside him in an instant.
On the road side of the wall, the street light had bathed everything in yellow. On the park side, there was no light. Eric and Dr. Johansen were plunged into darkness. Their eyes slowly adjusted and the little they could see was in various shades of grey. The path they stood on was light grey, the trees grey and, beyond the vineyard, the villa was silhouetted black against the dark grey sky. Far below them a long train rumbled by.
Eric ran off through the trees and bushes towards the vineyard. He could not see well but managed to duck and swerve around all the branches that blocked his way. Behind him, Dr. Johansen painfully hit most of them. Just as Eric reached the wire fence around the vineyard, Dr. Johansen placed his hand strongly on Eric’s shoulder and pulled him down into a crouch. Eric shook the hand off. Before he had a chance to say anything, Dr. Johansen placed his hand over Eric’s mouth and pointed to below the villa.
Surrounding the terrace and at the top of the vineyard was a high wall. Eric looked along it but stopped when he reached the centre. Leading majestically from the vineyard to the terrace were two diagonal staircases, and hidden beside the last step were two figures. They were almost invisible and would not have been seen from the villa’s windows or the terrace. They were a little over two hundred metres from where Eric and Dr. Johansen were hiding. Eric wrote the letters O, S and S in the air. Dr. Johansen nodded. The two agents were moving their heads in wide arcs, obviously checking the area. Before they looked in Eric’s direction, Dr. Johansen dropped down onto his belly. Eric copied him.
The ground was cold, hard, and snow lay in places. Moving like snakes they approached the wire fence and crawled along it until they found a place where it was not touching the earth. Silently, Dr. Johansen lifted the wire upwards for them to crawl under. When he let go, it curled back down. He tried again, but the same thing happened. He tried lifting it higher but the fence was attached to metal poles and would not move any further.
Dr. Johansen considered his options. To make a gap big enough for them both to get under would mean ripping the fence from its posts. This would be noisy and would attract unwanted attention. If they attempted to climb over it instead they would be seen by the OSS agents but, looking along the fence, there were no other ways in.
The silence was broken by a train screeching to a halt. Immediately Dr. Johansen yanked the fence upwards. It shook and rattled, but the train covered the noise. The resulting gap was big enough for them both to slide through and by the time the train had finished braking they were in the vineyard.
Eric stopped moving when he reached the end of a row of vines. He looked towards the men. They had gone. From behind, Dr. Johansen tapped him on the leg. He was clearly agitated and urgently motioned Eric to continue forward. Once again Eric scanned the area a
round them. The men were nowhere to be seen. The terrace overlooking the vineyard was empty; there was no one against the walls below it and the staircases, where the OSS had been heading, were free.
Raising himself onto all fours, Eric scampered off like a monkey, with Dr. Johansen close behind. He was just reaching the other end of the row when two large figures stepped out in front of him. Eric stopped, fell onto his belly and rolled into a shallow ditch under the vines, scratching himself as he did so. His trousers started to feel wet and then freezing water pinched at his skin. The cold crept up his body, daring him to shout out in shock, but he clamped his lips tightly shut.
“Where was it?” asked a man with a rough New York accent.
“Down by the fence,” replied his partner. “Definite movement.”
“Probably two kids making out.”
“Yeah, probably, but we’d better check it out. And stay low. We can’t be seen. This is still a covert operation remember.”
“You don’t have to remind me of protocol,” replied the New Yorker, sounding slightly annoyed. “Come on, let’s go.”
Despite their body size, the men’s footsteps were as light as children’s as they walked away. When he could no longer hear them, Eric rolled out of the ditch and quickly crawled towards the staircase. His teeth were chattering, and his legs stung from the cold.
At the bottom of the two marble staircases, Dr. Johansen motioned Eric to stop and remove his shoes and socks. Their bare feet made no sound as they bounded up each step, but the polished stone was bitterly cold and chilled their feet to the bone. They didn’t stop moving until they had sprinted across the open terrace and had hidden behind the ivy clinging to the villa. Next to a solid wooden door was a pair of old wellies. Eric reached inside one, pulled out a key and used it to let them both into a pitch black room.
The room smelt of earth, fertilizer and fermented wine. Dr. Johansen closed the door silently behind them, and Eric felt around in the dark, trying to find a light switch. Suddenly a cold hand covered his mouth and gripped him tightly. Metal brushed against his cheek, and he felt a gun.
A few seconds later the light sparked on to reveal a small windowless room with garden equipment lining the walls like weapons and bags of fertilizer piled on the floor amongst the demijohns.
“Well done. That’s much better,” said Dr. Johansen, as he fiddled with the door’s lock, his back to Eric.
But Eric could not reply, and his eyes were fixed on the small firearm pointing towards the door.
“What’s up? The cat got your tongue? It’s time to rejoice. We made it.”
Dr. Johansen turned around. His mouth fell open like a fish, and his eyes widened. At the same time, Eric was released, and the gun fell limp.
“Hello Andrea,” greeted Dr. Johansen.
“Alexander,” replied Andrea and she almost sounded surprised.
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Chapter 22 - Professor Larsen’s Story
“You know each other?” asked Eric, not believing what he was hearing. He jumped away from Andrea as if she had suddenly given him an electric shock.
Andrea and Dr. Johansen nodded.
“And you knew he was going to kidnap me?” asked Eric, pointing accusingly between the two of them.
His jeans were sodden, and he was shivering as he spoke, both from the cold and anger. He felt betrayed.
“I have not spoken to Alexander in thirteen years, five months and eighteen days,” replied Andrea and put the gun in her pocket.
“We had lost contact,” added Dr. Johansen
His reply was a little too quick for Eric’s liking.
“I’m not surprised,” said Eric to Dr. Johansen. “You’re mad and Andrea’s the sanest person I know.”
He turned to Andrea, “You should have heard the things he told me. He’s a crazy man.”
“Go and get changed and meet us in the lounge,” Andrea replied. “There will be a hot chocolate waiting for you.”
The lounge was decorated in keeping with the age of the building. Landscape paintings hung on the emerald green walls, and a faded, Persian rug covered most of the floor. Around the rug were three Edwardian, leather sofas and in the centre of it a mahogany, coffee table, upon which was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
Ten minutes later Eric entered through the heavy door. He looked less tense than he had been in the gardener’s storeroom. He had changed into his cotton pyjamas and a white dressing gown. He stood in the doorway and tried to understand the relationship between Andrea and Dr. Johansen. They were sat on one of the sofas talking. At one end was Dr. Johansen, his face switching between excitement and fear as he spoke. Andrea sat at the other end, just listening and without any signs of emotion.
Eric walked sleepily across the rug towards the coffee table. He was enjoying the soft feel of the threads between his toes. He took his mug in two hands, shot a displeased glance at the adults and lay down on the sofa opposite them.
“It is very late, Eric,” Andrea began, “I would like you to drink your hot chocolate and then go to bed.”
“I’m not tired,” answered Eric, between yawns. “I want to hear him tell you what he has told me.”
Eric lifted a finger from the mug and pointed it angrily at Dr. Johansen.
“That will not be necessary,” Andrea replied calmly. “I already know what Alexander has told you. You do not need to worry about it now.”
“How do you know?” asked Eric slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open while yawning.
Before she could explain, Eric was fast asleep. The mug resting on his chest rocked gently up and down as he breathed.
The next morning, Eric woke up to find himself back in his own bed, and Ursula sat on the boxing glove bean bag watching him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply.
“I was worried about you and you’ve got more white hair, so I think I was right to worry,” replied Ursula, bringing her knees up to her chin.
She was wearing her favourite ripped jeans and the new hoodie she had received in Paris. Even though she was the same height as Eric, he felt that she looked smaller this morning.
Worry has shrunk her, he thought.
Eric regretted being so sharp and tried to make up for it. He had never known another child to worry about him before.
Perhaps this is what friends do, he thought.
“I’m fine thanks. Er, how are you?” he asked politely.
Ursula uncurled herself before answering and bounced up onto the end of Eric’s bed.
“I don’t know really. I guess I feel confused... and excited... and worried.”
“Er, why?” Eric asked. He was not used to morning conversations in his bedroom as it was not something that happened that much.
“I knew where you were last night. You were in the Kino Alfa, the old cinema, weren’t you?”
Eric nodded.
“And I knew you were sort of okay until you left and then I started to worry about you and then I fell asleep.”
“So?”
“So? We can read each other minds. Can’t you see?”
Yawning, Eric thought about it and then replied, “Yesterday when I escaped from school you were worried about me, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“But then I tried to send you a good thought and you felt okay.”
Ursula smiled.
“And is this why you are excited and confused?”
“Yes,” replied Ursula still smiling.
“So, why are you worried?”
The smile disappeared from Ursula’s face in a flash, “Because I can’t find Andrea. I haven’t seen her all morning.”
It was like a rocket had gone off beneath Eric, and he exploded out of bed. The duvet, other bed covers and pillows flew to all corners of the room. He grabbed a pair of jeans, pulled them on, put on a T-shirt, and headed for the door.
Under his breath he was muttering, “I should never have let hi
m in. I should never have let him in.”
The two of them went first to Andrea’s room. It was empty and looked as if it hadn’t been used, which was not that unusual. They searched the other rooms on their floor of the villa, but they were also all empty, so they went down to the lounge. Apart from Eric’s mug on the coffee table, there was no sign that anyone had been there. The kitchen was also empty but, on entering the pantry, they discovered the cellar door open.
Strolling forward, Ursula looked down the dark passageway, but Eric stood well back. Beads of perspiration were forming on his brow, and he was nervously moving jars of jam on a shelf.
“There’s a light at the end coming through a half open door. If we run down the corridor, we can reach it in only a few seconds. I’ll go first and then all you have to do is look at me,” suggested Ursula.
For a moment, Eric did not move but then the thought of losing Andrea overcame him, and he placed his hands on Ursula’s shoulders.
“Let’s go,” he whispered in her ear.
They sprinted down the passageway. When they reached the door, Ursula opened it fully, and they stepped cautiously into the room beyond.
They stood on a very high platform at the top of a cave. Beside them was a rock face and coming out from it were steps leading down. Each one was a piece of rock and, even though they all had flat tops, none were the same size or shape. In front of them, hanging from the rock ceiling, was a circular floodlight which bathed the floor in bright light. All the other sides of the room were covered, if not entirely, in walls made from terracotta brick. The walls curved dangerously over rounded rocks faces and looked very unstable.
The floor of the large room looked like polished marble and was covered with piles of strange looking objects. Some were as small as a mobile phone and others were as big as a car. Some looked like guns and others like hairdryers. Many looked like rockets; a few looked like vehicles, but most looked like junk. There were so many it was hard to take them all in.