The Doctor Dines in Prague

by Robin Hathaway

  A brown arrow with MONKEYS printed on it in white letters pointed the way. Marie skipped ahead, while Horatio strolled behind. Mrs. Doyle followed more slowly, but was careful not to let them out of her sight. She couldn’t rid herself of an uneasy feeling. That e-mail message from the doctor had been so strange.

  After the elephants, Mrs. Doyle stopped at a vendor’s stall and bought three boxes of Cracker Jack. No visit to the zoo would be complete without burrowing into the sticky, caramel-coated popcorn to find the prize at the bottom. Her father had always bought a box for each child. (Mrs. Doyle was one of a family of eight) and then they would all compare to see who had gotten the best prize. In retrospect she wondered why there hadn’t been more fuss over the toys. She put it down to her father’s personality. He had had that rare gift of maintaining discipline and good feeling at the same time.

  For Marie, this was a new treat. She bored to the bottom of the box and came up with a tiny silver ring. As she slipped it on her pinky finger, she crowed with delight. It was a perfect fit.

  Horatio pulled out a little silver frog with a slightly misshapen head. “Kid’s stuff,” he muttered, handing it to Marie.

  Mrs. Doyle had to admit she was just a big kid. She was getting as much kick out of this as Marie was. Slowly, Mrs. Doyle reached in the box and drew out a miniature silver whistle. She pressed it to her lips and was thrilled when it produced a tiny peep. Marie clapped her hands. At a nearby drinking fountain, the nurse washed the whistle and gave it to the child.

  As they moved on, Mrs. Doyle saw a scruffy-looking man staring at them. He was leaning against the railing that ringed the Otter Pond. When she caught his eye, he quickly looked away. Marie ran up to the rail and stared down at the otters. “Look,” she cried, as one otter slid down the sliding-board and landed in the water with a splash. They watched the otters’ antics for a while. When they moved on, the scruffy man had disappeared.

  The next sign said BEARS, and Marie chatted with Jiri, in Czech, preparing him for the coming reunion with his relatives. Horatio resumed his yo-yoing. And Mrs. Doyle tried not to think about her feet.

  CHAPTER 24

  Jennifer wove through the throng, stretching her neck from time to time to keep Ilsa’s blonde head in sight. The other woman was moving rapidly down Golden Lane, as if on an urgent errand.

  Golden Lane was a row of tiny stucco houses built during the reign of Rudolph II, when Bohemia still belonged to the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. According to legend, these houses were occupied by alchemists looking for a magic potion that would turn lead into gold. At one time, Franz Kafka had lived and written in one of these houses. Jennifer would have loved to linger there, but now was not the time to play tourist. She was on a mission.

  At the bottom of the lane, Jennifer lost sight of Ilsa. She looked frantically to her right and her left, berating herself for even glancing at the quaint houses on Golden Lane. Finally she spied her quarry, slipping between the trees on the riverbank, heading toward a bridge. Not the Charles Bridge—another one, that was not as crowded.

  Now Jennifer worried about her cover. There were only a few people crossing the bridge and if Ilsa turned, she would see her immediately. At the risk of losing her, Jennifer hung back. At one point Ilsa paused and glanced over her shoulder. Jennifer, who was about fifty feet behind her, leaned over the railing, pretending a deep fascination in a mallard duck. Ilsa had seen Jennifer once, and only for a minute, at a distance. They hadn’t even been in the same room. But Jennifer had recognized Ilsa immediately. Why couldn’t Ilsa do the same? Ilsa turned back and continued walking. Jennifer breathed easier. But she must be careful.

  They continued their cat-and-mouse routine until Ilsa paused at a bus stop. This was not good. How could Jennifer get on the same bus with Ilsa without being seen? Answer: She couldn’t. She would have to get a cab and follow the bus. But cabs were not plentiful in this neighborhood. In fact, Jennifer had not seen one since she had left the bridge. Impatient with the poor bus service, Ilsa moved on. Good. Jennifer prayed she would keep walking. The path they were following was lined with trees and thick shrubbery. If Ilsa decided to turn around, Jennifer could easily duck behind a tree or shrub. Ilsa didn’t turn. She kept walking for three long blocks. The neighborhood began to change, from park-like to more urban. The trees grew sparser and some commercial buildings began to sprout up. A bank. A dress shop. On the next corner was a supermarket. Smaller than your average American market, but with a row of self-service carts lined up in front. To Jennifer’s dismay, Ilsa went inside.

  CHAPTER 25

  Redik moved fast. Fenimore had a hard time keeping up with him. His motion was like that of a dancer or acrobat—fluid and swift. Fenimore remembered that Redik had moved his marionettes with the same dexterity. The tote bag didn’t hinder him.

  The streets were full in Mala Strana. But the crowd had broken up into smaller clusters and people were talking excitedly about the theft. Fenimore understood a few exclamations. “Zlodj!” (“Thief!”) and “Policie!” (“Police!”), but most of it sounded like gibberish to him. Redik was heading for the Charles Bridge. Fenimore had no trouble keeping out of sight. Most of the people were heading in the same direction. He had trouble keeping Redik in sight, however. The man was wily, and disappeared easily. Midway across the bridge, Fenimore thought he had lost him. But he caught sight of him again near the Old Bridge Tower, the one he had climbed with Ilsa the day before. Keeping his eyes fixed on the back of Redik’s head, he was startled to see him make a sharp turn into the tower. Oh my god. How can I follow him now? Fenimore hesitated, his hand on the door.

  “You goin’ up or what?” demanded an American tourist, draped in a backpack and multiple cameras.

  “Uh … .”

  “They tell me this is one of the best views of the city.” The man pushed past him.

  Fenimore followed cautiously.

  CHAPTER 26

  The smaller brown bears were the ones that bore the closest resemblance to Jiri. Marie held the teddy bear over the rail and made him wave his paw vigorously. At one point the bear slipped and almost had a more intimate visit with his relatives. But Horatio reached out and grabbed him in the nick of time.

  After watching the keeper feed the bears, Horatio announced, “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too,” echoed Marie.

  Mrs. Doyle escorted them to the picnic ground where they bought hot dogs, hamburgers, and sodas. When she saw the prices she fervently wished she had packed them a lunch. Too late now. They settled down on a bench at a long picnic table and removed the foil from their sandwiches. At these prices, the foil should be sterling silver, Mrs. Doyle thought, and the sodas liquid gold. As she took her first bite, she saw that man again. The one from the Otter Pond. He was eating at a table a few yards away. Well, that wasn’t too unusual. People moved at a similar pace. It was the same in the supermarket; you kept running into the same shoppers over and over in the aisles. She relaxed and concentrated on her burger.

  Horatio finished first and began playing with his yo-yo. He was so good at it, he attracted a little crowd of spectators. When he completed one especially elaborate trick, they even clapped. Mrs. Doyle was sorry he hadn’t brought a hat. He could have set it out and collected enough to pay for their lunch.

  After a while Horatio pocketed his toy and the crowd dispersed. Reluctant to get to her feet again, Mrs. Doyle prolonged her respite by eating slowly and sending the children off to buy ice cream. She was wrapping up their trash when she heard a commotion at the other end of the park. Quickly looking that way, she was horrified to see Horatio grappling with a man much bigger than himself. The man from the Otter Pond. To see Mrs. Doyle cover the ground between the table and Horatio, you would think she had the fittest feet in the universe. As she drew near, the man seemed to be getting the best of the boy. Marie cowered on a bench, eyes wide. Now and then she smacked her fist into her palm and cried, “Get him, Rat! Get him!”

  Mrs. Doyle was ab
out to enter the fray when Horatio freed himself and stepped back. There was a hiss, followed by a thwack, and the man fell to the ground.

  Marie ran over to look at him.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Doyle grabbed each child by one arm.

  “He tried to snatch Marie!” Horatio said, between pants. Sweat poured down his face, and, now that the danger was past, he looked scared.

  “What in the world did you do to him?” Mrs. Doyle was relieved to see the man’s foot move. For a minute she had been afraid—

  “He hit him in the head with his yo-yo!” Marie stared at Horatio with awe.

  “Good grief.” Stirred by visions of David and Goliath, Mrs. Doyle patted the boy on the back. “Good for you, Rat!”

  Turning, she saw a small crowd descending on them, a security guard leading the pack.

  CHAPTER 27

  After Ilsa disappeared inside the market, Jennifer hesitated, hovering outside. If she went in, Ilsa might see her; but if she didn’t, her quarry might leave by another exit. Curiosity won out over caution. Jennifer entered the store.

  She spied Ilsa at the end of aisle 3. Cookies, crackers, pasta. Pretending to browse, Jennifer worked her way, crab-like, toward the opposite end of the aisle. Ilsa turned right. When Jennifer reached the end, she peered out in time to see Ilsa vanish through a swinging door. At first she thought it led outside. Then she saw the sign above it: ZÁCHOD The word meant nothing to Jennifer, but the silhouettes of a man and a woman below it were the universal sign for REST ROOMS.

  Jennifer waited, her back to the sign, pretending to scrutinize the prices of beer and wine. Being able to buy alcohol in a supermarket was a novelty to Jennifer. In Philadelphia you had to go to a dreary state-owned liquor store that sold nothing but alcoholic beverages and related items. She kept her ears tuned for the sound of the swinging door opening behind her. A large family party, enjoying the adventure of shopping together, stopped directly behind her to discuss their purchases amid much hilarity.

  When they finally moved on, Jennifer was afraid she had missed Ilsa. Had the woman come out while she was admiring the colorful wine labels? She looked swiftly around. No Ilsa. The next aisle was also empty. Her gaze was drawn to the front window, just as Ilsa appeared on the other side—striding away. She was empty-handed. Apparently she had not come to the store to buy anything, but merely to use the facilities. Jennifer would have liked to use them, too. But, like a good Hitchcockian heroine, she gritted her teeth and hurried after her prey.

  CHAPTER 28

  Fenimore trudged up the tower steps behind the American tourist, pausing when he paused, climbing when he climbed. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he would do when he reached the top. He would solve that problem when he got there.

  The stairs were steep and seemed to go on forever. He hadn’t remembered them being so steep or so numerous when he was with Ilsa. From time to time he glanced out the slit-like windows and glimpsed a slice of the city: red roofs, an emerald dome, or silver spires in the sun’s ebbing rays. Now was not the time to admire the view. What was he going to do when he got to the top? Pretend to be touring, like that fellow ahead of him? What a coincidence bumping into you, Redik, he would say. By the way, I just ran into Ilsa and she told me she’d like her tote bag back.

  Spying the statue of the tower guard, Fenimore paused. He was nearing the top. He heard the door to the roof open with a sound like a mewing cat. It fell shut with a thud. Redik and the tourist were up there together now. What were they doing—chatting about the view? Maybe the tourist was asking Redik to point out some of the outstanding buildings so he could photograph them. The tourist would then circle the roof, taking shots at odd and interesting angles, to impress the folks back home. This could go on for hours.

  Fenimore examined the stone face of the tower guard more closely. There was nothing else to do. His face was pitted and worn from years of exposure to the weather. He must have been outside for many years. Fenimore wondered who had decided to bring him in. His thoughts turned inward. He began to fret about his friends. Would Jennifer listen to him and resist confronting Ilsa? His mind flew to Philadelphia. Were they getting along okay? Was Marie homesick?

  Creeeeak. The roof door opened.

  Here he comes. Fenimore’s heart thumped loudly. The tourist or Redik?

  “Nice,” the tourist said. “I got some good shots.” He patted one of his many cameras as he slipped past Fenimore.

  Waiting until the man’s footsteps faded away, Fenimore took a deep breath. Then he climbed the remaining stairs to the top of the tower.

  CHAPTER 29

  As the security guard approached, Mrs. Doyle prepared what she was going to say. She still held Marie and Horatio, each by an arm. The man on the ground was beginning to stir.

  “What’s going on here?” The guard grabbed Horatio by the collar. The boy’s dark skin, dark clothes, and youth automatically made him the most likely suspect.

  “No, Officer. There’s your villain!” Mrs. Doyle pointed at the man who was now trying to sit up.

  “What … . What hit me?” The man succeeded in raising his torso and began rubbing his temple.

  “He tried to snatch this little girl!” Mrs. Doyle cried.

  While he sorted things out, the guard still held Horatio by the collar. A radio crackled on his belt. He spoke into it, asking for reinforcements. “What did you hit him with?” He gave Horatio a shake.

  “My yo-yo.”

  “Give it here.”

  Reluctantly, the boy handed it over.

  The guard examined it curiously.

  The man was struggling to his feet.

  “Don’t let him get away!” Mrs. Doyle warned.

  The guard pocketed the yo-yo and offered the struggling man his hand.

  “That man tried to kidnap this child,” Mrs. Doyle repeated in frustration.

  The guard ignored her. “Are you all right?” he asked the man.

  “A little dizzy.” Now on his feet, the man continued to rub his temple.

  Two other security guards joined them.

  “This man needs medical attention. Take him to the first-aid station.”

  The newly arrived guard took the injured man’s arm. The first guard started to march Horatio off.

  “Wait—!” Mrs. Doyle cried.

  Horatio sent a desperate look over his shoulder. The nurse was alarmed by his expression. She had never seen him look helpless and frightened.

  “Where are you taking him?” Mrs. Doyle trotted behind, trying to keep up with them.

  “The Main Office.”

  “I’m coming, too.”

  By way of an answer, the guard gave Horatio an unnecessary shove.

  Holding on tightly to Marie’s hand, Mrs. Doyle trailed after them. She racked her brain for some way to free the boy. If Dr. Fenimore were here, he would have thought of some—Wait a minute! Horatio would be allowed one phone call. An avid watcher of Law & Order Mrs. Doyle was sure of that. And she knew exactly who he should call.

  CHAPTER 30

  Shadows were lengthening. Gaslights were flickering on. Jennifer was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a bathroom. She trudged forward, keeping her eyes fixed on the large blonde woman in front of her who was plowing her way through the crowd—feeling like a tugboat in the wake of an ocean liner.

  The wide boulevards had given way to a warren of narrow, twisted streets. This was an older part of the city. There were more people here. Young couples and tourists, mainly, out for a good time. Jennifer envied them. No worries—they could loiter, browse … and go to the bathroom whenever they felt like it!

  She craned her neck, sighting the blonde head still bobbing above most of the others. Without warning, Ilsa turned into an alley and disappeared. Now what? Jennifer paused at the entrance and peered down the alley. Midway down, she saw Ilsa fitting a key into the lock of a wrought-iron gate. Stepping inside, Ilsa pulled it shut behind her with a clang.

  Jennifer let
a few minutes pass before she went up to the gate. Pretending to admire the delicate ironwork, she gave it a surreptitious tug. It was locked fast. Next to the gate, embedded in the plaster wall, was a yellow porcelain tile with the number 16 painted on it in black. As she left the alley, Jennifer carefully noted its name: LOUTKA ULIKA. She had no idea what it meant. In the light of a street lamp, she flipped through her small Czech dictionary. Loutka: “doll, puppet.” Then, Ulika: “alley.” Doll Alley. Stowing the book, Jennifer dashed into the nearest café and accosted the first waitress she saw. “Záchod!” she said, making use of the word she had recently learned at the supermarket,

  That emergency taken care of, she returned to Loutka Ulika. It was darker now but she could still make out the large, square house with plaster walls, tile roof, and twin brick chimneys—from the Renaissance period; a modern house by Prague standards. A strip of lawn bordered with flowerbeds lay between the gate and the house. In a few weeks those beds would burst into colorful bloom. Now they resembled newly prepared graves. Could this be where Fenimore’s cousins were being held captive? Or was it simply Ilsa’s home? Or a combination? It was too opulent to be the home of a professor, Jennifer decided. Was the locked gate the only entrance? She explored the adjacent alley to which the back of the house abutted. Nothing but a blank wall. No doors. Not even a window. Discouraged, she returned to the front gate. Topped with iron spikes, there was no chance of scaling it without risking serious injury. Desperately she scanned the alley, her gaze finally coming to rest at her feet. Beneath them lay an iron grate.

  CHAPTER 31

  Fenimore slowly pulled open the door to the roof, trying by sheer willpower to prevent it from creaking. Carefully he drew the door closed behind him. Redik was nowhere in sight. He must be on the other side of the tower. Cautiously, Fenimore made his way along the narrow path between the tapering copper roof and the slim iron railing. Coming to the last bend in the path, Fenimore peered around the tower roof and saw him. His back to Fenimore, Redik was bending over the blue tote bag. As Fenimore watched, he reached inside and pulled something out. The royal crown. Its gems glowed red, yellow, blue, and green in the waning afternoon light. Redik gazed at it for a long moment, then placed it firmly on his head. Remembering the emperor’s curse, Fenimore stifled a gasp.