Soul Intent

by dennis batchelder

“Because they’d waste it, and it would all end up in some loan shark’s hands,” she said. “I’ve thought about this for a long time—just handing over the money isn’t restitution. They didn’t lose it, and they shouldn’t benefit from it.”

  “What kinds of victims would you help?” Val asked.

  “People who are discriminated against. I want to give them hope and help them become valuable members of society,” Madame Flora said. “Many cities in Eastern Europe are throwing the Roma out of their downtowns. They’re building them new ghettos on their outskirts, where crime and unemployment run rampant.”

  “So how could you give them hope?” Val asked.

  “They need community anchors,” she said. “I’d set up a grocery store and use it to fund some jobs. Then I’d make micro-loans at decent rates and put the loan sharks out of business. And I’d start a small craft school so the young people can learn to make a living. These three things would help each Roma community.”

  “Don’t charities already help them?” I asked. I thought about the quarter million dollars we had just committed to a Roma charity.

  She nodded. “But it’s never enough. There are millions of Roma spread across the continent, and the charities are fighting uphill battles in each neighborhood. I’ve given them every dime from every Soul Identity commission I’ve ever received, but it’s still not enough,” she said. “The gold is important to me emotionally, that’s true. But the gold will also help the Roma. And you two ought to help me retrieve it.”

  I shot a glance at Val, and I saw that Madame Flora’s story was working—Val stared at her, unblinking, nodding her head.

  Had the old lady hypnotized her?

  “Why make this our fight?” I asked Madame Flora.

  They both shot me dirty looks.

  “It’s everyone’s fight,” Val said.

  Oops—I had used the wrong words. But I needed to shut this down before we got ourselves sucked in over our heads. “How many people went with you to hide the gold?” I asked Madame Flora.

  “Two others—Major Callaghan and one helper.”

  “And how many of them survived the task?” I asked.

  She was silent for a moment. “Why does that matter?”

  “Yesterday you told us that the Nazis made it way too dangerous to look for the gold,” I said. “Then last night you told us how James was almost killed.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not done,” I said. “This morning we learned how you and Archie helped Goering commit suicide. And last year we saw you in action in Venice,” I said. “I want you to help me calculate our chances for survival.”

  “I won’t lie to you,” she said.

  Of course she would.

  “The chances are not that good.”

  That meant the odds were way against us.

  She sighed. “Only I made it back.”

  Oh boy.

  Val looked at me with a solemn expression. “Regardless of our chances, we need to help Flora.”

  Was she serious? “You’d risk our lives for some Nazi gold?” I asked.

  Her chin went up. “I’d risk my life to make a difference.”

  I pondered this turn of events. “Surely there are other opportunities to make a difference,” I finally said.

  “This one’s ours,” she said. “Somehow we’re being called to it.”

  Game over—if Val was in, there was no way I’d be out. And if I was honest with myself, I did want to soak up everything I could about Ned Callaghan. Not that I felt any physical connection to him, but his memories and his attempt at relevancy had become my responsibility since I opened our soul line collection.

  I looked at Madame Flora and waited until she wiped off the little smile that had started to lift the corners of her wrinkled face. “I have two conditions,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “First, Soul Identity needs to back this treasure hunt.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “You need their resources, and I want to get paid,” I said. “That means we need Archie. This afternoon, you’re going to explain how you tricked him out of the deposit, and you’re going to invite him to join us.”

  She grimaced. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  And I was sure she could. “I’ve learned how resourceful you are,” I said. “You’ll find a way.”

  She sighed and looked at Val, but when Val didn’t respond, she turned back to me and nodded.

  “Good,” I said. “Second, you will tell me everything you know about Ned Callaghan. What he told you, and what happened to him on your little trip to hide the gold.” I figured I could augment Ned’s rather bleak memories in our soul line collection. It was the least I could do for our future carriers.

  “What if I tell you about him as we go?”

  She wanted to use her knowledge of Ned as leverage over me. So be it. “That’s fine,” I said.

  Val raised her hand. “I also have a condition.” She faced the old lady. “You must tell Mr. Morgan the whole story. How you used him, how you loved him, and how he was the father of your son.”

  Madame Flora crossed her arms.

  “He has every right to know the truth,” Val said.

  “Would you have me break his heart?”

  Val glared at her. “After you lectured Scott on his moral obligation to help finish what you and Ned Callaghan started, how can you even ask that question?”

  Madame Flora sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “But can I open that can of worms once we’re in Europe?”

  Val nodded. “As long as Mr. Morgan has the full story by the time we recover the gold and get back.”

  If we got back.

  thirty-five

  Present Day

  Sterling, Massachusetts

  Madame Flora and I parked ourselves at Archie’s coffee table and waited for him to get off the phone.

  He wrapped up his call and came over to stand behind an empty chair. He looked at us each in turn. “You both seem uneasy,” he said at last.

  Madame Flora rolled her eyes at me.

  “Your dear friend Madame Flora has something important to share with you,” I said.

  Archie raised his eyebrows. “That sounds ominous.”

  “Sit down, Archibald,” Madame Flora said. “This may take a while.”

  He sat.

  “May I see that depositary receipt you showed us yesterday?” she asked him.

  Archie pulled the plastic bag out of his wallet and removed the small slip of paper. He handed it to her.

  Madame Flora glanced at it and chuckled. “It’s amazing you never noticed.” She gave it back to him.

  Archie peered at it, but then he shook his head and held it out to me. “What am I missing?” he asked.

  I took it. It looked fine to me—what was she laughing at?

  Then I saw it. I passed it back to Archie. “What day did you make the deposit?” I asked him.

  He extended his arm and squinted through his glasses at the receipt. “Just like it says—the fourteenth of October.” He looked at Madame Flora. “What are you getting at?”

  “You were planning to make the deposit on the fourteenth,” Madame Flora said. “But you didn’t.”

  Archie bowed his head for a moment. “I had forgotten that,” he said. “I could not make the deposit, because James had fallen out of bed. I asked you…” his eyes narrowed.

  “You asked me to reschedule the team for the next day,” she said. “But I didn’t. I deposited that journal you found instead of the gold. They gave me the receipt, and I used a razor blade to scrape off the item list and your signature. I couldn’t remove the date because of that line underneath it.”

  Archie stared at her. “And the next day?”

  “And the next day,” she said, “I sent a fake team, who filled out that receipt for what you thought was the real deposit.”

  Archie dropped the receipt onto the coffee table. “You re-used a depositary
receipt?” His voice rose in volume. “You forged my name onto the original? You assembled a fake depositary team?”

  “I did.” Madame Flora frowned. “And even with your ring, you never would have known it was me without your little security consultant to figure it out.”

  Archie swung around to face me, awfully quick for an eighty-four year old. “Are you in on this?”

  Did my soul line ancestor count? “Archie, it was sixty-four years ago. I wasn’t even born then,” I said. “You asked me to catch the thief and find out how Goering’s gold was stolen.” I pointed at Madame Flora. “I found your thief. Now listen to her, and she’ll tell you how she did it.”

  She glared at me. “Stop calling me a thief. The Nazis stole the gold, and then Goering stole it from them. All I did was keep it out of his soul line collection.”

  Archie walked over to his desk. He turned around and came back to his seat. He looked at me for a minute, then at Madame Flora. He got up again and went to the window.

  Madame Flora cleared her throat, but I shushed her.

  After a few minutes he came back and sat down. He stared at Madame Flora. “Your story is preposterous,” he said. Then he turned to me. “Scott, you have fingered the wrong person. There is no way Flora could have stolen the gold.”

  Madame Flora sighed. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” she said to me.

  “You don’t think she did it?” I asked Archie.

  He shook his head. “We had too much security, Scott. We used double passwords. And I personally checked the identity of the depositary team leader before I turned over the gold.” He turned to Madame Flora. “Are you protecting the real thief with your false confession?”

  “I most certainly am not!” she said. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were smoldering. “I tricked you, plain and simple. I smothered James, then I pulled him onto the floor so you’d have to leave. I guessed your secret password, and I signed your name. Then I watched you hand Goering’s gold to my men.”

  Archie’s shoulders sagged. “Why would you do this?” he asked.

  “To stop you,” she said. “You knew it was wrong!”

  They both went silent. I bit my tongue and waited.

  Finally Archie spoke. He was looking at the floor. “What you did was just as wrong, Flora.” His eyes flicked up at hers, then back down. “You deliberately sabotaged a Soul Identity mission. You violated its integrity.”

  “I did what I had to do,” she said. She pursed her lips. “And the sooner you agree with me, the sooner we can go get that gold.”

  He raised his eyes and met hers. “To return it to the depositary?”

  “No, you silly old goat. To return it to the families of the victims.”

  Another few minutes of silence. Then Archie turned to me. “How did you figure it all out?”

  Madame Flora threw me a sharp glance.

  Val had asked her to tell the whole story, including that he was a daddy, but only once we recovered the gold. I wasn’t going to spoil it for her. Besides, watching them handle this old dispute was painful enough without throwing lost love opportunities into the mix.

  “A few lucky guesses,” I said to Archie. “Plus, she was acting pretty weird in the meetings yesterday when she saw the journal.”

  He seemed to buy my lame explanation. He turned back to Madame Flora. “I want the full story.”

  She shook her head. “Only after we get the gold,” she said. “Are you going to help?”

  More silence. They glared at each other.

  Time to help break this log jam. “Archie,” I said, “you admitted yesterday that you were wrong, and that you hated yourself for doing business with Goering.” I pointed at Madame Flora. “She’s right—it’s time to finish the job. It’s time for Soul Identity to step up to the plate.”

  He kept his eyes on her as he nodded. “Where did you hide it?” he asked her.

  “Not until you commit,” she said.

  “I am committed,” he said. “And so are Soul Identity’s resources.” He held up his hand. “But I am coming with you.”

  Madame Flora smiled. “You’re more than welcome to come, Archibald. You are part of this.” She clapped her hands twice. “We’ll start our journey in Nuremberg.”

  “You hid the gold in the city?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s a long way from there,” she said. “I’ll work with George and Sue to handle the logistics. Rose and Marie will come too. They need to learn more about their heritage.” She pointed at me. “You and Val need to spend a week in training.”

  “Training?” I asked.

  “Diving,” she said. “The gold is buried underwater.”

  Great.

  “When do you want to leave, Flora?” Archie asked.

  “Soon,” she said. “It’s already October—if we don’t hurry, the mountains will be snowed in till spring.”

  thirty-six

  Present Day

  Chesapeake Bay, Maryland

  I tried to kick my way up to the surface. I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs, no matter how hard I sucked on the regulator. Frantic shouts came over the intercom, but I ignored them. I had only one thing on my mind—I had to get out of the water.

  I broke through the surface into the moonlight and ripped the mask off my face and the regulator out of my mouth. I gulped the air and tried to think of happy thoughts.

  Christian Nielsen, our dive master, popped up a moment later and tore off his own mask. He slapped his palm hard against the water and sent up a great splash. Then he swam to the boat and clambered onto the dive platform.

  Christian’s eight-year-old son Julian walked back to the stern. “Dad, give the man a break,” he said.

  “He could get us all killed by acting like that,” Christian said. He pointed at me. “Do that next week, and you’ll both end up in a compression chamber.”

  At that moment, I didn’t really care. “There’s not going to be a next week,” I gasped.

  Val surfaced next to me. She turned to the instructor. “I think Scott was better this time.”

  “Bullshit,” Christian said. “He panicked again. We’re done here—this isn’t gonna work.”

  “I think he can do it,” Julian said. He gave me a smile. “I know he can.”

  Christian faced his son. “What makes you so sure, Julian?”

  “Sometimes I just know,” he said. “You know I’m right, Dad.”

  Our dive instructor frowned. “My son is usually a better judge of talent than I am,” he said to Val and me. Then he turned back to Julian. “But this time I think you’re wrong.”

  The boy shook his head. “No, I’m not. Mr. Waverly can do it.” He looked at Val. “When I was little, my mom sang me lullabies after I had nightmares. Do you know any lullabies?”

  Val smiled. “I do, Julian. That’s a good idea.”

  “It’s a stupid idea,” Christian said. “Start the engines, son. We’re heading back.”

  “Wait,” I said. I gritted my teeth. “Let’s try it again.”

  The dive master shrugged. Then he twisted his wrist to read his dive computer. “You’ve got time for only one more shot,” he said. “It’s now or never.”

  I threw a grimace at Val and then put on my mask. I bit down on the mouthpiece and dove under the waves.

  I never would have thought I’d get a panic attack. But there it was: a big gnarly monster living inside of me. And it would mess up our trip if I couldn’t figure out how to dive in dark places without becoming a danger to everybody else.

  I’d been in plenty of tight spaces before. Last year, when Val and I hid in the trunk of Bob’s limo, I didn’t panic. And I stayed calm when Andre Feret tossed us into an airless closet in Venice—along with the body of the assistant he had shot.

  But diving in the dark was different. Maybe it was the cold water squeezing my wetsuit. Maybe it was how my wrist-attached flashlight only pierced a few feet of the murk in front of me. Whatever it was
, the panic overwhelmed me, and I wanted nothing but to push myself off the bottom of the Chesapeake Bay, leap out of the water, rip off my wetsuit, and gulp fresh air—not the recycled stuff the rebreather pumped into my lungs.

  Fortunately, we were diving in only twenty feet, and we didn’t have to worry about decompression. An old culvert lay on the bottom, and our instructor was having us retrieve a stainless steel toolbox he had buried at the deep end. Val had done it the first time without a hitch, but this was my third and final attempt.

  “Ready?” Val asked. The rebreather’s regulators garbled our voices, but we could understand each other.

  “As much as I’ll ever be.” I kicked forward and glided up to the culvert. The entrance was lit by my and Val’s lights. One last glance back at Val and the dive master, and I swam into the opening.

  And my panic monster came hurtling back to join me in that tiny space in the middle of all the murk. My body screamed for me to return to land. My heart raced, and I let loose a strangled cry. My flippers thrashed in the water.

  I heard somebody on the intercom, barely audible over the din of my own heartbeats. What were they saying? I scrunched my eyes shut and balled my fists and tried to hear.

  It was Val, singing softly in Russian. It was a tune I had never heard before, and I couldn’t understand the garbled words, but listening to her voice calmed me down just enough to stop my thrashing.

  I pictured the waves of Val’s singing carrying me gently up the culvert. I kept my eyes closed, and I gave gentle kicks to propel myself along. And after a few minutes, my head bumped into something. I opened my eyes, and the toolbox gleamed in the beam of my flashlight. I had made it, with Julian’s idea and Val’s help. We’d be able to do this in Europe next week.

  That night, as we lay in our bed before the morning’s trip to Germany, I closed my eyes and could still feel the gentle rocking of the waves. I opened them to the moonlight and rolled onto my side. “What was that lullaby you sang in the water?” I asked Val.

  She smiled. “It’s not quite a lullaby. It’s a love song that tells of a beautiful girl dreaming for her prince.”

  I made a face. “You stopped my panic attack with a love song?”