Largo said, “It’s unfair that everyone blames you. Isn’t there anyone who can tell the bullocks it wasn’t your fault?”
Vera shook her head. “People have, but it’s the nature of our time for them not to believe a word. I’m a foreigner and there were a lot of important people there to see Anita. Bluenoses, industrialists, politicians. In the current climate, it’s easier for the bullocks to arrest than to waste time investigating crimes.”
Largo remembered lying in agony in the cell with the beaten man. “I was in jail a week ago.”
“Then you understand why I would rather avoid the place.”
He nodded. “It was horrible. No one seemed to know what they were doing and I got the feeling it was deliberate.”
Vera pushed the cigarette case across the table. He shook his head politely. She said, “How did you get out?”
That wasn’t a question he expected. Largo was tired of lying all the time, but he didn’t want to tell her everything. He said, “Someone I know had connections I wasn’t aware of.”
Vera gestured with the hand holding the cigarette. “Then why are you wearing that mask? Isn’t your friend protecting you?”
Largo leaned on the table, remembering Branca calmly explaining to him that he was a Nachtvogel agent. “He wanted me to do things I didn’t like. We had a falling-out.”
Vera tapped out some ashes into her hand and tossed them under the table. “It happens,” she said. “Angels don’t always stay angels.”
“He was never an angel. Just the opposite. But why are you still here? Shouldn’t you have left the city?”
Vera nervously cut and recut a tarot deck as she spoke. “It’s not that easy. My name is everywhere. If I tried to use my travel papers the bullocks would be on me in a second.”
“If you could leave, where would you go?”
She said, “Among other considerations, somewhere no one has ever heard of Lower Proszawa, the Great War, or the Nachtvogel.”
Largo tried to picture it. “You’ll have to go very far away for that.”
“That’s the idea.”
“It’s a good one. I like it,” he said. “But how will you do it if everyone is looking for you?”
Vera put the cigarette in her mouth and held up a finger. “Ah, but no one is looking for Madame Tajemství. I just need travel papers.”
He remembered Margit and the printing press at the Black Palace. “I know someone with a printing press, but I don’t know if she can do that kind of thing.”
Vera cut the cards again and held them out to Largo. “Touch the deck,” she said. He tapped it with his index finger. She began laying out a hand. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I have friends too. They’ll help me.”
Largo looked back over his shoulder, half expecting the police to come charging in with their pistols drawn. He said, “Why are you working? Shouldn’t you be in hiding?”
“I need money to pay for the papers and for passage. I need money so I can eat.”
Largo held his hands on the table. “I’ve got money,” he said. “I’d let you have some, but I need it to help friends in jail.”
Vera moved the cards around. “Why would you do that? You don’t even know me.”
“I’d like to leave too, but I’m looking for someone. Once I find her, I don’t know what will happen. There are people after me and I don’t know anyone who can help me, much less get me travel papers.”
“So that’s it, then.” Vera looked down at the cards she’d laid out. “You’re either a nice young man or just a fool.”
That made him laugh. “I’ve been called the second a lot lately.”
“I’m not surprised. What’s your name?”
“Largo.”
Baal pinched off the burning end of her cigarette and tossed it on the floor. She put the rest back in the silver case. She half turned in her chair and said, “Anita. Come out and meet Largo.”
A moment later, Anita Mourlet emerged from behind the curtain where Vera had first appeared. Largo stood up. This close, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. But she was smaller than he’d thought she’d be. After the performance at the Golden Angel he’d thought of her as a giant, but she was no taller than Remy. “I saw you at the theater. You were amazing,” he said.
She wore a short cream-colored coat trimmed with a black fur collar. Largo was surprised at how plainly she was dressed. Anita said, “I’ve had better nights, but thank you.”
“My girlfriend is a performer too,” Largo said. “After your show, I think she’s a little in love with you.”
Anita mock-frowned. “Just a little? How sad. Is she with you tonight?”
Largo looked at a candle rather than the women. Talking about Remy was easier that way. “No. She’s gone. Vanished. The bullocks say she’s dead, but I don’t believe it,” he said. “She’s the reason I have to stay in the city.”
Anita picked up the mask and held it over her face. Vera said, “Is she the reason you have to wear the mask?”
“Yes, just like you changed your hair and name,” said Largo.
Vera looked up at Anita. “Do you think your friends might be able to help this young man?”
She set down the mask and frowned. “I don’t know. Things are difficult right now and they get worse every day.”
Largo stared at her, not sure if he’d heard correctly. “You’re with the radicals?” he said.
“Don’t use that word,” said Anita. “That’s the government’s word. We simply want to stop another slaughter.”
“I would never have guessed.”
“I want to keep it that way, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone.”
Largo held up his hands. “I’m hiding from the world behind a Dandy mask. Who would I tell?”
Anita nodded at the tent entrance. “Did you see any bullocks outside?”
“A few.”
“Damn them. I have to get out of here and meet some people in the movement.”
“But she’s a bit recognizable,” said Vera. “You see the problem.”
Largo still couldn’t believe that he was sitting across from Anita Mourlet. What would Remy say? He knew in an instant.
Help her.
“I know every alley and back street in the city. I can get you where you need to be.”
Anita nervously toyed with the edge of her fur collar. “The police would spot me the minute I went outside.”
Largo held up the mask. “Not if you wear this.” He handed it to her.
“What about you?” Anita said.
“I doubt regular patrol bullocks know what I look like,” he said. “Try it on. Maybe you can pretend to be blind?”
“Maybe,” said Anita.
Largo thought it over. “If I keep my head down and you’re a blind Dandy, no one will look at us twice.”
Vera looked from Largo to Anita. She said, “In the absence of a good idea, it’s not a bad one.” She went into the back of the tent and came back with a cane, which she handed to Anita. “Here. Swing this around in front of you when you walk.”
Vera tossed Largo a leather hat with ear flaps. “You look like a fisherman. A bit. Anyway, it will help cover your face.”
Anita put a hand on Vera’s arm. “I’m scared, Vera. Can’t I just stay here?”
“And if the bullocks decide to start searching tents, what then? You’ll be safer in the city, away from the carnival.”
“Can I trust him?”
“I think so. And the cards said yes.”
Largo stood up. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
Anita let go of Vera’s arm. “If she says it’s all right, then I believe you.”
“Before we go, I have a question for you, Vera,” said Largo. “When you were telling fortunes at the Golden Angel, you refused to tell Remy’s. Why?”
“That was your girlfriend?” said Vera. “I’ll tell you the truth as best I can, though I’m not sure I can explain. But . . . she w
as an empty vessel.”
Largo looked at her. “What does that mean?”
“I looked for a person to read, but there was no one inside her.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Vera shrugged. “Neither do I, but here’s the interesting thing. She’s not the first I’ve seen like that. There are others.”
“Are you saying she’s dead? A ghost?”
“No,” said Vera. “She’s as alive as you or I, but she’s . . . empty. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
Anita came around the table to Largo’s side. She said, “Please, can we go? I’m frightened and I have to get across the city.”
Largo was both scared and frustrated. An empty vessel. He pointed to Vera. “I’m coming back and we’re going to talk about this more.”
“Don’t come back unless you’re wearing the mask. And bring my hat with you.”
“I promise.” Largo took the mask from Anita’s hands and put it over her face. “Are you ready?”
She took a breath and said, “Yes.”
“Wait a minute, you dunces,” said Vera. “She can’t go out in that coat. Dandies don’t wear mink collars.”
Anita looked at Largo. He said, “Take off your coat and leave it here. Put on mine.”
“It’s freezing outside. What will you wear?”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Both of you stay here,” said Vera. She left the tent, closing the flap when she was outside.
It struck Largo again that he was standing next to the real Anita Mourlet. Remy would love this so much. At least I’ll have one good story to tell when I find her. He looked at Anita. “Where am I taking you?”
“I’m staying with friends in Granate. Do you know how to get there?”
“With my eyes closed.”
“Good,” Anita said from behind the mask. “I’m smiling now. You can’t see it, but I am.”
Vera returned a couple of minutes later with a long oilskin jacket in her hands. She tossed it to Largo. “Try this on.”
Largo put it on, trying to move his injured shoulder as little as possible.
“You’re bleeding,” said Anita.
“Yes. A bullock took a shot at me yesterday. He mostly missed.”
“You need to have that looked at.”
“You can take him to dinner with the grandest doctor in Lower Proszawa,” said Vera. “But later. Right now, you both have to leave.”
Largo flexed his arms in the jacket. It was too large for him, but it was warm. “How much was it? I can pay you back,” he said.
Vera batted away the comment. “It belongs to Scheffler the strong man, and it didn’t cost a cent. I’ll tell him his fortune tomorrow and make it a happy one. He’ll be delighted.”
The two women embraced and Anita kissed Vera on her cheeks. She said, “Remember, you’re blind. Let Largo lead you.”
Anita nodded and held out her arm. Largo looped his around hers. “Here we go,” he said.
They paused for a moment outside the tent while Largo looked around for the police. When he didn’t see them, he tugged Anita forward. “Don’t forget to swing the cane,” he said.
Together, they walked slowly through the crowd to the front gate. As always with the mask, few people looked at them. At the edge of the carnival, three police officers were smoking and talking to the man in the ticket kiosk. Largo felt Anita’s arm tense against his. He patted it and kept them walking at an even pace. As they approached the exit one of the officers stepped back, blocking the way out. Largo realized that he’d left Rainer’s pistol in the side pocket of his coat. With Anita wearing it, there was no way he could get to it in time if the police tried to stop them. Her arm squeezed him even harder. It felt as if she was trying to pull away and run. Largo held her tight.
The police were still there when they reached the exit. Largo had no choice but to say, “Excuse me, Officer,” to the one blocking their way. Stupid bastard bullock, he thought, but he smiled as the officer turned. He frowned at Largo, then stepped out of the way when he saw Anita in the mask.
“Sorry,” he said. “Have a good night.”
“Thank you. You too.”
Anita gasped when they’d moved a few yards from the entrance. “It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for an hour.”
“You’re all right now. It’s just a little farther to my bicycle.”
Anita went rigid against him and stopped. “A bicycle? You don’t have a car?”
“I’m sorry. All I have is a bicycle.”
“Oh god,” she said. “Can you ride it with two people?”
“I’m a courier. I carry packages all the time. A person is no problem.”
“I suppose there’s no choice now. I couldn’t make it back to Vera’s tent without having a heart attack.”
“Me neither,” said Largo. “Trust me. This will be fine.”
“How long will it take to Granate?”
“If I go the direct route, a half hour at the most.”
“I suppose that’s all right,” said Anita.
“We’ll be fine. But I should take this.” Largo took the pistol from the coat and put it in his oilskin jacket.
Anita let out a breath. “Oh god.”
It was harder biking them to Granate than Largo had thought it would be. Not that Anita was large, but between her in Rainer’s heavy coat and him in the strong man’s jacket, the balance was all wrong. Plus, there was his injured shoulder. Instead of taking a half hour, it took forty-five minutes to reach the address in Granate. Largo was out of breath when they got off the bicycle, and the wetness on his arm told him that his shoulder was bleeding again. He walked Anita to the door of the little house.
She gave him back the mask and said, “I don’t know how to thank you.” Then a little guiltily she added, “I’d invite you in, but my friends don’t like new faces.”
“I understand. But do you mind if we switch coats? There are things in that one I need.”
When they traded coats, Anita asked, “What’s that under your arm?”
“A trench knife,” said Largo.
Anita looked at him. “You’re more formidable than I gave you credit for at first, Herr Largo.”
He took the pistol out of the jacket, checked the magazine, and put it back in his coat pocket. “I’m not entirely sure how I should take that,” he said.
“It was an attempted compliment. Sorry if I mangled it. I’m still a little shaky from the carnival and the bike ride.”
“If you say it was a compliment, I’ll take it that way. Have a good evening with your friends.”
He started away, but Anita put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“I was going to try one of the Dandy rooming houses.”
“Listen,” she said. “We should be done by midnight. Come back then and you can stay here.”
Largo took a step back, thinking of Parvulesco and Roland. “Thank you, but that’s not a good idea. They raided the last place I stayed.”
Anita took out her keys. “Bullocks don’t come to Granate unless there’s a fire,” she said. “Besides, one of our people is an operative. He lets us know if there’s trouble.” She took a key off the ring and put it in Largo’s hand. “Come back after midnight. I guarantee you it’s more comfortable here than a five-to-a-room flophouse.”
Largo looked at the key. The offer really did sound better than a night in a freezing tenement. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally. Then he laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Anita said.
“Me staying under the same roof as Anita Mourlet,” he said. “Remy would be so jealous.”
She smiled and said, “I’ll see you later.”
Riding away from the house was considerably easier than getting there had been. He had several hours to kill before he could return—if he decided to return at all. The metal mask still froze his face, but now it smelled of perfume, which was alternately
delightful and depressing. Delightful because it reminded him of Remy and depressing for the same reason.
What if she really is dead? This might be the last time I’m ever close enough to a woman to smell her living presence.
After riding to the familiar streets of central Lower Proszawa, Largo found that the weight of the mask was beginning to drive him a little mad. He wanted to rip it off and throw it in the bay or onto one of the patriotic bonfires burning throughout the city. However, he grew nervous as he pedaled the streets. Lurking on many corners were a new kind of armed Mara. They were the largest he’d ever seen, easily a head taller than the tallest man. People spoke to them and they seemed to respond, pointing as if they were giving directions, sometimes holding children while parents and men from the yellowsheets took photochromes. Largo looked up to see flying Maras gliding quietly overhead, little stars observing everything below. He thought of the glass lens eyes of the parakeet in Remy’s flat. Had someone been watching them through those?
As he rode, he caught fragments of speeches and cheering crowds. Eventually, he didn’t ride around the mobs but through them. He would make his way from the edge of the throng to the center in a series of long loops, eventually riding around the speaker several times before pushing out of the crowd again. He would applaud the speaker or pump his hand in the air or shake hands with strangers, all of whom thanked him for his various sacrifices. He bumped into police officers more than once. Most were apologetic, but the more he rode and the wilder the streets became, the less polite the police became. One grabbed him and almost pulled him off his bicycle.
“Show me your papers, Dandy,” he yelled. Largo patted his pockets and shrugged as if he couldn’t find them. The officer was on the verge of arresting him when the crowd closed in, shouting and shoving him. It was clear that the crowd wasn’t going to let the officer complete the arrest. As they circled the officer and held his arms, they stepped away from Largo, creating a small corridor he could ride through. He put his head down and veered out of the swarm, heading across town.
That was stupid, he thought. However, the sense of desolation brought on by the perfume wouldn’t quite let go. If I’m going to die or get caught tonight, there’s something I have to do. One last thing.
The Grand Dark Page 38