The String Diaries

by Stephen Lloyd Jones

  His hackles raised, the dog paused in the doorway, staring at the Főnök. He barked once.

  Behind him, the old man backed through the door, a paper sack of groceries under each arm. ‘Out of the way, Moses. Damned dog’s confused as hell since Gabriel turned up. I found a gun shop. Filled out all the forms but it’s going to be . . .’ He turned towards the group and his voice drifted away to silence as he noticed the woman on Hannah’s left.

  Moving to the counter, he set down the bags. His arms fell to his sides. He took a step towards her, his breath rasping in his throat. ‘Éva?’

  The Főnök’s face was a tumult of conflicting emotions. ‘Hello, Sebastien.’

  The old man tilted his head away to the side, his eyes losing their focus. When they returned to her, his jaw began to tremble and his hands began to shake. He looked down at his fingers, as if surprised that they should betray him like that And then his eyes widened and he lifted his hands to his face.

  ‘Sebastien, I—’

  ‘No!’

  ‘It’s OK. You—’

  ‘Don’t LOOK at me!’

  He was too old to run. Perhaps, if he had been younger, more agile, he would have tried. A terrible wail escaped him. Spying the french windows hanging ajar, he fled outside, covering his face with his hands. Staggering between the trees of the orchard, he clutched at his hair, his ears.

  The Főnök stood, her face a grimace of pain. A flush had appeared on her cheeks. ‘Leave this to me.’

  Hannah watched her follow Sebastien. She turned to Gabriel. ‘The woman he met as a young man. Éva. She’s your mother?’

  Gabriel nodded.

  Hannah turned her eyes back to the orchard. The Főnök had caught up with Sebastien. She took him by the arm and led him to the bench.

  Can you imagine the special agony of watching someone you love age and die, all within what seemed to you like a matter of years? Would you want anyone to experience that horror?

  Witnessing the pain on Éva’s face as she followed Sebastien had made Hannah see the hard truth of those words. What must it be like for Sebastien, too, to see the woman he loved, as young now as she had been when he had met her fifty or sixty years earlier? Éva’s beauty was undiminished by time. The four-score years that Sebastien had walked the earth were etched into every furrow of his face, were evident in every liver spot, every gnarled vein, every swollen knuckle. His hair had receded, his skin had sagged. His muscles had contracted, his joints had stiffened. His eyes – eyes that had perhaps caused Éva to mistake him for hosszú élet all those years ago – had remained a startling emerald. But everything else had changed, aged, worn away. To Hannah, he was a beautiful old man, headstrong and brave, unsentimental yet compassionate. But for all of that, it would have been churlish not to recognise the physical diminishment time had dealt him.

  Hannah wondered what Sebastien thought as he contemplated that diminishment. She wondered what he saw when he looked at Éva. And she wondered what Éva must see when she looked at the young man she had loved and saw him battered and made fragile with the passing of the years.

  Outside, the couple had sat down on the bench. Sebastien slumped forwards, staring at the ground. Éva talked softly to him. When she reached out and laid one hand over his, he flinched, but accepted her touch.

  ‘Your mother explained a lot,’ Hannah said. ‘It doesn’t make Nate’s death any easier to face, but she made me see that it’s not just Leah and I affected by all this.’

  ‘She told you everything?’

  ‘She said you were likely to be one of the last hosszú életek.’

  ‘What an honour, eh?’

  Mirroring the Főnök’s actions, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. ‘Are you OK?’

  Gabriel looked down at her hand, withdrew his own from beneath it and nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  On the kitchen floor, Moses raised his ears. Moments later, Gabriel looked towards the window.

  ‘What is it?’ Hannah asked, frowning.

  ‘Vehicles,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Approaching the house.’

  CHAPTER 24

  Aquitaine region, France

  Now

  Hannah leaped up from her chair the instant she heard Gabriel’s words. Her scalp prickled and her skin shivered, as if an army of beetles marched across her flesh. The conviction seized her that this was finally the moment; this was the beginning of her reckoning with Jakab. Leah’s future would be won or lost today on the strength of her actions. The burden of that responsibility wicked the blood from her stomach and sent it crashing through her arteries. She put her hands out to the table, her vision doubling, dizzied and overwhelmed by her emotions, fearing that she might fall to the floor.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  She shook her head at Gabriel. No time to explain. No time to be weak.

  They were in the wrong part of the house. The kitchen’s french windows opened on to the orchard and the path down to the river. From here, they were blind to the approach of vehicles from the road.

  But there’s no way Jakab can have found us. Surely? I’ve been so careful. Nobody else knew about this place. Just Nate and I. And we kept it so secret.

  But that’s not entirely true, is it, Hannah? Who knows what happened during your three-day disappearing act into oblivion. You handed all responsibility to Seb. All the checks you would have made, all the precautions you would have taken, handed to an old man you barely know. Jakab could have followed you through any number of mistakes and you’d never know which of them led him here.

  Gripping the worktop, Hannah blinked away the fog of her thoughts, forced herself to focus. She had no time. And a huge decision to make. Did she better protect Leah by finding her a hiding place, or by keeping her close? How would she have felt, at the same age, knowing that danger approached and being asked to face it alone? Hannah knew the answer to that should not influence her decision. But it had been less than a week since the girl had watched her father murdered by a monster masquerading as her grandfather. ‘Leah, stay close to me.’ Hannah crossed to the hall and ducked into the dining room.

  Two white Audi Q7s were bouncing up the track that bisected the wheat fields, kicking up tails of dust from their huge tyres. A third Q7 had parked where the track met the main road. Already, men were spilling from its doors. None of them wore uniform, but they organised themselves like a military unit, quickly sealing off the farm’s entrance.

  Hearing Leah’s rush of breath, Hannah glanced across at her. A single teardrop trembled on the girl’s right eyelash as she watched the approaching vehicles. ‘He’s coming, isn’t he? The man that killed Daddy.’

  Hannah opened her mouth to reply, and struggled to find any response. What response was there to a question like that?

  Leah turned to face her, and when she smiled the tear hovering on her eyelash spilled down her cheek. ‘It’s OK, I’m ready. I won’t let you down.’

  Hannah’s throat tightened. She swept Leah into an embrace, pressing her nose into the girl’s hair. It smelled of vanilla and green apples, of innocence and vitality, of trust and love and hope. Teeth clenched, she heard herself snarl out words in a voice feral in its savagery. ‘We’re going to beat him, Leah. I promise you. Today’s the last time you’ll have to hear the name Jakab. I swear, I’m going to end this. For you. For Daddy. You’re going to be safe. I promise you, Leah, you’re going to be safe.’ Noticing that she was clutching the girl far too hard, Hannah kissed the top of her daughter’s head and released her grip.

  Leah’s lips were pressed together in a firm line. Her face was flushed. She lifted her chin and wiped the tear from her cheek. ‘I’m a bit scared but not too much, really. I think the Bad Man should be more scared of you.’

  Hannah laughed at that. She felt the small release of pressure fort
ify her. ‘Come on, hold my hand. Do what I say, and remember everything I’ve taught you. A new life starts today.’

  Her throat was dry, and her skin still felt as if insects crawled over it. But a fire was growing inside her, fuelled by outrage that her daughter should endure emotions like these and by a determination to destroy this scourge upon them, this curse. Too many lives had been lost. Too many dear people.

  Behind her, Hannah heard the kitchen door slam. She whirled around. When Sebastien appeared in the doorway with Éva, she puffed her cheeks with relief that the intruders had not breached the house. The old man’s eyes were rimmed red but alert. He joined her at the window, scowling when he saw the 4x4s accelerating towards them.

  Hannah turned to the Főnök. ‘Could they be életek? Your guards?’

  Éva shook her head. ‘Too many of them. Too crude.’

  The lead Audi arrived at the crescent driveway in front of the house. Losing no speed, it swerved and bounced on to the rutted trail that led to the orchard at the rear. The second vehicle braked hard, sending up a shower of gravel and dust. It slid to a halt a few feet from the dining-room window. Its engine died.

  A breathless stillness descended. The Audi’s radiator grille was so close that Hannah could hear the tick and ping of its engine block as it began to cool. Sunlight sparkled off its windscreen, turning the glass into a mirror that shielded its occupants from view.

  ‘They’re not életek,’ Sebastien said. ‘They’re Eleni.’

  Hannah lifted her eyes to the ex-signeur, daring him to meet her gaze. ‘You brought Eleni here?’

  His jaw tightened. When he faced her, his eyes were bright with resentment. ‘I didn’t bring them, Hannah. I—’

  ‘Then tell me how they managed to find us.’

  ‘I had to confide in someone! I needed to get you and Leah out of the country. Do you think I could have flown you here safely, could have avoided your names appearing on passenger lists, without Eleni help? I couldn’t reach you, Hannah. You’d shut me out.’

  She cringed at his words, her anger at him receding as quickly as it had arrived. For a moment she fought to hold his gaze. Then she turned away from him, her cheeks hot with shame. He had done everything he could to protect them. And still she castigated him. ‘Seb, I’m sorry. You’re right.’

  He batted away her apology, turning back to the window as the Audi’s passenger door swung open.

  The man who climbed out of the car was nearly as old as Sebastien. His grey hair was oiled and combed to one side, and his moustache was carefully trimmed. When he moved, it was with the exaggerated care of one whose joints pained him, and when he glanced towards the house, Hannah thought she caught a trace of apprehension in his eyes.

  ‘Oh, goddamn it,’ Sebastien muttered in disgust.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘That old fool is Dániel Meyer. Dániel is acadeim. One of the ülnökök.’

  ‘One of your good guys?’

  Sebastien glanced at her and she saw his pained expression. ‘He’s a good guy. Whether we can trust him or not is another matter.’

  But you did, Seb. And now he’s here.

  And you keep blaming him. Even though it’s not his fault.

  Dániel Meyer ran a finger around the collar of his shirt and went to the front door. He knocked.

  To Éva, Hannah said, ‘That man you brought here with you. Illes. Can you reach him?’

  ‘I’ve sent him a message.’

  ‘How quickly will he get here?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  Sebastien snapped his fingers and gestured at the door. ‘Back into the kitchen, all of you. Let me handle this. I know Dániel. I’ll find out what he wants.’ To Éva and Gabriel, he said, ‘He doesn’t know your identities. He won’t know that you’re hosszú életek. Let’s keep it like that.’

  Hannah searched Sebastien’s eyes, willing herself to detect any trace of duplicity, any hint of betrayal, and found none. She held out her hand to Leah. ‘Seb’s right. He knows these people. Come on, let’s go.’

  When she returned to the kitchen, Hannah saw four men standing in the plum orchard. One of them held the chains of two adult Vizslas. The stranger met her gaze, his eyes flat.

  She heard the latch on the front door disengage. A weary voice said, ‘I’m sorry, Sebastien. I had no choice.’

  Footsteps clattered down the hall and Dániel Meyer appeared in the kitchen. When his gaze found Hannah, she felt a twinge of recognition. Was his one of the faces she had seen during her hallucinatory journey from Llyn Gwyr to Le Moulin Bellerose?

  Meyer came to her and took her hands. ‘Hannah, my name is Dániel. You may not remember me; you probably don’t. I didn’t think I’d see you again, but now I find myself once more in your company I must tell you how incredibly sorry I am for your loss. Your husband’s death was a tragedy for us all. As was your father’s. I won’t be crass enough to suggest I know how loss like that must feel. I’m just glad that Sebastien managed to find you, and glad that our organisation was able to help in some small way by getting you here safely.’

  The quiet sincerity of his tone, and the compassion it conveyed, robbed her anger at his intrusion of much of its heat. Even so, she eyed him warily as he let go of her hands. ‘What are you doing here, Dániel?’

  Meyer pursed his lips at her question. He opened his mouth to reply but before he found any words Moses interrupted with a bark. The dog trotted to the windows, pacing up and down beside them. Gabriel tilted his head.

  ‘What is it?’

  Hannah didn’t need to wait for an answer. The sound was already a rhythmic chopping at the very limits of her hearing. Quickly it grew more distinct, more violent, more urgent, until she realised she was listening to the approach of a helicopter.

  My God, it’s coming in fast. Reckless.

  In the orchard, a whirlwind of autumn leaves began to dance. The whistling fury of the helicopter’s rotor blades and the bass thrum of its engine vibrated in Hannah’s chest and rattled the windows in their frames. She glimpsed the aircraft’s landing skids first, and then saw it touch down on a patch of open ground beyond the plum trees. It was black with yellow trim, a fat and angry wasp, with a belly full of men visible through its curved glass. To Meyer, she asked, ‘More of you?’

  The acadeim nodded.

  ‘Could you be any less subtle?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not a word our signeur would understand.’

  Sebastien thumped the window with his fist. He turned, face mottled red with anger. ‘You brought the signeur here, Dániel? Of everyone, you brought him?’

  ‘I told you I didn’t have any choice.’ Meyer turned back to Hannah, tugging at the wedding band on his finger. ‘Sebastien told me where you’d gone. And they knew it. I don’t know how, but they did. They’re desperate now. They’ll do anything to find the hosszú életek. They know time is running out, that Jakab is their best chance, that you are their greatest lead. It makes them even more determined. Ruthless. I don’t wish you any harm, Hannah. I don’t wish anyone any harm. Please just cooperate with them. For all our sakes. And soon this will be over.’

  ‘You betrayed me,’ Sebastien whispered, taking a step towards the acadeim.

  Meyer’s laugh was hollow. ‘I know you think I had a choice. You confided in me and when the pressure was on, I broke that confidence. So yes, maybe I did betray you.’

  Outside, one of the helicopter’s doors opened. A man jumped from the seat beside the pilot. The flesh of his face was soft and puffy and his eyes, hooded by low lids, made him look lazy and bored. He wore chinos too short for his legs. Their seams strained against his thighs. He pulled a wheelchair from the helicopter and unfolded it.

  ‘Sebastien, I’ve lost track of the years I’ve counted you as a friend,’ Meyer said. ‘Th
ere’s little I wouldn’t do for you if I could. But when I promised to keep this secret, it was never on the understanding that I’d risk my life for it. I’m sorry if that means you think I’ve played Judas. But I never agreed to play this game for these stakes. Look at me. I’m an old man now. I have a wife, grandchildren. Putting my life at risk was never part of the agreement.’

  ‘Your life?’ Sebastien scoffed. ‘You’ve always been soft, Dániel, but never as pathetic as this. Károly might spit and scratch, but I’m sure whatever the signeur’s done to frighten you this badly is just posturing. Since when did the Council become so fragmented that it threatened its own?’

  ‘Since you left,’ Meyer replied. ‘I doubt you’d recognise the organisation we’ve become.’

  ‘Even if you’re right, Károly is hardly in a position to threaten your life.’

  ‘No,’ Meyer agreed. He nodded towards the man who had emerged from the helicopter. ‘But he is.’

  Sebastien turned back to the window. He swore when he saw the chino-wearing stranger the acadeim had indicated.

  Hannah frowned. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Benjámin Vass,’ Sebastien told her. For the first time, she detected unease in the old man’s voice. It chilled her. ‘He’s the signeur’s second.’

  The nearside rear door of the helicopter swung open and another man jumped out. Vass snapped a command at him. Reaching into the aircraft, the man lifted out a third figure and lowered him into the wheelchair.

  Hannah stared at the chair’s elderly occupant. The skin of his face was as dry and crisp as dead leaves. Listless eyes stared out of shadowed sockets. She thought he could not have weighed more than seven stone.

  ‘The one in the wheelchair is Károly Gera,’ Sebastien said. ‘He’s the signeur.’

  Gabriel, silent until now, moved closer to the window. ‘The one you told me about last night?’