The Music Trilogy

by Kahn, Denise

  “Doctor, will he make it?”

  “Fortunately or unfortunately, yes, Captain. In his place I would not want to. We have to get him to Miami, to the burn center there.”

  “I will alert Nassau. We should be there in two hours. Have you been able to find out who he is yet?”

  “No, but I think he is Spanish or South American. He mumbled something. The only words that were clear to me were “Davina, Davina.” That was the only thing I could distinguish. Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Davina?” the Captain repeated. “No. Well, I’ll be on the bridge should you need anything, or if our friend tells you anything else,” he said turning to the door. “Wait. That singer, Davina, Davina Walters. That’s the only Davina I know of.”

  The Captain had seen footage on the news of the Orange Bowl explosion the week before. And now he remembered an all-points bulletin via ship’s radio about a downed plane and the Spanish diplomat Alejandro Del Valle. Could it be? But what was he doing in the middle of the ocean adrift?

  Captain Nelson went to the bridge. He radioed Miami Police. He was put through to Sergeant Ernesto Martinez.

  Martinez almost choked on his Cuban coffee. “Captain, would you please repeat that,” he said rising out of his seat.

  “We have a man on board we rescued from a raft. I believe he is Mister del Valle, Davina Walters’ fiancé.”

  “Are you sure it’s him?”

  “Perhaps. He is not in good shape. Our doctor on board says he must get to your burn center immediately. We will be in Nassau in two hours and he should be in flight in less than three. It is quite beyond me how this man survived. Judging from his beard growth, he must have been at sea about seven or eight days.”

  “Captain Nelson, I commend you.”

  The Bahamian was pleased. “I thank you, Sergeant.”

  Martinez immediately called the Spanish Ambassador.

  “Buenos dias, Sargento, how are you?”

  “I’m fine sir, how are you and your lovely wife?”

  “Most bruises have healed.” The Ambassador and his wife had been at the concert and both of them had been trampled by spectators.

  “I’m very glad to hear that, sir,” Martinez said and then he got to the point. “I am calling about Alejandro del Valle.”

  “I see,” the Ambassador said, although he didn’t, and he wondered what the detective really wanted. He knew too much already. “What about him, Sergeant?”

  “He was found about an hour ago by a Bahamian coast guard. He’s being flown to Miami Burn Center as soon as they reach Nassau, which will be in approximately two hours. I am told he’s in bad shape.”

  “I see. When you say bad shape, do you mean mentally or physically?”

  “Physically for sure, mentally I don’t know.”

  “I see. Will you be meeting the plane?”

  “Yes. It’s landing at Opa Locka.”

  “Sergeant, this matter is of the utmost secrecy.”

  “Is it alright for me to inform his family?”

  “No. No, no, definitely not. Nobody can know. We must wait and learn more about his condition and what exactly happened that night on the plane.”

  “Very well.”

  Martinez knew that it was appropriate, professionally at least, to respect the ambassador’s wish for secrecy. But he was not entirely comfortable with it. If Davina knew about Alejandro, it could only help her. She would recuperate faster. He dwelled on his thoughts for a while and then picked up the phone. He called Jacques Laffitte.

  “Jacques, this is Ernesto. Can you meet me in a couple of hours at the Opa Locka airport? Six o’clock? I can’t tell you why.”

  “Alright. I’ll just call Monique and let her know that I’ll be late.”

  “Don’t tell Monique where you’re going.”

  “Is this pertaining to Simon Grady?”

  “Not exactly. I’m sorry but I can’t discuss this right now over the telephone.”

  “I will meet you at six then.”

  “I’ll have one of my men pick you up half an hour before.”

  “I shall be waiting.”

  Jacques and the plainclothes police officer drove to the airport north of Miami in an unmarked police car. Jacques had an odd feeling, but he couldn’t place it. His stomach was in knots and he couldn’t comprehend why he was so uneasy. They drove through security and parked alongside Martinez’s car.

  “Ernesto, what is going on?” Jacques asked as they shook hands. An ambulance came through the gates and turned toward the airfield. “Are we waiting for someone?”

  “Yes, Jacques, as a matter of fact, we are.”

  “Who? Why all this secrecy?”

  “There is a plane due in from Nassau at six. They are transporting a man. No one is supposed to know.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “Even you, Jacques, are not supposed to know.”

  The Frenchman looked blankly at the policeman.

  “I am under strict orders, but the case is exceptional so I decided to let you know. I’ve got to let someone know! Maybe you can be of some help, but please, you must not mention to anyone what we’re doing here. I am going against the rules.”

  “I understand. No, no I don’t understand. Who are we expecting in that plane from Nassau?”

  “They rescued him a few hours ago.”

  “Alejandro…” Jacques whispered.

  Martinez nodded. “A Bahamian boat found him, and he is pretty sure that it is Alejandro.”

  “But not certain.”

  “Certain enough. Jacques, he’s in pretty bad shape. The captain seemed to think that Alejandro’s survival was a miracle in itself.”

  They watched the plane land. Jacques could feel his heart pounding. He climbed the portable stairs behind Martinez, but he was not prepared for what he saw. He cringed at the sight of the man being loosened from the safety straps. A light sheet covered him but did not touch his naked body. His wounds were bleeding from open sores where his skin and flesh had peeled off. Intravenous bottles hung from oddly shaped hooks above his frail frame. Jacques had to look twice to make sure it was Alejandro. The once handsome face reminded him of a skull in a bad horror movie. He had lost an enormous amount of weight and he was in a great deal of pain. The slightest touch made him scream. Jacques’ eyes filled with tears.

  Martinez put a hand on Jacques’ shoulder. “You’ve got to be strong, for both of you. It will be a long road to his recovery.”

  Jacques nodded. He could not speak. He was thankful that Alejandro was alive but at what cost? He accompanied Alejandro in the ambulance to the hospital. The Frenchman caressed the top of Alejandro’s head, all the while murmuring words of hope and praying that his friend would be able to return to a normal life.

  Martinez met them at the burn center. “Take it easy,” he told Jacques.

  “I keep wondering if he wouldn’t be better off if Davina was made aware.”

  “I know. I’ve thought of that too. But we can’t, Jacques. We can’t say anything until we get an okay from the Spanish embassy. An envoy is on his way. I’ll ask him as soon as he arrives.”

  Jacques nodded. He would wait, despite his growing depression. His patience had worn thin. Time was a healer, everyone said, and as with Monique and Davina, Jacques now had to deal with yet another wait, this one for Alejandro.

  The envoy from the Spanish Embassy, when he arrived, was adamant that no one know about Alejandro’s rescue or his whereabouts, not even the fact of his existence. Even the hospital staff could not know.

  “Apparently, Alejandro was on a delicate mission,” Martinez tried to explain to Jacques, although he himself did not understand the need for such secrecy. “It’s a direct order from the Spanish Ambassador. Alejandro has been registered incognito.”

  “But what happens when he wakes up? Surely Alejandro will want to see Davina and possibly myself as well. What do we do then?”

  “Davina doesn’t k
now and you don’t know anything either. For now we leave it at that. You may not speak to the doctor. If you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to ask them for you.”

  Martinez could see that Jacques was irritated. “Please, my friend, I know this is difficult for you but he is a Spanish subject and we must abide by Spain’s wishes.”

  “What do they know about a man’s feelings? About his personal life? Why don’t they just leave him alone! He’s been through hell! And if I know Alejandro, the best thing for him now is to call Davina and tell the poor woman that her fiancé is alive and he needs her!”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but let’s at least see what happens when he comes around. I spoke to the doctor. Alejandro is under heavy sedation. They’ll be removing the dead skin and treating his wounds. It’ll take several hours and then they’ll give him antibiotics, painkillers and something to make him sleep. He probably won’t wake up until tomorrow. So the doctor suggests we go home. I told him about you and he swore not to tell anyone from the embassy. If you want to call in, ask for the condition of Alejandro Garcia.”

  “Garcia?”

  “Yes. Garcia. Very common name. But we keep his first name in case he wakes up.

  Jacques mouthed Martinez’s last words …In case he wakes up.

  Monique greeted her husband with an affectionate kiss. She saw immediately that he was troubled, but she made no mention of this. She knew he would tell her what it was in due time. “Bonsoir, chéri, how did it go today?”

  “More or less the usual,” Jacques said, hating his lie. “Where is Davina?”

  “She turned in early. She said she had a headache. I didn’t quite believe her. I think she just wants to be alone.”

  “That’s not like her. She hates being alone. She always wants people around her.”

  “Yes, chérie, but that is the way Davina is now. I think maybe this entire ordeal has become quite a mountain and she can’t seem to reach the peak. Maybe we should move out for a while and leave her alone. Maybe that would do her some good.”

  “You really think so? I thought the best medicine for her was company and friends, and the two of you are so close. Why do you think it would be better?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. I have this feeling that maybe we are a burden, maybe she wants to do things and she can’t because we are present, maybe she just wants to scream and shout and let her pain out and she doesn’t because we’re here. She wouldn’t want to upset us or her mother or Eleni.”

  “Monique, do you think that if Alejandro were alive, Davina would come out of this?”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Is this what troubles him now? Monique wondered. But of course Jacques knows what Alejandro means to Davina. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering what we could do, I guess. Anyway. How is Melina? And Eleni?”

  “Jacques, are you alright? I know you are tired, but I fear it is more than fatigue. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, chérie, I’m just tired.” He knew she was bound to see through him. “Would you make me a quick snack? I just realized that I’m a little hungry.”

  “Of course, I’ll go make something right away.”

  “Thank you,” he said, reaching for the telephone. He dialed Martinez. “Ernesto, I have a problem.”

  “Is Davina alright?”

  “Yes, I think so. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her. Everyone is fine. Except me.”

  “You?”

  “I don’t think I can keep this secret from Monique. She knows me too well. She’s too perceptive. One way or another, she is bound to find out.”

  “I was afraid of this.”

  “I’m sorry but I just do not know what to do. Ernesto, I must tell her. In the long run, it might be better for all, especially Davina and Alejandro.”

  “Alright, Jacques, I know wives are intuitive. Let Monique know, but no one else. No one, not Melina or Eleni and not Davina. Do I have your word on it?”

  “You have my word, and Monique’s as well. I guarantee it.”

  “Good, because as far as I’m concerned, I never told you or anyone else.”

  “I understand,” Jacques said. “Good night Ernesto.”

  “Good night, amigo. Get some rest.”

  When Monique walked back into the room with a sandwich for her husband, he seemed somehow different. It was too subtle for Monique to discern more. “Jacques, what have you done?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I left a few minutes ago, you looked depressed, and now you don’t. Very strange.”

  Jacques laughed. “I do feel better, and I was depressed.”

  “Yes? So, what’s her name, the sexy Swedish blonde you were just talking to on the telephone?”

  “Would you believe Ernesto Martinez? Not very Swedish. Or sexy.”

  “Okay, enough joking. Now tell me what is going on.”

  “I will tell you, but you must promise me, no one must know about this or Martinez will be in grave trouble.”

  “I promise. Tell me!”

  He told her.

  “I wish I could tell Davina,” he whispered letting his head fall forward. “He will need skin grafts. Oh, God, Monique, I’ve never heard a grown man scream like that. It was as if he was being tortured.”

  Monique bit her lip. I must be strong, she thought, for Jacques and for Alejandro, and Davina as well. It’s my turn, they need me, and they’ve all been through too much.

  Upon his arrival at the office in the morning, Jacques placed a call to the Burn Center to inquire about Mister Garcia. There was little change, the doctor said. Alejandro was sleeping.

  “He is sedated,” the doctor said. “I’m sorry that I have no further news.”

  “I see, thank you. May I come by later?”

  “Yes, relatives and close friends are always welcome. As a matter of fact, you can play an important role in the healing process.”

  “Anything we can do, and gladly. Thank you, Doctor.”

  Jacques next called Sergeant Martinez to say that he had told Monique, as he said he would. He also mentioned that he had just spoken to a physician at the Burn Center. “The doctor strongly recommends that friends and relatives come visit. He says this is part of the therapy, of the healing. It’s very important.”

  “Okay, Jacques, but remember, this is still confidential until we get the word.”

  “I understand. You can rest assured that we will not say anything to anyone.”

  But it made Martinez nervous. Who would be next?

  ♫

  BRAZIL

  CHAPTER 40

  Zeferino da Cunha went back home, that is, back to Brazil, although he did not plan to be away for long. As his plane descended over Rio de Janeiro and the Cristo standing vigilant above the city of light and darkness, he began to cry. His future bride should have been on this flight, sitting right next to him, holding his hand. Instead, he would meet his father alone.

  Senhor da Cunha spotted his son at Galeao Airport before Zeferino saw his father. He saw the pain in his son’s face and he saw in his eyes the reason for this visit. On the telephone with his father, Zeferino had been enraged as he explained his terrible loss, the love of his life, as if life itself, his own life, had been taken from him. The irony did not escape Carlos da Cunha, for now both father and son had lost their love, although by different twists of fate, one by a crazed killer, the other by disease.

  He knew his son’s agony because he went through the same agony with his wife. She was beautiful with a wonderful heart, but she became very ill, and she suffered terribly. Carlos took her to many doctors. He flew her to specialists in Paris, Switzerland, and the United States. No one could help. Carlos watched her die, slowly and painfully. He had a small boy he didn’t know how to care for and a flourishing business that was practically bankrupt because he had spent a fortune trying to save his wife, the woman he loved more than anyone and anything in the world.

  When she died, Z
eferino and his father had somehow drifted apart. But he needed his father now. When he saw his father at the airport gate, Zeferino longed to fall into his arms.

  Carlos indeed knew his son needed him now, he could feel it from their long embrace and Zeferino’s tears, tears he was helpless to control.

  “I’m sorry, Pai.”

  “Why are you sorry? Are you afraid that your tears mean you are less of a man? Your tears show that you have heart, but unfortunately, a broken heart.”

  They sat together nursing steaming espressos as they awaited their flight to Brasilia. Carlos saw it again in his son’s eyes, the reason he had come back to Brazil.

  “Believe me when I tell you, Zeferino, that I know what you are going through. I have been there myself.”

  “Yes, with mother.”

  “You know, I stayed with her until the very last moment, and when she died, I lost all hope. There was no joy anymore, no sense in pushing myself to make the business thrive again, no one to live for, no one to be happy or to grow old with. The only good thing I had done in that time was to find a nanny to take care of you. You as well had become a burden I didn’t want to face. I felt that I had failed you as well because I wasn’t able to save your mother. I drank. What little money I had left ran dry.”

  Zeferino had not heard this story before. His father had never told him how terribly he had suffered. How deeply he must have loved her, and how painful it must have been for him, a young man trying his hardest for his family. Zeferino listened attentively with growing admiration for the man he had always respected but never thought he deeply loved. But he realized now how much he loved him. He had been afraid of showing it, and now his father was finally opening up to him and proving how much he in turn had always loved his son.

  “What happened?”

  “I went to a man I grew up with. He told me off, set me straight.”

  “Who was this man?”

  “A man who made his fortune in peculiar ways.”