Interfinity

by Bryan Davis

  “Nikolai Malenkov. I guess we’ll have to. He needs to know that someone’s out to kill Francesca. He can’t protect her otherwise.”

  “True, but I could keep an eye on her, help her find Solomon, kind of guide their steps until they meet each other.”

  “You want to be her guardian angel?” I asked.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Wouldn’t watching her take too much time?” Kelly asked. “I mean, you have your own life to live.”

  Gunther chuckled. “You probably noticed that I’m not exactly a normal guy. I mean, I’m a truck driver who believes this crazy story you’re telling me. I might not be the best student around, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that there’s a higher power behind all this multi-world weirdness. Maybe this is exactly what I was meant to do.” He shrugged. “I have one semester to go. I’ll find a job near Iowa City and be her invisible guardian.”

  Kelly gave him a peck on the cheek. “You’re a special man, Gunther.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’ll never forget you for this.”

  Gunther’s face flushed. “Just stay away from twisters for a while. I can’t be waiting for you out on wilderness roads every time you pick a fight with one.”

  When we arrived at the university, Gunther parked in the Galvin Center’s nearly empty lot. Only an MG roadster, an old red pickup truck, and a motorcycle occupied any of the fifty or so spaces.

  I jumped out and searched the area for Nikolai, hoping I could identify a younger version of Mom’s gentle music teacher. As I crossed the parking lot, Kelly hurried to join me. “Any sign of him?”

  “Not yet. He said he’s driving a Volvo. I told him what the van looks like, so maybe he’ll find us.”

  “Has it been an hour?”

  I checked my watch. “Just about. He should be here soon.”

  Seconds later, a light blue Volvo turned into the parking lot and pulled in next to the van. The driver, a thin-faced man with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, lowered his window and glanced around nervously before speaking. “Are you Nathan Shepherd?”

  “Yes.” I bent to address him at eye level. “Nikolai?”

  “Yes, yes.” He stuck his head out the window and lowered his voice. “Where is Francesca?”

  I pointed at the van. “In there. I thought you said you were bringing your wife.”

  “I was, to be sure, but I received a call immediately after yours warning me not to retrieve Francesca. It was a man, a friendly man, actually, who said I would be endangering her life.” He checked his rearview mirror and glanced at the fine arts center before continuing. “I couldn’t leave you waiting for me, so I sent my wife to a safe place and came alone.”

  “Did you notice if anyone was following you?”

  He nodded. “When I left my house, a green pickup truck was parked at the curb two blocks away. I am sure I saw the same vehicle later on the highway, but it passed me quite some time ago. The driver paid no attention to me as he went by.”

  “That’s not good.” I straightened and scanned the area. Behind a tree near a house across the street, a man spied on us with binoculars. I quickly averted my eyes. “Don’t look around, but we’re being watched.”

  Nikolai stiffened, and his voice grew jittery. “Do you have a suggested course of action?”

  “We have to lose him, maybe do something he won’t expect.” I looked at the entrance to the center — three double doors bordered by brick columns that rose to the roof. We could hide in there and formulate a plan. “How well do you know this place?”

  “Quite well. I have performed here three times. I chose this meeting place because of my familiarity with it.”

  “Can you lead us to the stage?”

  “Of course.” Nikolai opened his door and got out.

  I collected my mirror and violin from the van, while Gunther woke Francesca. Although tear tracks stained her cheeks, she had stopped crying. When I explained the option of her going to live with her violin teacher, she offered a whispered okay and said nothing more as we walked to the building.

  When we passed through the front door, the lovely sounds of Dvořák’s magnificent cello concerto greeted our ears. Somewhere, a cellist had just begun an early measure of the solo portion and hit every note with vigor and ringing clarity.

  “The stage is in there,” Nikolai said, nodding toward an open door at the end of a hallway.

  Something flashed near my hand. I lifted the mirror. The reflection slowly altered, changing from my tired pale face to a dim room. As the image sharpened, a small stuffed rabbit came into view. I whispered, “Mr. Bunn?”

  Nikolai gave me a curious glance. “Who?”

  “A stuffed rabbit named Mr. Bunn,” Kelly said as she looked over my shoulder. “What does it mean?”

  “Let me think.” Since the rabbit lay back in the van, the reflection was far out of place. Why would the mirror show it to me? And why was I thinking of the mirror as an object that had a will and a purpose? Because the girl in red kept appearing in it? If she acted as the mind behind the mirror, what was she trying to tell me?

  I looked closer. Around the rabbit lay wads of black fabric. Where did that come from? It wasn’t in the van, at least not yet. Did that mean I would have to look for the material while we searched for a way to dodge the guy with the binoculars?

  “I’m working on an idea.” I strode through the door and hurried down the stairs at the side of the seating area, then climbed up to the stage. As I passed the cellist sitting at the middle of the raised platform, I gave him a nod. “Nice touch.”

  The cellist, a young man with long arms and a bright smile, lifted his bow. “Thanks.”

  “Would it interrupt your practice if I have a look around?” I asked.

  “No. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” I continued into the backstage area. As the others caught up, I scanned the paneled gray floor. “Look for a lot of fabric — maybe sheets, robes, cloaks, something like that.”

  “Curtains?” Kelly lifted a wad of black material, revealing a second, similar wad underneath.

  After setting the violin and mirror down, I picked up the corner of the second heap of fabric — a theater curtain. These could be used as a disguise, or maybe a ruse to throw our stalker off track. “I have an idea. Francesca, do you mind if Gunther carries you?”

  She tilted her head in a dubious manner. “I guess it’s okay.”

  “Good.” I nodded at Gunther. “Go ahead. Like a cradle.”

  “As long as she doesn’t mind.” He picked her up and held her aloft. “Comfy?”

  “Sure,” she said, one arm around his neck. “No problem.”

  “Now the next step.” I draped the curtain over Francesca and tucked it around Gunther’s arms. “Can you breathe all right under there?”

  Her muffled voice penetrated the fabric. “It’s smelly, but I’ll be fine.”

  “This shouldn’t take long.” I held out my arms, fashioning a second cradle. “Okay, Kelly, up you go.”

  She pointed at herself. “You’re going to carry me?”

  “Sure. All bundled up, no one will know the difference between you and Francesca.”

  “All right, but no jokes about me being short.”

  With one arm on Kelly’s back and another behind her knees, I hoisted her into my arms. “Gunther will take Francesca to the van while you and I go with Nikolai in his car. That way, the stalker will probably think I have her.”

  She laid her arm around my neck. “We could add to the deception.”

  “How?”

  Kelly nodded toward Francesca. “She took her shoes off.”

  I glanced at her. As Kelly had said, Francesca’s bare feet protruded from under the curtain.

  “So,” Kelly continued, “if we put my shoes on her and leave my bare feet uncovered, the stalker will be more likely to think I’m her.”

  “Great idea.” I turned to Nikolai. “Will you make the transfer?”

  �
�Of course.” Nikolai pulled Kelly’s shoes and socks off and carried them to Francesca.

  Kelly wiggled her toes. “I have cherry-red polish on my nails.”

  “Then pull your feet in,” I said. “We’ll have to count on the shoes to convince him.” I turned toward Nikolai. “Would you please cover Kelly with the other curtain?”

  “Gladly.” After Nikolai tied the second shoe on Francesca, he draped the other curtain over Kelly, covering her toes. “I will get your violin and mirror.”

  “Curl up,” I said to Kelly. “Try to make yourself smaller.”

  She shifted around under the curtain and nestled her head against my chest. “How’s this?” she asked, her voice muffled.

  “That’ll do.” I pushed out a quick breath. “Good thing you’re a lightweight.”

  Her voice sharpened. “I weigh one twenty!”

  “Feels like one nineteen. All muscle, I’m sure.” With Gunther and Nikolai at my side, I walked toward the stage’s stairway. As I passed the cellist again, I gave him another nod. “Keep up the good work.”

  He stared at me with his mouth open. “Uh … thanks.”

  When we reached the door, I whispered to Gunther, “Don’t look at the stalker. Let’s just load them up and get out of here. I’ll head north. You head south. Once we’re sure no one’s following, we’ll meet where you picked us up.”

  Gunther shifted Francesca a bit higher. “Sure thing.”

  Nikolai jogged ahead and opened the back doors to the van and his Volvo. I laid Kelly on the backseat of the Volvo while Gunther put Francesca in the van’s rear cargo area.

  After closing the car door, I extended a hand toward Nikolai. “Mind if I drive? If someone’s trying to kill Francesca, it could get dangerous.”

  “An excellent suggestion.” Nikolai gave me the keys. “I am a rather squeamish driver.”

  While I started the car, Nikolai hurried around to the passenger’s side and set the violin and mirror on the floor in front of him. At the same time, Gunther boarded his van and fired it up.

  After giving Gunther a nod, I eased out of the parking lot and headed for the main highway. “I’ll take a direct route to see if he’s following us.”

  Kelly spoke up from the backseat. “Do I have to stay hidden and miss all the action?”

  “Probably better. If anything happens, I’ll give you a blow-by-blow.”

  When we reached the Interstate, I turned east and punched the accelerator. The rearview mirror revealed no green pickup and no obvious followers.

  After a minute or two of silence, I asked Nikolai, “Can you help me solve a mystery?”

  “I will try.”

  “Remember that night at Ganz Hall in Chicago when a double murder took place?”

  “Yes, of course. My wife and I played in the quartet. It was a frightening night indeed.”

  “What happened? Do you know who the victims were?”

  “I will tell you what I know, which isn’t much. Helen and I stayed after the performance, because a young violinist who played before we did wished to speak to us about Vivaldi, his favorite composer. The three of us sat on stage for a long time. Eventually, someone turned the lights off without realizing we were still there. We thought it amusing at first and simply went on with our conversation. Soon, however, someone entered the side door and set up a floor-standing mirror.

  “We guessed that he had not seen or heard us, so we stayed quiet to see what his intentions were. He went out, and moments later, he and another man brought in two coffins and arranged them on tables on the opposite side of the stage.

  “Since we could see bodies in the coffins, we became quite nervous and tried to remain perfectly quiet, but one of the men, a tall, pale-looking fellow, saw us. The two men became violently aggressive toward us, so we defended ourselves. Unfortunately, the only weapons we had were our instruments, which did not survive the battle. After quite a skirmish, they captured us and locked us in a storage closet. It took some time, but we were able to break out. I sustained several serious cuts, as did the young musician, but my wife was unharmed.”

  “The police reported that two musicians from a quartet were killed and found in the coffins,” I said. “Is that true?”

  Nikolai sighed. “It is true that two members of my quartet were murdered, but they were not the bodies in the coffins, at least not the ones we saw before we were captured. I suspect that someone switched them.”

  I echoed his sigh. “At least you and your wife got away.”

  “A blessing for us, but we are still grieving the loss of our friends. They were a fine couple. Brilliant musicians.”

  After a moment of silence, Kelly piped up from the backseat. “Now we know why you didn’t make it home on time.”

  “Yes, we stayed overnight in the hospital and answered the authorities’ questions the next morning.”

  Something green in the rearview mirror caught my attention. The pickup truck shifted from one lane to another, then out of sight behind a bigger truck. “I see the pickup. It’s a couple of hundred feet back.”

  Nikolai turned and looked. “Does he appear to be following us?”

  “Let’s find out.” I pressed the accelerator. “If you don’t mind, would you play something on the violin? And I’ll need the mirror.”

  He laid the mirror in my hand and pulled the violin from its case. “This is a strange concert venue, but I will do as you say.”

  “Just watch.” I set the mirror at my side. “Explaining would take too long.”

  “What shall I play?”

  “Anything.”

  Nikolai raised the violin and began a Beethoven sonata. As we zoomed along in the right-hand lane, the pickup kept pace but stayed back, apparently satisfied to keep us in sight.

  After a few miles, we passed a police car hiding in a gap in the bushes at the side of the highway. As soon as the pickup zipped by, the car flashed its lights, roared onto the pavement, and gave chase.

  The pickup accelerated and rapidly closed the gap between it and our Volvo. Trouble was now only seconds away.

  I held the mirror on the dashboard and looked at the reflection — nothing but light blue. “That’s weird. All I see is blue, like the mirror’s pointing at the sky.”

  Kelly sat upright. “Since our cover’s blown, I guess it’s okay to be seen.”

  “Should be.” Ahead, the bridge over the Mississippi River loomed. “Pinch point coming up. No way to escape while we’re on the bridge.”

  A heavy jolt shook our car, shoving us close to the right shoulder. I wrenched the wheel back to the left while keeping a grip on the mirror. “The truck rammed us!”

  Kelly looked over the backseat. “Slow down. The cop’s closing in. Maybe he’ll help.”

  “We can’t count on anyone to help.” I pressed the pedal. “We’ll take our chances in Illinois.”

  As I sped across the long span, the truck bumped us again, this time pushing from the left rear corner. I tried to correct, but the Volvo slid toward the low concrete barrier that served as the bridge’s protective railing, slowing both vehicles to a crawl. “Kelly. Help me hold the mirror.”

  She thrust herself forward and lay prostrate over the seat while bracing the mirror. “Got it.”

  I grabbed the wheel with both hands and fought back, jerking to the left and banging the truck. Nikolai kept playing, though his bow strokes jiggled badly.

  “I still see the sky,” Kelly shouted. “What does it mean?”

  “No idea.” The steering wheel froze. As the passenger’s side panel squealed against the concrete, the truck turned toward the Volvo at a ninety-degree angle and locked us in place. Its engine roared as it shoved again and again.

  Kelly rocked back and forth, grabbing the wheel to keep from rolling. “He’ll push us over the edge!”

  Nikolai called out, “The police are running toward us, but I think they won’t make it in time.”

  Kelly latched on to my arm. “What’ll we do?�
��

  “Pray like you’ve never prayed before!”

  Nikolai switched from Beethoven to Handel’s Messiah. “If I die,” he shouted, his bow swaying wildly, “I will die in the arms of Christ!”

  In the mirror, the blue sky melted away, replaced by the stuffed rabbit. “The mirror changed,” I called as I fought with the wheel and pumped the accelerator. “I see Mr. Bunn again.”

  With a deafening rumble from its engine, the truck gave a final shove. Our car rolled over the barrier and dove headfirst toward the river.

  Still clutching the mirror, Kelly screamed. As the plunge’s G forces pressed me against the seat, I laid an arm over her back and gritted my teeth. “Just … hang … on!”

  Nikolai hugged the violin and case, closing his eyes as he prayed out loud. “Our Father, who art in heaven …”

  As the water raced toward us, the car began a slow spin. I reached for the door, pulled its handle, and kicked it open. The interior light flashed on. A splash erupted, and a fierce jolt rattled my bones. Then, darkness engulfed everything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A painful thump on my backside snapped my eyes open. My vision pulsed with photonegative blackness. I whispered, “Kelly? Nikolai? Where are you?”

  An excited voice shot into my ears. “Nathan? Where did you come from?”

  “Gunther?”

  “Yes. Can’t you see me?”

  I rubbed my eyes, clearing my vision. I sat cross-legged on the back cargo floor of the delivery van with a stuffed rabbit in my hand. Gunther sat in the driver’s seat next to Francesca, driving through light fog on a rural highway as he glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Now I can.” I looked around the dim van. Kelly lay facedown next to me, moaning. Beside her, Nikolai sat with the violin and case in his lap, leaning against the side panel. His eyes were open, but he seemed to be in a daze.

  “How’d we get here?” I asked.

  “I was going to ask you that,” Gunther said. “I heard a loud bump, and you just showed up. But I’m getting used to you doing impossible things.”

  “I guess we got transported again.” I turned Kelly over. As her arms tightened, clamping the mirror against her chest, she winced, accentuating a bloody gash across her forehead just below her scalp. Using my thumb, I wiped away a trickle of blood oozing toward her ear. “It was just in time, too. That pickup pushed our car over the side of the bridge, and the last thing I remember was splashing into the Mississippi.”