Zak and Gilly step out the front entrance of the well preserved, nineteenth century French Gare de Nice Ville train station, a beaux arts replica apparently of every other major railway station in France. Its elaborately decorated Louis the thirteenth architecture features a fanning glass and steel awning, which they have seen before, an over-arching pediment clock, also a familiar element, a tall steel mansard, and several stories filled with stone filigree. The clock is illuminated and stands out in what remains of the light of day.
Zak, holding his pack by a strap over his shoulder, looks up and down the line of cars and motorcycles parked on an island in front of the station. Gilly follows his gaze past a cluster of tall palm trees up the street.
“This is Thiers Avenue,” Zak offers.
“Cool,” says Gilly, trying to be encouraging. He slept the whole way on the LGV while Zak planned their next move and is feeling guilty about it.
“We need to get to the Gare Thiers.”
“Thiers station?”
“Yeah. They have a tramway. I think it’s gotta be this way. Follow me.”
Zak takes off and Gilly notices very quickly that he’s not exactly on a leisurely pace. They pass a bus stop and take a cross walk across a busy internal drive where a bus is parked and people are loading on the other side. It is the end of the working day and there are commuters everywhere on the sidewalks and busy driveways. They skirt a bunch of parked motorcycles, the railing to the underground and a kiosk sign advertising some event. The sidewalk widens as they pass the end of the block long train station and come up on the boxy white tramway building, where they run inside to get tickets before lining up on the street by a white fence. Nearby is an overhead freeway. They wait on Mathis Service Road by benches filled with people tired at the end of their day and in a hurry to get home when a sleek urban tram pulls up.
Zak and Gilly board with the crowd, and Zak tries to contact Kadin Sa’d using his phone, only to find that he has no signal from inside the train.
“I think we should get off someplace so I can call Sa’d,” he tells Gilly.
The tram continues South toward the Bay of Nice, but before it gets there it enters a wide two block plaza known as Massena Square. The buildings around the square are all the same red brick, four story structures, as orderly and decorous as finely iced cakes, possessed of tall arched colonnades on the first floors to provide entry to shops and stores. Above the colonnades are numerous windows with delicate white shutters, some open, some closed. The plaza’s pavement is a black and white checkerboard, crossed by embedded tram lines and rows of high street lights with triple globes. It is a Dali-esque sight, complete with the chiaroscuro shadows imposed by the setting sun.
Standing taller even than the street lights are seven, resin life-sized human figures seated on top of poles, each on his or her own pole, luminously lit from inside in colors of blue, red, green, yellow and violet. The colors of each figure change constantly to suggest a conversation going on between them. In fact the installation is known as the Conversation at Nice. It is also known as the Seven Statues at Massena Square. The plaza is filled with people who have just left work. They cross hurriedly and purposefully across it in every direction. As the light of day fades the lighting of the figures gives them more prominence, drawing the attention of the passing crowds, an eerily glowing display in a very busy place.
Zak and Gilly are drawn to the scene. They get off at the end of the square near a large round fountain with immense sculptures of bulls. The tram stops just where it begins to turn north toward the Acropolis. Bollards mark the path of a street across the square and near the fountain. Gilly stares at the dialoging statues. Zak gets on the phone to Sa’d, stepping away from the noise of the water fountain.
“”Hello?” comes the query from the other end of the line.
“Mr. Sa’d? I’m Zachary Miller.”
“Oh yes. Of course. Sykes.” Kadin responds, invoking the name of the only person they know in common.
Kadin stands backstage of the Apollon theater at the Acropolis. A large set of mechanized ropes and pulleys and a control panel sit unattended nearby. Connor studies the panel, having just reconnoitered the various rooms at the back of the stage. Samira sits on an idle chair, putting finishing touches on Kadin’s speech on her pad. Jeanne Mellot and her apparent beau Mathieu Severin are engaged in conversation nearby. So are several other members of the speaker’s panel and their guests.
“That’s right. We met Mr. Sykes,” replies Zak, “and he suggested we contact you. We’re . . .”
“In Nice I hope,” Kadin finishes for him.
Zak smiles, his eyes watching the colors continue to change the resin figures sitting high on their poles. The while of the square is framed against a dark purple sky and the lighted plaza. Gilly turns and watches Zak smile.
“Right. We’re at Massena Square and on our way,” says Zak.
“Very good,” Kadin looks up at the stage flats floating in the fly tower above and other set decorations hanging from ropes far above his head. “I’ll be speaking in a few minutes. Come to the big theater. You can catch me after I’m done.”
“That would be really great!” Zak replies with enthusiasm.
“No problem,” Kadin says, sounding casual.
Zak returns to Gilly, who is facing Nice’s ongoing conversation.
“He’s about to speak at the main hall. We’ll catch him afterwards,” Zak says. In the lights of the installation change color, Zak sees how they suggest a kind of animation.
“We guessed right,” Gilly says.
“About him coming here?”
“Yeah.”
Other things are on Gilly’s mind.
“You give that thing away and you won’t have anything to bargain with to get Kim back. You know that right?” Gilly asks.
“You’ve got a point.”
Zak’s hand goes to the right pocket of his pants, involuntarily touching the flash drive that he is now used to keeping there. How many times a day does he check that he still has it? In his mind, every thought of Kim is conjoined with the drive.
“Let me ask you something,” Zak asks.
“Sure.”
“Do you really think they’ll just let her go?”
Gilly shakes his head.
“Man, I really don’t know,” Gilly replies.
Chapter 67
On Fire Page 66