by G S Eli
“Professor Hermann! He was right! At zee castle. It’s the nail of Christ. The one with the powers,” Siegfried muttered with a heavy, German accent.
“Shhh,” Mila responded.
But Siegfried was too panicked to care. “Can’t you see…the political party, Victor, the priest! It’s all clear to me now. They’ll never let us be questioned!” he cried hysterically. He looked to the van’s back window and spotted Jack and Casey chasing them down.
“What the hell!” Mila said as he followed Siegfried’s gaze. Rising and moving closer to the window, Mila saw with amazement that Jack and Casey were chasing the van. A pack of feral dogs surrounded them.
Mila glanced at the driver. Was he looking in his rearview mirror? Had he noticed their pursuers? Mila couldn’t tell. But Siegfried gasped with surprise, and the officer glanced in his driving mirror to see what was going on with his prisoners. Mila knew he must have seen the two human pursuers, and perhaps even the dogs, for the police officer accelerated, leaving all hope for rescue behind. Mila saw his friends fall farther and farther into the distance as the van sped away.
Distraught and shivering in fear, the other man was praying the Hail Mary. He reached the end and looked across at Mila. “Pray for me, Gypsy,” Siegfried said fearfully.
“Me? Pray for you?” Mila answered, confused at the strange request.
“Don’t you see, it’s all true—it must be! Die hunds!” Siegfried responded, emphasizing the dogs.
But before Mila could ask what Siegfried was so afraid of or what he meant, something slammed into the front of the van, fast and hard. They were both tossed into the air, and as they tumbled to the floor, they caught a glimpse of the black SUV that had just slammed into the corner of the van’s driver’s side.
The force of the impact knocked the police vehicle onto two wheels. It careened over a curb, threatening to flip over before slamming back down on all four wheels. As it crazily careened about, Mila and Siegfried were tossed around, smashing repeatedly into the sides of the vehicle.
Mila was dazed and bruised from the crash. He tried to rise to his feet to see if he’d broken any bones. On his first attempt to stand, he felt a piercing pain in his right shoulder. It felt as if the limb had been nearly wrenched out of its socket. No doubt this was the consequence of suffering through the crash with his arms restrained. He cringed but managed to ignore the pain as he got to his feet. He couldn’t stand up fully because of the van’s low ceiling, but he could move around pretty easily.
Siegfried was on the floor groaning in pain. From the looks of it, he had hit his head. That’s when Mila noticed the driver slumped against the wire cage that separated them. The driver was most likely dead. In the rearview mirror, Mila could see that his eyes were open but stared forward lifelessly, and his face was covered in blood from a deep gash.
Mila turned away from the violent scene, looking at the floor instead. That’s when he noticed his keys. They must have fallen from his pocket in the crash. Mila immediately picked up the key fob and opened it, drawing out its lock picks. Using every bit of the agility that Gypsies were known for, he unlocked his own handcuffs. Even he was surprised at how quickly he escaped them. Then he lifted Siegfried into a sitting position and unlocked the other man’s cuffs as well.
“We’re in here! Help!” Siegfried shouted in pain, trying desperately to rise to his feet. He lost his balance and collapsed onto one of the seats.
Someone opened the passenger-side door and climbed into the front cab of the van. From where Mila sat, he couldn’t make out the face of the man who they believed had come to their rescue, only the back of his head, which seemed to be covered by some kind of knit cap. The stranger placed his finger on the neck of the driver, presumably to take his pulse.
“Tot,” the man announced, the German word for dead. Then he grabbed the van keys and slipped out of the cab. He slammed the door shut and headed around back.
Mila positioned himself near the doors so he could jump out once the good Samaritan opened it to rescue them. He watched through the window as the man unlocked the doors and then struggled to open them. They seemed to be jammed, no doubt from the crash. Siegfried was still trying to rise to his feet, but with no success.
“Don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself more,” Mila said to Siegfried, who sank back on the seat to await their rescue. Sirens wailed in the distance: an ambulance was on its way. With one swift break, the van doors burst open.
“Thank God,” Mila said. He could see two figures through the open doors of the van. Hopefully they were here to help. But then Mila noticed that the two men were wearing ski masks. These were no good Samaritans.
One of the men pulled a silenced pistol from his coat pocket and pointed it directly at Siegfried’s temple.
Oh shit! Mila thought as he stepped backward. Siegfried raised his hand in front of his face in a feeble effort to protect himself.
Pop! Pop! Pop! Three shots came from the gun. The first bullet ripped right through Siegfried’s hand and embedded itself in his temple. The other two shots were just insurance. As Siegfried died, the hitman aimed his pistol at Mila.
With nowhere to run, Mila covered his eyes with his hands. Oh, man, this is gonna hurt, he thought.
But instead of a gunshot, he heard a thump, then the snarling of a dog. Mila opened his eyes. The men were nowhere to be seen. Leaning out of the van, Mila spotted the gunman crouching low to the ground. Jack stood over him, raining down blows with his fists until he finally managed to tackle the assailant and knock his gun away. The other hitman was wrestling with a feral dog whose massive jaws were clamped tightly around his crowbar as he desperately held the mongrel back from sinking its teeth into his face. More dogs circled the crash scene, some of them barking while others howled like wolves.
“Are you OK?” Casey cried as she came into view.
“Yes, I’m fine! Get the gun!” Mila shouted.
Casey snatched the gun off the ground and aimed it at the fight. Mila quickly grabbed Jack’s shoulders from behind and pulled him off the beaten and bloodied man. The thug began to rise to his feet but stopped when he saw the gun Casey was pointing in his direction. The dog stopped mauling the other hitman and shuffled backward. The entire pack became silent, and the beasts stared at Casey as sirens wailed.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Mila said as he grabbed Casey’s arm.
Casey was entranced by the power of the gun as she pointed it directly at the man’s head. “They were going to kill you,” she said.
There was something cold and empty in her voice that sent a shiver through Mila. “It’s OK! We have to go! Come on, Casey, just turn around and let’s go!” he pleaded.
But Casey just stood stock still, staring at the men, shivering. This was not the girl Mila knew. He looked around for Jack. Maybe he would know how to deal with this.
The masked man sat on the ground, unwilling to move. He knew the girl was not stable and could easily shoot him. Then Jack approached and gently placed his hand over Casey’s grip. Whatever it was that Mila was sensing, Jack felt it as well. They both knew that she could, and would, pull the trigger. He coaxed her to open her hand, then slowly took the gun from her as she reluctantly released it. Jack pocketed the gun, and Casey shook her head hard, as a swimmer does upon leaving the water. Mila and Jack saw the Casey they knew slowly reappear as she emerged from the cold, trancelike state.
“Let’s get out of here!” Mila said.
“Yeah,” Casey answered. She reached for Mila’s hand and grasped it tightly. Jack took her other hand and they, united in fear and speed, ran from the scene together. The pack of dogs took off behind them like predators.
The three teens had gone less than a block when Casey stopped. The boys slid to a halt beside her. She turned to face the dogs and commanded with uncanny authority, “Go!”
All the dogs in
the pack began to whine and yelp in terror. The pack broke up into a motley assortment of scared, submissive animals with their tails between their legs. One by one they wandered off, dispersing into the streets and back alleys. But a single dog—a handsome, healthy-looking German shepherd—remained behind. It stood confidently in front of Casey and stared her down.
“You, too! Go! On your way. Shoo!” she ordered. But the dog just looked at her beseechingly. Then it sank to its knees, put its muzzle to the ground, and covered its face with its paws.
“Come on, Casey, or we’re going to get caught,” Jack reminded her.
Casey frowned. As they broke into a run, the shepherd rose to its feet and followed loyally alongside.
XVI
Sybil’s Garden
Mila desperately tried to keep up the pace, but his strength was running out as the ache from his injuries increased. His shoulder throbbed with a piercing pain, and the ache in his left leg was brutal. As the three teens crossed the Spree River, Mila limped along behind. Then Mila exclaimed, “Wait! Tiergarten Park!”
“What park?” Jack panted, almost out of breath.
“It’s about a ten-minute run from here. We can hide there,” Mila said as he proceeded to take the lead, fighting through the pain.
Sure enough: about ten minutes later, sweating and panting, they arrived at ornate metal gates with the word Tiergarten rendered in wrought iron. The gates stood open, the bottom edges stuck in the grass as if they had been that way for decades. Once safely through the gates, Mila and his companions stopped to catch their breath. They would have liked to collapse into the green grass, but the cropped lawns were wet and muddy from the rain. The German shepherd still accompanied them, and he began to lap some water from a murky puddle with obvious enjoyment.
Mila gingerly massaged his injured shoulder, hoping to lessen the pain. “Are you OK?” Casey asked.
“I hurt my shoulder in the crash,” he replied.
“Is there any swelling or tenderness?” Jack asked.
“No swelling,” Mila replied. “I don’t know about tenderness. Why?”
“My mom is a nurse and my friend broke his shoulder last year in our fencing competition,” Jack said. “That can be very serious, Mila. We may have to get you to a doctor.”
The nagging sound of sirens came again. They all froze in fear. Suddenly, a ringing sound issued from Jack’s pocket, and their fear escalated to panic.
“What was that?” Casey cried out in a trembling voice.
“It’s just my phone,” Jack said. He pulled it out and saw a new text message. “‘Mom calling,’” he read aloud.
“Don’t answer it,” Casey warned. “They can track it.”
“She’s right! Throw it in the bushes,” Mila advised.
“What? It’s a two-hundred-dollar phone,” Jack objected. Casey ripped the phone from Jack’s hand and tossed it into the nearby bushes.
“Hey, what’d you do that for?” yelled Jack. “I was going to ask my mother about Mila’s shoulder!”
“They ... can … track … it …” Casey said with authority.
Jack gave Casey a confused look, as if to say, “What the hell?”
“Come on,” Mila said, interrupting the argument. “I know a place we can hide.” He started off down a narrow path that was overgrown with huge rhododendrons.
The other two followed Mila down the path deeper into the park. The further in they went, the more trees there were, until it seemed as if they were in a forest that had sprung up right in the middle of Berlin. Soon, they heard the distinct sound of pigeons chirping in the distance. The chirps became louder as they approached a large statue.
At first glance, the statue looked dark, even sinister. Made of bronze aged to pale-green verdigris, the massive sculpture rose perhaps as much as seven or eight meters into the air. The figure was a woman, dressed in a flowing robe that gracefully draped her body all the way to her feet. She was reclining on her side on an Egyptian sphinx, using its head as an armrest. A hood casting a shadow on her face, and in her lap sat a large book. She held the book open with one hand as though reading the text. While not a single bird sat directly on the statue, pigeons surrounded the entire sculpture, pedestal and all. As they moved closer to the impressive figure, Jack and Casey couldn’t help but stare, enthralled by its dark beauty.
“Sybil Reading History,” Mila blurted out.
Jack and Casey looked at him, impressed once again by his knowledge. Not only did he keep up with popular culture like Whistleblower, but he apparently knew European art as well.
“That’s the name of the statute. Don’t be so surprised! We need to know these things to help tourists. They’re always asking stupid questions,” Mila said matter-of-factly.
The teens crept even closer, frightening the birds who took flight as if on cue. However, only one bird remained, a pigeon in a hauntingly familiar shade of white.
The sight of the statue reminded Mila of the dream he had just three days ago: the woman that had guided him to the rooftop, and there, as if fate had commanded it, the white bird stood proudly on the structure. “You’re the woman in the stairway,” he whispered to himself.
“There were two. Correct? They will take you on a journey of darkness and power,” he recalled Nasta saying when she interpreted his dream. He glanced over at Jack and Casey, and he realized that this was why Nasta had wanted him to ward off the dream.
“Shoo! Go away!” Casey commanded. The shepherd gave her another pitiful look and dropped one ear.
“I think he likes you,” Jack said.
“He might even love you,” Mila put in wryly.
“Shut up,” Casey said, embarrassed.
“This way,” Mila said.
He led them toward a dense patch of bushes and trees, and pulled back a branch to reveal a path cut into the shrubbery. Jack and Casey stepped inside, with the loyal dog close behind. They followed the short path, ducking their heads beneath the occasional branch, and soon found a small clearing. It was obviously a popular meeting place for teens: old beer bottles and cans were strewn about, and several buckets and milk crates were arranged in a circle for seating.
“We Gypsies hide here a lot. We can get away from police, store valuables, sometimes just hang out here for fun,” Mila explained. “I think we should stay here and figure out a plan.”
Jack and Casey nodded in agreement. Each of the three pulled up a milk crate and got as comfortable as possible. They sat without saying anything for what seemed like an eternity until Casey broke the silence. “Were you hurt badly, Mila? That crash was intense,” she said.
She didn’t really need to ask: she could tell he was hurt. The agony on his face when he rubbed his ribs gave that away. “I’ll be all right,” Mila said. Standing up, he started to pace around the clearing, rubbing his shoulder and stretching the injured arm.
“I don’t think it’s broken, Mila,” Jack said reassuringly. “There’s no discoloration.”
“I’ll be all right,” Mila said yet again while nervously pacing. “We’ve got to figure out what to do.”
“Guys, I think I should go back and look for my phone,” Jack said. “I’ll call my father. He and my uncle were stationed here in Germany years ago. I’m sure they’ll have connections. And what about your bodyguard, Casey? Isn’t she ex-Mossad?”
“Mossad?” Mila asked, confused.
“Yeah,” said Jack. “Mossad, Israeli secret service. That’s what they’re called.”
“What type of connections?” Casey asked with interest.
“I’m not sure. My uncle was special ops. Some of my family say he was even a spy. He was stationed at checkpoint Charlie for years. I can give him a call—”
Before Jack could say more, Mila interrupted. “And what are you going to say? That you witnessed a Gypsy boy being murdered while follow
ing another Gypsy into a cave? Or how about that you helped a fugitive break out of police custody while being an eyewitness to two cold-blooded murders?”
With that, Casey began to cry with her hands folded as if she were shivering. “I’m really afraid,” she said.
Jack went over to Casey and put his arm around her to offer her comfort.
“I’m really afraid, Jack. My uncle back home, he’s going to kill me,” Casey said through tears.
“Calm down,” said Jack, still hugging her. “It’s going to be okay.”
Mila stopped his pacing and stared at the beautiful girl hysterically crying as Jack held her. He realized how much trouble he had gotten them into, despite his best efforts to help them. He thought of Nasta and the dream, wishing she was alive so that he could tell her she was right about everything. Feeling a tear coming to his eye, he walked up next to the Americans.
“Jack, you’re right,” he said. “You guys are in enough trouble. You should go back, get your phone, and call your uncle. Blame it all on me. Officer Belz hates all us Rom. He’ll believe you. And get Casey back home. I’ll deal with the rest on my own. I have to find my cousins, anyways.”
Casey wiped the tears from her eyes as she said, “But they’ll kill you if we say it’s all your fault.”
“They’ll try to kill me even if it’s not my fault,” Mila said. “You may as well tell them what they want to hear, so they can let you guys go. Otherwise, Jack might go to jail for trying to help me.”
“He might be right,” Jack said.
Casey pulled away from Jack and looked at him in disgust. “Are you kidding me? We can’t just abandon Mila. He risked his life to save me. He’s innocent!”
“It’s all right, really,” Mila assured her.