So far, Henrik had refused to answer questions. Sensing the urgency of the situation, Andie had kept quiet, knowing they had little choice in the matter and letting him concentrate.
But now it was time for some answers.
“Thank you for saving us,” she said.
Henrik gave a curt nod.
“Any word from Zawadi?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
“Is that a bad sign?”
“It could mean any number of things. With Zawadi, I’ve learned not to assume the worst.”
“Why not? Who is she?”
“I’ll let her answer that question.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To a safe house in Bologna. It’s not far.”
Cal finally turned away from the window. “A safe house provided by who?”
Henrik’s penetrating gaze slipped to the rearview mirror. “I would think by now you know.”
“The Leap Year Society? It’d be nice to hear you say it.”
Henrik’s attention returned to the road.
Bologna, Andie thought. The same city where Dr. Corwin was shot and killed—unless, as she fervently hoped, he was somehow still alive.
“Is the city safe?” she asked.
“It used to be,” Henrik said darkly. “Times have changed.”
“Because of the Ascendants?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Cal said, “There’s something I’ve been wondering—if the CEO of Aegis International is an Ascendant, why did he have the symbol of the Leap Year Society on his computer?”
“Because the usurpers cling to the delusion they represent the true spirit of the Society.”
Andie asked a few more questions that Henrik refused to answer, which annoyed the hell out of her. Though exhausted by the ordeal, she forced herself to stay awake on the drive through the uninspiring outskirts of Bologna and into the softly glowing historic center, where a handful of slender stone towers dominated the skyline. They passed countless piazzas and basilicas, street after street of elegant buildings with wide arched porticos.
Henrik turned onto a quiet avenue and pulled to a stop. The empty porticos lining the street resembled corridors of Roman ruins in the darkness. Henrik hustled them out of the car, stepped beneath a portico, and approached a fifteen-foot wooden door with iron studs and a brass knocker in the shape of a snake eating its own tail. Another ouroboros. Andie had seen a similar symbol used by the Leap Year Society on numerous occasions along her journey.
Henrik handed her a pair of keys. “These unlock this door and the apartment at the top of the stairs. Someone will come for you tomorrow night.”
“You’re not staying?” she said.
“I have other duties.”
“Who’s coming for us? Where will they take us?”
“Goddammit,” Cal said, “you can’t just leave us here like this.”
Henrik hesitated. “You’ll be given more information tomorrow, I promise. You’re not prisoners and are free to leave at any time. Though with the threat level so high, I’d advise staying in the building.”
“What happens tomorrow night?” Andie said. “Have you heard from Dr. Corwin?”
“No one has, and I have to go. There’s plenty of food in the apartment. Are you carrying any electronics besides Dr. Corwin’s device?
“We were prisoners in a medieval torture chamber a few hours ago. So no.”
“Keep it that way. And good luck.”
As Henrik drove off in the Alfa Romeo, Cal touched her arm. “Come on,” he said. “We should get out of sight.”
Frustrated, Andie opened the heavy door to the building and made sure it locked behind them. Inside, an unlit hallway led past an interior courtyard dotted with marble statues and plants in huge terra-cotta pots. The salmon-pink plaster was flaking off the walls, and the plants looked starved for attention. Despite its shabby condition, the building evoked a grander era and felt oversize, similar to much of the architecture they had seen on the drive in. As if Bologna were built for a race of aristocratic giants.
Just past the courtyard, a stairwell led to the upper stories. They climbed six floors to a door at the very top. Andie caught her breath as she tried the key, half expecting someone to jump out at them, but the key worked on both latches and no shadowy forms emerged from the darkness.
Cal flicked a light switch as Andie locked the door behind them. The light revealed a cozy, wood-floored apartment with an open layout and a sloping ceiling that reminded Andie of her childhood attic. Directly ahead was a sitting area and a dining table with chairs. The kitchen was off to the right. Bookshelves, framed prints and cinema posters, and a few curios were interspersed throughout the room. The prints were Klimt and van Gogh, the posters from classic Italian cinema.
A hallway past the kitchen led to a modest bedroom suite. Except for a terrace that overlooked the city off the main living area, that was it. No ancient secrets or mysterious furnishings or radical technology. Just a top-floor apartment they might have found on Airbnb, and which looked as if it belonged to a middle-aged Italian bohemian. Though a bit disconcerting, it was a welcome haven of normality after everything they had been through.
Before they relaxed, they inspected every nook and cranny of the apartment, searching for hidden cameras, listening devices, false doors, or anything else suspicious. For good measure, Andie even did a walk-through with the Star Phone, wondering if the device would reveal any secrets when trained on the walls or objects.
Nothing.
No one.
As boring as central Kansas.
“First things first,” Cal said as he rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a block of cheese, a mortadella roll, and a Peroni. “If someone’s coming to kill us tonight, I’d prefer to die on a full stomach.”
Andie grabbed a couple of plates and another beer, and joined him in the sitting area. She was too tired to bother with the bottle of red wine on the counter. “I suppose they wouldn’t bring us all this way just to poison us.”
Through a set of French doors that opened onto the terrace, she glimpsed a flash of lightning. The ghostly aura of the backlit city mirrored her state of mind. Ever
