She tapped a link on her phone and passed it to him.
“Oh, Madonna!” he hissed, as he read on. “Unbelievable. How can we get anything done in this country when everyone leaks!”
When he was done reading, he passed the phone across the table to Marcus.
They Have Not Aged—Before and After Photos Of The Missing Girls
We Were Abducted By Aliens—Kept On A Spaceship By Gray Men
Marcus finished his drink and said to Odorico, “Can you email this to me? I’ve got to let Mr. Andreason know right away.”
“Give me your address,” she said, coolly.
His phone dinged with the email and he said, “This is from a local paper, right? Has this hit the streets yet?”
“In the morning,” she said. “But they’ve already tweeted it.”
“Some piece of shit took their pictures in their hospital beds,” Marcus said. “Where was the security?”
“Right outside their door,” Lumaga said. “I’m quite sure they were taken by someone on the staff of the hospital who had a legitimate reason for being in the room. Everyone with a phone has a camera. Fabiana, we’ll need to at least make a show of investigating the leak, but I don’t want to divert people from critical tasks.”
“I understand,” she said.
Marcus kept looking at Victoria and Elizabeth’s “after” photos. The photographer had asked them to pose and the results were two sad little smiles.
“We’re going to be ass-deep in alligators tomorrow,” he said, and by Odorico’s short, sharp laugh, he wondered if it was the first time she’d heard the expression.
12
With the extensive police escort, members of the public might have assumed that an important politician or maybe a Mafia judge was riding in one of the black SUVs. But the police had good cause for accompanying the girls from their hospital to the airport because paparazzi in cars, motorcycles, and scooters jockeyed dangerously for position on the narrow roads. Marcus rode with Mickey and Celeste in the lead SUV and the Cutrìs accompanied the girls and a nurse in the second.
From the back seat, Marcus was looking into the driver’s wing mirror when he saw a motorcycle with a photographer on the back trying to overtake the convoy and pull alongside. An oncoming car forced it to regain its lane and it almost collided with one of the police cars.
“It’s a fucking zoo,” he said.
Celeste was wearing another form-hugging dress, this one black with a demure neckline. She had asked whether she could ride with Victoria and Elizabeth, but Marcus told her she’d have a chance to see them on the plane. Left unsaid was his insistence on supervising her interactions. He didn’t trust her and he didn’t want her planting false memories to burnish her psychic claims.
Marcus’s phone rang.
“Roberto,” he answered. “What’s going on?”
Lumaga said, “There’s a new leak, I’m afraid. It’s gotten out that the girls are heading to the Bambino Gesù Hospital. You can expect crazy scenes when you arrive.”
“I wish you were coming to Rome,” Marcus said.
“There’s important work to be done here, but don’t worry, I’ve notified the chief of the main Carabinieri station in Rome. You’ll have excellent security protocols in place for the transport from the airport and while they are at the hospital. You’ve got my number. Call if you need anything. I’ll contact you if we learn anything new down here.”
“What did he say?” Mickey asked.
“The world knows which hospital we’re heading to.”
“For Christ’s sake,” Mickey said. “Are people selling information, or can’t they keep their lips from flapping?”
“I’ll take that as a rhetorical question,” Marcus mumbled.
When the convoy pulled onto the tarmac and parked beside Mickey’s jet, one of the policemen bounded up the stairs and asked the pilot if they were ready. The officer flashed a thumbs-up and Mickey boarded first to organize the seating. He placed the girls in adjacent, cross-aisle seats with Celeste and Marcus facing them. Leonora and Armando settled in the aft with the nurse, and Mickey took his favorite oversized chair nearest the cockpit.
“Wheels up,” he told the pilots, pulling his laptop from his briefcase, preparing to catch up on company emails.
Elizabeth eyed Celeste suspiciously. “Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Celeste. I’m so happy to meet both of you.”
“Are you a nurse?” Victoria asked, playing with the hide-away tray.
“No, I’m not a nurse, but I like to help people.”
“How?” the little girl asked.
“By telling them things about themselves.”
The plane began to taxi. Both girls tensed.
Marcus reassured them. “Flying is fun. Do you remember flying on airplanes?”
Elizabeth said she did; Victoria said she didn’t.
No one spoke again until the jet pierced the cloud cover and sunlight flooded the cabin.
Elizabeth clearly had been mulling over Celeste’s statement. “What do you tell people about themselves?”
Marcus turned to watch Celeste’s response. Lips that seemed glued together by red lipstick peeled apart at the tug of a smile.
“I tell people about things from their past that they have forgotten or perhaps never knew. I tell people about their future.”
“How?” the girls asked.
“I see things.”
“Like what?”
“Sometimes I see people. They might be talking. They might be silent. They might be kissing.”
Victoria sniggered and said, “Ewww.”
“Usually when they kiss, it’s nice,” Celeste said. “Sometimes I see the places where people have been, or where they are going.”
Marcus could see that Celeste interested the older girl. The younger one had figured out how to retract the tray table and she dipped into her fun bag for a coloring book and crayons.
“Like where?” Elizabeth asked.
Celeste’s tone was lilting and soft. Marcus fought its attraction, but it was mesmerizing.
“Maybe it’s a green, green forest shaded by tall trees. Maybe the person I’m helping is there. Maybe something good will happen to her in the forest.”
“Like what?”
“Maybe she will find someone who is lost in the forest.”
“A little girl?”
“Yes, perhaps a little girl. Then another time, maybe I’ll see a lovely beach with seagulls riding the wind, calling from above. Maybe a man and a woman are walking on the beach and they are splashing in the warm
