Roman Forum. An old man pushed a chestnut-roasting cart down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. The rich, loamy scent of chestnuts and the sharp bite of charcoal had Noel suddenly ravenous. He ran across the street to see if the man had anything left.
He had only a few, cooked until the shells were black, but he was happy to pluck the chestnuts out with gnarled fingers and load them in a paper cone. Noel ran back to Niobe and thrust the cone into her hands. “You’ll like these. And not just to eat, they’re better than mittens.”
They shelled and ate chestnuts, watched their breaths steam, and just before the wind became too brutal they reached the hotel. They had a suite, and a room-service dinner was waiting for them. Niobe settled onto the couch, sighed, laid a hand over her belly. “I still can’t believe this is my life.”
Noel leaned down and kissed her. “Happy?”
“Very.”
On the Lukuga River, Congo
People’s Paradise of Africa
Wally didn’t realize just how much he’d come to depend on Jerusha until she was gone. Somehow, she’d made it possible to endure the sorrow that threatened to crumple up his heart like so much tin foil. But now Wally had only his thoughts for company. He didn’t know how to bear the guilt and grief over Lucien’s death all by himself.
After Jerusha left with the kids back toward Tanzania, Wally started working his way west, farther up the Lukuga. She erased their tracks with new plants, while Wally went out of his way to leave the most obvious trail he could. He ripped down everything in his path; he tore branches and leaves; he stomped his feet, pounding perfect footprints into the soft earth; he littered his trail with banana peels, mango rinds, granola-bar wrappers, and even the occasional smear of peanut butter. He did his best to make it look like he was a whole bunch of people.
His clues wouldn’t last long in the jungle, especially the food. But they didn’t have to. Just until folks came to investigate the sudden destruction of the Nyunzu lab. They’d follow his path because it was the only path to find. He wondered, too, how long it would take Jerusha and the kids to get to Lake Tanganyika.
Twin pangs of worry and loneliness fueled another surge through the thick growth along the river. He kept as close to the river’s edge as he could manage. That way he could be spotted from a passing boat. And he kept an eye open for the barge that carried supplies of the wild card virus.
Dusk fell. As it did every evening, the sounds of the jungle-what little he could hear over the constant crash, crack, crunch of his passage-changed. The noise of life, raucous and loud, birdcalls and primate vocalizations and other things he couldn’t begin to identify, gave way to more subtle things: the buzz of insects, the gurgle of a stream, the whisper of a breeze through the foliage, the rustle of leaves as something slinked past. With practice, he’d be able to tell the time entirely from the jungle noises.
Though he didn’t need it, he built a fire that evening. The biggest he could manage. It took a lot of work, because everything was so damp. But it was visible, he hoped, from quite a ways. He got the idea by trying to think like Jerusha. She was smart, and always had good ideas.
She would’ve been proud of him.
She’d kissed him.
Another pang. Oh, nuts, Jerusha. Please take care of yourself. ’Cause I gotta see you again, when this is over.
The Grinzing
Vienna, Austria
The grinzing was a pretty, old-fashioned, and rather rural section of town situated in the foothills. It was like a welcome mat for the Vienna Woods, and with its array of small weinstubes, Biergartens, and restaurants it was a perfect place to end a ramble through those woods. It was very late, but the small green lamps still glowed at several restaurants, indicating they were open.
Noel’s contact had named a particular Weinstuben. It wasn’t the most savory-looking establishment, but then, Noel reflected, his contact wasn’t all that savory. After dinner Noel begged off coming right to bed and instead taken a shower. As he’d hoped, the combination of a late night, late dinner, and pregnancy had Niobe sleeping deeply. She hadn’t even stirred when he let himself out of the room.
One customer, an older man, sat at a corner table. A carafe of white wine was in front of him, and a Wiener schnitzel the size of a place mat hung off the sides of a plate. Potatoes and a basket of heavy brown farmer’s bread completed the carb-loaded meal. It took a minute for Noel’s eyes to adjust to the gloom. Once they had he studied the man’s features-thin face with a network of wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, a ropy neck, and swollen knuckles, a symptom of creeping rheumatoid arthritis-yes, it was definitely Ffodor Mathias, aka Karolus Kowach, aka Nicolao Tholdy, aka Blackhole.
He was wanted by Interpol, known to the Silver Helix, he’d been convicted five times, but he was a hard man to keep locked up, given his ability to bend light waves and make himself invisible. He bent them using gravity. Which meant he could also make heavy objects light and light objects heavy.
When you were planning on stealing a crapload of gold he would be a useful man to have along.
“So, what’s the job?” Mathias asked without preamble as Noel slid into the chair across from him.
“Liberating the state treasury of the PPA.”
“I want ten million dollars,” Mathias said.
Noel threw the Wiener schnitzel in the Hungarian’s face.
Once Mathias clawed away breading and grease he found himself looking down the barrel of Noel’s. 40 caliber Browning. “Okay. Now that we’ve established what you want, let’s discuss what you’ll actually get.”
“I’m old,” Mathias whined. “I need to get out of this game.”
“Three million, and you can pretend you’ll actually retire,” Noel said as he stood up.
“You ruined my dinner,” Mathias complained.
Noel threw a handful of bills onto the table. “Buy another. I’ll be in touch.”
17
Saturday,
December 12
Noel Matthews’s Hotel
Vienna, Austria
“Where have you been?” Niobe’s arms were folded across her chest and her expression was thunderous.
“I couldn’t sleep, I took a walk-”
“Do not lie to me, Noel Matthews! Are you back working for the Silver Helix?”
“No, God no, you know I’d never do that after… after…” He had a sudden image of the tiny smears on the floor of his parents’ house, all that remained of the tiny ace children he had sired with Niobe.
Niobe sank down on the couch, and her arms were lowered to clasp her belly. Alarmed, Noel stepped forward. “Are you-”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I just can’t stand it when you lie to me. What are you doing?” He hesitated. She stood up abruptly and grabbed her suitcase out of the closet. “Either we’re partners and you trust me, or we’re not and you don’t, and I’m not going to raise a child in that kind of atmosphere.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Well, don’t. ”
They stared at each other for a long time.
So he told her. Not everything, but enough to give her the shape of his thoughts and plans about the PPA and the Nshombos.
He found himself pacing as he talked. “The truth is, this is going to be a bitch. I have some idea of the security measures, but by no means all. It has to look like the Nshombos looted the treasury or they’ll just blame
