Джозеф Файндер - Extraordinary Powers

“Who was targeted?”

“We don’t know that either.”

“And you think it’s connected to the diverted gold?”

“It’s possible. Now, tell me this: Did Orlov tell you where that ten billion dollars was stashed?”

“No.”

“Do you think he knew and didn’t want to say?”

“No,” I said.

“He didn’t give you an access code or anything?”

He was visibly disappointed. “Isn’t it possible that Sinclair, in effect, pulled off a grand swindle? You know, told Orlov that he was going along with this scheme to remove ten billion dollars in gold, and then—”

“And then what ?” Molly interjected. She gazed at him with a ferocious intensity. Two tiny red spots appeared on her cheeks, and I knew she had heard more than she could stand. She whispered, almost hissed: “My father was a wonderful man and a good man. He was as honest and as straight as they come. For God’s sake, the worst thing you could say about him was that he was too much of a straight arrow.”

“Molly—” Toby began.

“I was in the back of a cab with him in Washington once when he found a twenty-dollar bill wedged into the seat and gave it to the driver. He said maybe whoever lost it would realize it and contact the cab company or something. I said, Dad, the cabbie’s just going to pocket it—”

“Molly,” Toby said, touching her on the hand. His eyes were sad. “We must consider every possibility, no matter how unlikely.”

Molly fell silent. Her lower lip quivered. I found myself trying to tune in on her thoughts, but she was a little too far away, and I couldn’t summon the mental energy. To be honest, I had no idea whether this strange gift was still with me. Maybe the experience in the burning rat house had knocked it out of me as suddenly as it had appeared. I think I wouldn’t have minded very much if it was gone.

Whatever she was thinking, she was thinking with great passion. But in any case, I could imagine the turmoil she was going through, and I just wanted to leap out of bed and put my arms around her and comfort her. I hated seeing her like this. Instead, I lay there in the bed, arms bandaged, my head fuzzier by the minute.

“I don’t think so, Toby,” I said musingly. “Molly’s right: it doesn’t fit what we know of Hal’s character.”

“But we’re back to where we started from,” he said.

“No,” I replied. “Orlov did supply me with one lead.”

“Oh?”

“‘Follow the gold,’ he said. ‘Follow the gold.’ And he was thinking a city name.”

“Zurich? Geneva?”

“No. Brussels. There are ways, Toby. Since Belgium isn’t known as a major gold center, it can’t be all that difficult to figure out where in Brussels ten billion dollars worth of gold might be hidden.”

“I’ll take care of your flight arrangements,” Toby said.

“No!” Molly exclaimed. “He’s not going anywhere. He needs at least a week of bed rest.”

I shook my head wearily. “No, Mol. If we don’t track it down, Alex Truslow is next. And then us. It’s the easiest thing in the world to arrange ‘accidents.’”

“If I let you leave this bed, I’m violating my Hippocratic oath—”

“Screw the Hippocratic oath,” I said. “Our lives are in danger. An immense fortune is at stake, and if we don’t find it... you won’t be around to live up to that goddamned oath.”

Almost under his breath, I heard Toby say, “I’m with you,” and with a high-pitched electric whine he began slowly to wheel away.

The room was quiet and peaceful. In the city, we become so habituated to the city’s noises that we no longer hear them. But here, in a remote part of northern Italy, there was no noise outside. From the window I could see, in the pale Tuscan afternoon light, a field of tall, dead sunflowers, shriveled brown stalks bowing in pious rows.

Toby had left Molly and me alone to talk. She sat on my bed, absently stroking my feet through the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.”

“I hope it’s not true about your father.”

“But in your heart—”

“In my heart I don’t believe he did anything wrong. But we have to find out.”

Molly looked around the room, then gazed out the window at the spectacular view of Tuscan hills. “You know, I could live here.”

“So could I.”

“Really? Could we, do you think?”

“You mean like, I open the Tuscany office of Putnam & Stearns? Come on.”

“But given your talent for making money...” She smiled wryly. “We could just move here. You quit the law, we live happily ever after...”

A long silence, and then she continued: “I want to go with you. To Brussels.”

“Molly, it’s not safe.”

“I can be of help. You know that. Anyway, you shouldn’t travel unless accompanied by a physician. Not in your condition.”

“Why aren’t you objecting anymore to my traveling?” I said.

“Because I know it’s not true about Dad. And I want you to prove it.”

“But can you deal with the possibility — even the likelihood — that if I find anything, it may not make your father look good?”

“My father’s dead, Ben. The worst has already happened. Nothing you find’s going to undo that.”

“All right,” I said. “Okay.” My eyelids were beginning to close, and I couldn’t gather the strength to fight it any longer. “But now let me sleep.”

“I’ll call ahead and find us a hotel in Brussels,” I heard her say from a million miles away. Fine, I thought; let her do that.

“Alex Truslow warned me of snakes in the garden,” I whispered. “And... and I’m beginning to wonder... whether Toby is that snake.”

“Ben, I found something. Something that might help us.” She said something else, but I couldn’t make it out, and then her voice seemed to fade away.

A little bit later — perhaps minutes, perhaps seconds — I thought I heard Molly slip quietly out of the room. I heard the bleat of lambs from somewhere far away, and very soon I was fast asleep.

Toby Thompson saw us off at the entrance to the Swissair terminal in Milan’s international airport. Molly gave him a kiss, I shook his hand, and then we passed through the metal-detector gate. A few minutes later came the boarding call for Swissair’s flight to Brussels. At the same moment, I knew, Toby was boarding a flight to Washington.

The painkiller that had kept me afloat for the last two days had begun to wear off (though I still felt too woolly-headed to “read” Toby). I knew it was better to get off the stuff if I wished to remain alert. Now, my arms, particularly the insides of my forearms, felt as if they were on fire. They throbbed, each pulse sending knives of pain all the way to my shoulder. And on top of it all, since the painkiller had worn off, I’d had a terrible, unceasing headache.

Still, I was able to lift my two carry-on bags (neither of us checked any luggage) and make it to my seat without too much pain. Toby had purchased first-class tickets for us and provided us with fresh passports. We were now Carl and Margaret Osborne, owners of a small but prosperous gift shop in Kalamazoo, Michigan.

I had a window seat, as I’d requested, and I watched closely as the Swissair maintenance crew on the tarmac bustled here and there, completing their last-minute checks. My body was taut with tension. The front entrance to the plane from the Jetway had been closed and sealed a few minutes earlier. The first-class area afforded me an excellent vantage point from which to watch. Just as I saw the last crew member leave the cockpit area and descend the service steps toward the tarmac, I began to scream.