Neil Olson - The Icon

“I feel so stupid,” she said into his collar. “And frightened.”

“Tell me what happened.”

She released him slowly, sat down at the little kitchen table. He boiled water for tea they would not drink while she told him of Rosenthal, del Carros, and the encounter at the cathedral. By the time he told her of his misadventures in Greece it was three o’clock in the morning. He held her hands across the table, shaking from fatigue.

“I can’t believe you went hunting for that guy after the speech you gave me last week.”

“I assumed he was just some old collector,” she answered. “It didn’t seem dangerous. I thought I might learn a few things.”

“You did that, all right,” he laughed.

“Well, I was told some things, anyway. You have to consider the source. Then I had to open my big mouth, pretend to know secrets. I wonder if they’ll come looking for me.”

“I doubt it. Now that they know people are protecting you.”

“Maybe they believe I know where the icon is.”

“What does Benny think?”

“What you said. They were willing to grab me while they had the chance, but they won’t try again. They just want the icon. I can’t get that fucking thing out of my life even when I give it away.”

That’s because you let me into your life, he almost answered, but thought better of it. They were silent for some moments.

“So they’re gone, right?” Ana spoke again. “The icon, and your godfather.”

“It looks that way. Actually, I have a wild guess where he is.”

“Really, where? No, don’t tell me.”

“I have no intention of telling you. In fact, I’m trying hard to let all this go.”

She squeezed his hands firmly.

“That’s exactly what we need to do.”

“I’m so tired.”

“You should sleep. I can go now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sure it’s safe. You need time to get your head together.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You are not leaving my sight.”

“OK.” She smiled at him. “But I’m not sure I can sleep. I’m afraid I’ll have nightmares of people chasing me.”

“I felt like someone was chasing me tonight.”

“When?”

“Earlier. In the subway, all the way home. Don’t worry, it wasn’t anyone. Just paranoia, but it really felt like someone, or something, was after me.”

“This thing is eating you alive. Please tell me you’ll let it go.”

“I will,” he said, in a tone that sounded convincing even to himself. “I have to, I’m not cut out for this.”

She came around the table and held him again. “Promise me.”

“I promise myself. I want out.” He closed his eyes. “I just pray that they leave us alone.”

“It could have been him. It could very well have been him.”

They had retreated from the coffee shop to the car so that Benny could smoke. In any case, it afforded a better view of Matthew’s street. Neither the boy nor Ana had emerged yet, which Andreas took as a likely sign of reconciliation.

“But you can’t be sure,” said Andreas.

“How can I be sure?” Benny slammed his door and lit up immediately. A heavy white bandage covered his left forearm and made some actions clumsy. “I’ve never seen him, just photographs. All old men look alike.”

“So what makes you think it might be him?”

“The face was close enough. And he would have someone like that Dutchman around him. Why does a simple collector need someone like that?”

“He is no simple collector. A dangerous man, certainly. That doesn’t mean he’s Müller.”

“The Kessler woman thinks he is.”

“What are her reasons?”

“Female intuition? I don’t know; she was too shaken for me to debrief her properly. But apparently he admitted seeing the icon years before. More than seeing it. She had the impression that he had spent time with it, maybe owned it. Then, when he was about to get rid of her, she accused him of stealing it. Just to get a reaction.”

“Which she did, it would seem.”

“Oh, yes. His interest in continuing the conversation grew immeasurably after that. He managed to frighten her out of her wits. I can only assume that she had done the same to him, somehow.”

“I didn’t realize she even knew Müller existed.”

“She may not, by name, anyway. But she isn’t stupid, she’s heard rumors. Her grandfather got the icon as loot from a Nazi officer. She doesn’t have to know his name to guess that this might be the guy.”

“Of course. Damned foolish of her to taunt him with that.”

“She didn’t know what she was dealing with.”

“It’s good you were there.”

“It’s good that you put me on to watching her. Now we may have Müller in our sights again. Then all of us doubters will owe you an apology.” Benny shook his head in a bemused fashion, sucking on his cigarette. There was a look in the big man’s dark eyes that made Andreas uncomfortable.

“You would have executed him,” Andreas stated, more than asked. “Right there in the church. If you could have been sure it was Müller.”

“What should I care for churches? That place is more like a museum, anyway.”

“So the answer is yes.”

“If I could have been certain, why not? It would have been risky. I would have had to take out the Dutchman as well, and there were a lot of people around. Then again, how many opportunities can one expect?”

“This recklessness of yours is disturbing. You make me question involving you.”

“What recklessness?” Benny barked smoke into the old man’s face. “It’s all been talk so far. Raiding empty rooms. Bad information. The only reckless thing I’ve done is get that girl out of danger.”

“Forgive me, you did well there. It is only that I take you at your word, and your words have been disturbing.”

“I don’t know why. We both know the man needs to die. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because I lost him and who the hell knows if we’ll ever find him again.”

“You didn’t lose him, you took care of Ms. Kessler. That was the correct thing to do. Now you are wounded, and I can be of little help in a fight. And he has this bodyguard. The business has become too dangerous.”

Benny stared at him for several seconds.

“You’re saying we should give up.”

“Turn it over to the authorities. It’s what I was telling Matthew. The odds are not in our favor, and the goal is insufficient to the risk.”

“The goals are different for each of us. Your boy is an innocent, chasing a painting that will only bring him grief whether he finds it or not. You are right to tell him to stay out of it. Our goal is much simpler.”

“Your goal.”

“My goal, then. Simple, direct, well justified, and I am capable of carrying it out.”

“Yet your arm is bandaged, and we still do not know if we are even chasing the right man.”

“Damn you,” Benny said, mashing out the cigarette in the filthy ashtray. “We’ve just been through this. I got cut doing what you asked me to do. It would have been much easier just to eliminate those two.”

“It won’t be easy the next time. They will know you now.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Finding Müller was your idea. Now we are close and you want to give it up. What the hell have you been after all this time?”

There must be something in his face, Andreas decided, that kept inviting the question. And no matter how many times he recounted the arc of this journey in his own mind, it yielded no obvious answer. The dream of confronting Müller had lived within him for more than fifty years. It lived still, an unconscious reflex, like breathing. Yet something had changed. There were times when he could recall his brother Mikalis, the child Mikalis, so clearly that it was as if he had just seen him days before, scampering across the square toward him: round, dark eyes; stick-figure arms and legs; tousled hair; a small scar on his forehead from an errant rock thrown by Andreas himself. The fiery Mikalis from the war years, however, the young man martyred in the church, had achieved the murky indistinctiveness of myth. The same was true for all of them. Stefano, Glykeria, brave Giorgios, poor unfortunate Kosta-all the dead had become vague memories. The events remained etched firmly in his mind, and he knew they were real, but the players had become ghosts, as if such courage, treachery, grief could never have been the stuff of true lives. Even that hardened killer Captain Elias seemed insubstantial, a role he had once played and then put away. Which was more or less the case.