"Miss Jurgenssen, a moment, please," he said in English.
Volanda was startled, but her training, and more especially her nature, kept her nervous surprise hidden. She gazed inquiringly at the grey-haired gentleman with the bad limp who came up to her in an obsequious manner, the photo back in his pocket.
"The occupant of Room 1513 asks that you wait here in the lobby for fifteen minutes," said the concierge. "He has a personal matter to attend, and asks your pardon."
Volanda wondered, but replied magnanimously, "Of course. It is not a problem."
Fifteen minutes seemed an eternity to her. She was anxious to discover the circumstances behind her summons. At 4:15 precisely she knocked on the door of 1513.
She heard a clicking sound. The door opened barely an inch. She waited, her heart pounding. After a torturous minute she said, "Hello?" and pushed the door fully open.
An unoccupied room stared back at her. She went in and slowly closed the door while searching the room with her cautious eyes. It was clear that the sitting room had not been lived in. On an impulse she looked back at the doorknob and saw a motorized sprocket encircling it, attached to a small battery taped to the hinge-side of the door frame. Someone had unlocked the door via a remote device.
She stood perfectly still, all her senses heightened. She was confident in believing that she was the only person in the suite.
An object seen through the window across from her caught her attention; that, and an envelope leaning against the window sill. She went briskly to the window with her heart in her throat and blanched in shock at what she saw on the edge of the annex roof. It was staring at her with dead eyes: the head of her colleague. In her present condition she could not remember his name.
The envelope beckoned her. She snatched it up, slit it open with a fingernail, and read the following:
'You will write on the back of this sheet the most significant facts about Miklos DeGroot, to the best of your knowledge. His hobbies, his primary associates, his activities outside his diagnostic project. If the info you provide is not useful to me, I will encompass your demise and that of your family member whose custody I retain. Give this sheet to the first person who speaks your name, or who approaches you, when you have exited the hotel. Do not converse with this person. Hand over the sheet and leave without a word. I will be watching. You have thirty minutes to fulfill these demands.'
Volanda considered her options. There were none that appealed to her. Cooperate. That had always been her policy. She took a pen from her cell phone case, sat in the armchair by the window, and, conscious of the dead eyes staring at her from across the alley, began to write.
The first thing about Miklos DeGroot that came to mind was what she herself was involved in. Heathcliffe had introduced her to the 'Coven,' as its members were pleased to call it. In formal discussions and during the rites it was 'Hysterium.' It was the brain child of Miklos, inspired by his love of cynicism and seclusion. Simply put, it was a social philosophy that harped on the futility of life and taught that all things should be laughed at. Nothing was sacred and nothing had value except as an object of ridicule and a source of amusement. To laugh at adversity and tragedy, to laugh in the face of death, was the only healthy way to deal with the fact that life was a joke perpetuated by the grim reapers, the innumerable possibilities of dying that swarm all around us. And this was the motto of Hysterium: 'Non gradus anus rodentum,' which means, 'Not worth a rat's ass.' Life is meaningless, said the philosophy, and good only for a laugh.
Volanda wrote a brief but succinct summary of the rites and membership of Hysterium, careful to note that the meetings were held in the house of Miklos on the first Saturday of every month, beginning at 7pm. She felt that this was the most significant thing she could reveal about Miklos, knowing that the existence of the coven, or, more accurately, the cult, was a tightly held secret among its members.
As she left the room with the folded sheet in hand, she remembered that this day was the last Wednesday of the month, meaning that on the coming Saturday she would find herself in the house of Miklos, in the dark humor of Hysterium, if her mysterious master, this unseen captor, allowed her to be there.
Sanguineus would not have been able to say which of the two sisters was the most surprised.
"Volanda!" gasped Hyacinth, rising like a phoenix from her crosslegged position on the grass.
Her sister was too surprised to utter a sound. She came up to Hyacinth like a sleepwalker having a troubled dream, holding out the folded sheet of paper as if it were the key to the mystery. Then finally: "How is it you're here? My God, are you in thick with this business?"
Volanda put a hand to her mouth. She was not supposed to converse. Her eyes darted around for a glimpse of the person responsible for her predicament. There were many people about, but none of them seemed to be the person in question. Aside from her sister, standing gawking at her incredulously, no one paid her any particular attention. She was just another attractive Swedish girl loitering on the greenbelt.
Volanda shoved the sheet of paper in Hyacinth's jeans pocket and strolled away to the parking garage without a backward look.
Hyacinth spied the master standing near the hotel entrance. Their eyes met. He gestured to her to come to him. For a moment she was torn between obeying him and running after her sister.
"I will explain about Volanda at dinner," Sanguineus said when she had hurried over to him, her blue eyes icy with a demand for answers.
They ate at Scarpetta's.
A private medical jet landed at the Stockholm airport that evening at 9:06pm. Besides the pilot and one stewardess, there were three occupants on board: a doctor, a nurse, and a comatose patient, whom the two medical personnel disembarked on a gurney. The patient's head and face were heavily bandaged. The gurney was equipped with vital-sign monitors and intravenous paraphernalia.
A waiting ambulance received the three, and sped off, presumably to a hospital. But the ambulance detoured to the docks, and there the patient and the nurse went on board a chartered ferry, destined for Gutland. The doctor saw them off, then called a taxi. It was a clear autumn night and the doctor, who was not even remotely qualified to be a physician, enjoyed the city lights and the crowds along the shops.
In the wee hours of Thursday morning a converted hearse, painted a neutral grey, pulled up to the DeGroot house. Except for the porch lights and a few lighted windows, it was pitch black on this moonless night. The driver got out to assist the nurse in pushing the gurney to the entrance way of the house.
Two elderly women in fancy dress received them; froggish Annike with an almost hysterical smile, and Angela with a look of grave disgust. The driver was paid a large sum of money and he immediately departed. The house spooked him. It always did. He couldn't get away fast enough.
The patient, attended by Annike and the nurse, was rolled into a freight elevator off the hall and taken to the second floor. At one end of the corridor was a double-leaved door that opened onto the Throne Room.
Miklos, in bathrobe and sleeping cap, shuffled over to the gurney, grinning and winking at his favorite sister. She was busy taking off the bandages, while the nurse removed her starched white nursing cap and combed out her short hair with her fingers.
Miklos stared down at the face of the unconscious patient. "So," he said gleefully, "This is the fellow who outed the Turphy woman. What did you say his name was, Annike?"
"Justin," she replied, "Justin Conner. A courier for a company called Universal Tools. He had a parttime position with Turphy at her art emporium. According to the nurse, the boy has knowledge of Turphy's underworld connections. Isn't that right?" she asked the nurse.
"Correct," said Tanya Wilde. "And what an excellent victim he'll make."
[Continued in the following post.]
Sorry about the glitch in the post order. If you wish to read post 6, tap or click Home to find it. Don't use the arrows below. They will misdirect you.
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