* * *
Elaine and Alexander soon went into the den and began his
lessons. All went relatively smoothly considering that Elaine could barely
concentrate, growing more nervous with each passing hour. At a couple of points
in the morning she heard the sound of vehicles outside, but they only turned
out to be the postman dropping off mail at the front gate and someone
delivering a big load of groceries.
She thought that Alex noticed her unease, but the boy did
not say anything.
Spyro did not join them for lunch, nor had he yesterday,
but Elaine noticed that he stayed in the library most of the time, working at
his desk.
Elaine and Alexander finally finished his lessons at three
o’clock, and it was not a moment too soon. As soon as his music teacher
arrived, Elaine went back up to her room and immediately checked the messages
on her phone, half-hoping she might find another one from Nick or Luna that
would clarify the Art and his family send their regards postscript.
But there was nothing.
She nervously paced around her bedroom while the dark piano
notes of a song called Asian
Tiger Prowl came drifting up the stairs. She only knew the name of
the song because Alex had told her about it—he had to play the piece well for
his upcoming music exam. There couldn’t have been a worse melody for her to be
hearing right now, either, with its brooding base tones and slow, tense rhythm.
The song actually reminded her of the leopards she’d seen in Sudan, and the
fact that Alex played it clumsily, and kept making mistakes, making it grate on
her nerves.
By the time the lesson ended Elaine was so tense that she
could have jumped out of her skin at the slightest provocation.
She hovered near the open bedroom door, listening to Alex
saying goodbye to the teacher, who lived nearby and had arrived by bicycle. Just
as she heard the clatter of the bike riding towards the gate, she also heard
the rumble of an engine.
It sounded like the limo.
There was a window at the end of the upstairs hallway that
afforded a view of the front of the house. Elaine quietly stepped out of her
room, looked up and down the hall to make sure Fenia wasn’t cleaning one of the
bedrooms, and then quietly stepped down to the window, the sound of the
automobile engine getting louder.
When she peeked around the window frame, she saw that it
was indeed the limo.
The long, sleek vehicle came to a stop adjacent to the
front door.
She expected the driver to get out and open the door, but
the limo just sat there, dormant.
The rear door finally opened. She glimpsed Costa’s repellent
face as he climbed out, dragging his small suitcase with him.
“Oh no,” Elaine gasped. At that instant, Costa glanced up
at the window, but Elaine moved aside just in time to avoid his seeing her. She
hoped.
Making no sound, she rushed back into her bedroom but left
the door open.
This is it, she thought, as the cold hand of fear had
clasped its fingers around her heart.
She stood there, frozen, listening. The front door opened. She
heard a faint squeak from the wheels of the suitcase as he wheeled it down the
hall—it sounded like he was headed towards the library. Spyro was still in
there, as far as she knew.
Elaine moved into the bathroom and stood there staring at
her toilet kit sitting there on the shelf, debating whether to assemble the
pistol.
“Patricia?” a deep voice called from downstairs.
It was Spyro.
Elaine was too paralyzed with terror to answer.
“Patricia?” he called again, a little louder—now it sounded
like he was at the bottom of the steps.
Elaine finally forced herself out of her paralysis and
moved out into the hallway, her knees feeling a little wobbly.
“Yes?” she called.
“Can you come downstairs for a second, please?”
She swallowed, then went down the hall and came round the
corner at the top of the stairs.
She found herself looking down the steps at her tall Greek
employer. His expression was unreadable.
“Costa needs to ask you a couple of questions for his
security check. He’s down in the den, waiting for you.”
Somehow, Elaine’s trepidation morphed into a flash of
anger. “I thought you told me I had the job.”
“Yes, of course you have the job. This is just a formality,
a couple of questions, that’s all.” Spyro motioned up the stairs to her. “Costa
takes his responsibilities very seriously, he has to cross all the t’s and dot
all the i’s to complete his security check. That’s what I pay him for.”
For a split second Elaine considered making some excuse to
go back to her room and get her pistol...but where could she hide it? She was
wearing a pair of fairly tight-fitting corduroys and a long-sleeved T-shirt—she
could slip it behind her back, in her waistband, but Spyro would probably let
her walk ahead of him and he might see the bulge...
She began to descend the stairs.
The P.S. in Nick’s message now whirling round and round in
her mind like some crazy mantra—Art and his family send their regards Art
and his family send their regards Art and his family send their regards. She
only had a few precious remaining seconds left to figure out what the hell it
meant.
She was glad she had decided against going back for the
gun, because when she reached the bottom of the stairs, Spyro did let her walk
ahead of him and guided her along, his fingers lightly touching the small of
her back.
Was he checking for a weapon?
When they reached the den, Costa was sitting at the teacher’s
desk, in the big chair, his back to the door.
“Have a seat,” Spyro said, and he stepped over and pulled
out the smaller chair for her, which was now positioned opposite Costa’s, on
the other side of the desk.
“Thank you,” she said, and sat down. She could not help
noticing that Costa was now between her and the door—there was only one way out
of the room, no escape.
Spyro went out into the hall, leaving them alone together.
Costa’s pockmarked face was expressionless. He glanced at
her, then pulled out his notebook and flipped through to a page that was
earmarked.
Elaine’s anxious mind was already formulating an escape
plan—the fireplace tools were only a few feet away. She could probably grab the
poker fast enough to—
“I want ask you about children you taught in France,” he
said.
“Of course,” Elaine said. Her throat was so dry she had
trouble speaking. Art and his family send their regards Art and his family
send their regards.
“What are the names of the two children?” Costa asked.
Elaine hesitated. She had expected a harder question—this
one was easy. Too easy?
Just as she was about to open her mouth, a terrifying thought
occurred to her. They weren’t the right age! They weren’t even close to the
right age! According to the legend they had constructed, both kids should be
teenagers by now. Had Costa seen them?
The big man frowned. “You do not remember?”
Elaine gave a relaxed smile, covering the turmoil she felt
inside. “Of course I remember their names, I was just reminiscing, they were
both such wonderful children. Their names are Ryan and Amelia.”
Costa looked a little surprised that she knew the answer,
as if he thought he had already caught her in a lie. He made a mark in his
book.
“And when is Ryan’s birthday?”
“His birthday?” Elaine said.
“Yes, his birthday. Surely you remember after
working four years as his governess...”
“Of course I remember. It’s the twelfth of November.”
Costa again looked surprised.
“I don’t know the year,” Elaine added, for effect. “But let’s
see, I think the year would probably be—”
“Year not important,” Costa said dismissively. He made
another mark in his notebook, but looked annoyed, as if he was sure he had
caught some sort of imposter but now was being proved wrong.
“And birthday of Amelia?”
“The twenty-eighth of March,” Elaine said smoothly.
Costa did not respond. Of course it was the correct answer.
Now, Spyro appeared at the door. He just stood there, his
hands casually in his pockets, watching.
“One more question,” Costa said, looking back at his
notebook.
Elaine nodded patiently, trying not to look at the
fireplace poker and covering the hurricane of terror that swirled around inside
of her. Even if she could incapacitate both Costa and Spyro with the poker, she
had to make it past the guard at the front gate. If she could get off the
property, how would she escape from the island?
Now she sorely regretted not having listened to Luna’s
suggestion to send Dmitry here.
Art and his family send their regards Art and his family
send their regards Art and his family send their regards Art and his family
send their regards. What the HELL did it mean?
“Yes?” Elaine said.
“In home-schooling, what was Ryan’s favorite subject?”
Elaine felt like the very floor of the villa had dropped
out from underneath her.
Ryan’s favorite subject? She thought. He’s only in
kindergarten!
Her mind went into overdrive, trying to imagine what Nick
would have said about their son, but she came up blank.
“Let’s see...” Elaine said, stalling, looking past Costa,
at the wall, as if trying to remember. “Ryan...”
What on earth would Nick have said as an answer to that
question? Math, reading, social studies, geography, music, art—?
Art and his family send their regards.
ART and his family...
“Well, for Ryan, I would have to say art. Ryan always loved
art.”
Spyro and Costa exchanged a glance.
Elaine’s pulse was pounding so furiously her vision seemed
blurry.
Had she given the right answer, or—
“May I have your passport?” Costa said, holding out one of
his beefy hands.
Elaine had never struggled so hard to stay calm. She looked
from one face to the other. “Why do you need my passport?”
Spyro smiled warmly, “Because Costa has to get you a work
permit, of course!”
He stepped over and warmly placed his real hand—not his prosthetic
one—on her shoulder. “I’m pleased to officially welcome you to our family,
Patricia!”
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