2 The Dante Connection (2 page)

Colin closed the door. “I’m sorry, Jenny.”

“It’s not enough.” I turned my back on him and walked to the sofa. “Vinnie, you need to take Francine to the hospital.”

“We’re taking her to the clinic,” Colin said.

“Okay.” Vinnie seemed to immediately know where this clinic was. He was on his haunches next to the sofa, talking quietly to Francine. He leaned over, carefully lifting Francine against his chest, and stood up in a movement so smooth that I stared at his legs. Vinnie was not only tall, but exceptionally strong. For a short while I had felt safe when he had been my bodyguard. Francine would be safe with him.

Colin followed them to the front door and addressed me over his shoulder. “Bring those towels, please.”

“I’m not going.” I leaned back and folded my arms over my chest.

“Jenny, it will be much easier if you help me.” Colin was using his negotiation voice. It annoyed me.

“No.”

“Please get dressed, bring the towels and meet us at the car.” He opened the door for Vinnie. “We can argue about this while I’m driving our friend to the hospital for life-saving medical treatment.”

If the situation were not so dire, I might have been more offended at his undisguised attempt at emotional blackmail. Not that it would ever work on me, but it did make me think. In the months since we had first met, Francine had gone out of her way to be my friend. She had frequently met me at a bistro close to my office for lunch. Every time had been at her initiative, not mine.

“Genevieve, please. I need you.” Francine’s voice was weak, the pleading in her tone strong. Was this what friends did? Help each other despite very probable legal ramifications? The books didn’t say.

With an angry grunt I walked to my bedroom to get dressed. Life had been much simpler before these people who called themselves my friends entered my life.

By the time I reached Colin’s car, Vinnie had climbed into the backseat with Francine in his arms. I handed Colin the towels. He gently put one under her head and closed the door. He turned to me, sincerity in every micro-expression. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You left me. For months. Then you appear in my flat within seconds of me contacting you. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you must have been in the vicinity. We are going to have an argument while you’re driving.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said and opened the passenger door for me. There was too much I wanted to say to him at that moment. Eventually I simply groaned and got into the high seat of his SUV. I took juvenile pleasure in pulling the door out of his hand and slamming it.

As soon as Colin pulled away from the curb, he pushed a few buttons on the dashboard screen. The sound of a phone ringing filled the car.

“Allô,” a tinny, but distinctly male voice answered. He sounded awake.

“Paul? This is Andrew Marvell.” Colin gave me a quick smile. I shook my head at his false identity. His use of the names of seventeenth-century English poets was how I had exposed him in the first place. I knew that if I checked, Andrew Marvell would also be an English poet.

“Andrew?” The voice laughed. “It’s been years. How are you?”

“Still invisible. How are you?”

“Still the best.” His English was exceptional, the French accent barely audible. There was a slight pause. “It’s two-forty in the morning. I take this is not a social call?”

“Unfortunately not. I have a friend with me who needs medical attention. She needs it without any paperwork.”

“Done. How bad is she?”

“She’s been badly beaten. Maybe some broken ribs, hopefully no internal bleeding.”

“You know where to bring her. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Paul.” Colin glanced at his watch. “We should be there in another five minutes.”

Unsurprisingly the streets were empty. This time of the morning was too late for the night owls and too early for the early birds. About the only time that there was a lull in the constant movement of the city. Knowing that there was a killer in the backseat, I thought it was a good thing there were no witnesses.

After four months of fretting about Colin’s safety, three months of Vinnie’s absence and two weeks of Francine avoiding me, I now found myself cocooned in this SUV with them. Reunited. And infuriated. I had so many arguments that I didn’t know where to start. “I’m not going into the hospital.”

Colin smiled. “That only took thirty seconds.”

“You timed me?”

“I had a bet with myself.”

“That doesn’t make sense. How can you bet against yourself? There will be no winner.” I caught myself before I digressed further. “I’m not going into the hospital.”

“So you said.” He glanced at me. “Why not?”

I inhaled, but didn’t get a chance to speak.

“And don’t tell me it is because Francine killed two men. We still don’t know the whole story and I do not believe you are so judgemental that you won’t give Francine the opportunity to explain. I can also understand that you are extremely angry with me and with Vinnie, but you still wouldn’t let that keep you from being there for your friend.” His voice softened. “What is the real reason, Jenny?”

I might be the one with degrees in psychology and nonverbal communication, but Colin had a natural ability to see deep into people’s psyches. It annoyed me that he knew me so well. Especially since he had not been in my life for the last four months to know me any better. Yet he knew when to push me for explanations and when to leave me be. I wished he would leave me be about going into the hospital.

“Ignoring me won’t work,” he said as he turned into a narrow street.

“I don’t like hospitals,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I turned away from him.

We entered the parking lot of an upscale medical clinic. Colin parked close to the entrance and turned to me. “I’m sorry, Jenny. The last four months have been hell. Part of that hell was the decision to exclude you from what was happening. I will explain everything to you as soon as Francine is taken care of. Until then I sincerely hope that you can see how much I regret all this time we’ve lost.”

I studied his face in the harsh light of the clinic entrance and saw regret. I also saw stress lines that had not been there before. Equally important was what I couldn’t see. There was no arrogance or smugness, not even a trace of humour. Whatever had happened had been bad. Colin was sitting quietly, allowing me to scrutinise his face. It was the combination of all these factors that eased my anger.

“I will accept your apology after a complete explanation.”

“You guys... really weird.” Francine’s weak voice broke the moment. “Where are we?”

“At the clinic, honey.” Colin got out of the car and I followed suit. He opened the backdoor and I could hear Francine’s disjointed complaints about security. I didn’t know if I could take her seriously. She was always convinced that there was some or another conspiracy surrounding an event.

“Don’t use my name. The hacker... my uncle. Colin, my uncle.”

I frowned at the fragile quality to her voice. “What about your uncle? Is he in danger?”

“They stole his... oh–” She gasped when Vinnie moved and she slumped back against his chest.

The sliding doors to the clinic opened behind me. I turned as an overweight man came to us. He was wearing a white overcoat which led me to believe that he was a doctor. I never understood how doctors could smoke, use drugs or be overweight. He stopped next to Colin and peeked through the window into the car. “This your friend?”

“Yes,” Colin said. This doctor showed not one cue of surprise or shock at the unorthodox situation. Instead he turned to Colin.

“Andrew, good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.” Colin shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“No problem.” He leaned in and spoke to a groaning Francine. “Shall we get you inside and see what the damage is?”

He didn’t wait for her response, but immediately stood back and waved at the door. A young man pushed a gurney through the entrance and hurried to the car. Vinnie exited the vehicle and laid Francine on the gurney with a gentleness belying his ruthless criminal appearance. She groaned only once in pain. The young man started pushing the gurney, but she gripped the sides and started shaking her head.

“No! Not without Genevieve. Where is Genevieve?” There was hysteria in her voice. I cringed and pushed myself against the car.

“Who’s Genevieve?” Paul asked and then followed Colin’s pointed look towards me.

“Jenny?”

“No.”

“Jenny, come on. Francine needs you.”

“No.”

“She’s your friend and right now she needs you.” His voice was losing its apologetic gentleness. He was appealing to my rational side.

“I didn’t ask for her friendship.” My heart was hammering in my chest. I could taste the fear on my breath. The hated blackness frequently threatening to smother me moved into the periphery of my vision. I closed my eyes and envisioned a clear sheet of music paper. I drew the G-clef and started mentally writing Mozart’s Symphony No. 5 in B-flat major. I didn’t even hear Colin move until he was standing in front of me.

“Jenny, I’m here. Tell me when you’re ready.”

I wrote five bars of the first movement before I felt control come back to me. I slowly opened my eyes and looked into Colin’s intense gaze.

“I’ve never had friends. I don’t know how to be a friend. I must be abysmal at it, because you left me. All of you,” I whispered. “And I haven’t been in a hospital for fifteen years. I genuinely don’t want to go in.”

“Oh, Jenny.” Remorse was all over his face and in his voice. “I’m deeply sorry for the pain I’ve caused. We have a lot to talk about and deal with. Do you think you could put your anger and your fear aside for Francine? At this moment her health, her life, should take precedence. Right?”

“Logically, yes.” If only I could convince my psyche that this hospital was not going to leave me emotionally scarred like all those other times in a past best forgotten.

He leaned in even closer, his nose almost touching mine. “Use your logic and your Mozart thingie to help Francine. Please, Jenny. Do this for me.”

I breathed deeply. Twice. “I’ll do it for Francine.”

His face relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Can we maybe move this along?” Paul asked from the open sliding doors. Francine coughed again and even I cringed at the painful sound. I walked to the gurney and the orderly started pushing it towards the clinic. I was walking on the one side, Vinnie on the other, concern pulling at his face.

Once Francine’s coughing stopped, she turned frantic eyes on me. “Please don’t leave me. Not once. Please.”

“I will only promise to go in with you and stay with you until you feel safe.” This might result in me staying days in the hospital, but I was not going to promise anything more than this. “Okay?”

She swallowed with difficulty, nodded once and her body went completely slack. I followed the gurney through the doors and briefly had to call up Mozart. I could feel my heart beating in my suprasternal notch, that little hollow above the breastbone. As I followed the gurney down a brightly lit corridor, I wondered how it was possible that my promise had calmed Francine, but utterly terrified me.

Only Colin’s footsteps directly behind me and the unfinished first movement of the symphony in my head were keeping the blackness at bay. I could only hope Colin and Vinnie would not desert me again.

Chapter TWO

“So, why are you scared of hospitals?”

I took my eyes off the silent television screen in Francine’s private room and made sure Colin saw the disdain on my face. “I’m not scared. I merely experience a very strong repulsion towards such institutions.”

“Jenny, you can colour it with whichever fancy words you want, it is still a phobia.”

I slumped in the luxury lounge chair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, come on, I’m dying of boredom here. Francine’s sleeping peacefully from all those drugs they pumped into her, you are ignoring me, undoubtedly doing something interesting in your head, and I’m left watching a muted news show.”

“I was not in my head. I was also watching the show. It’s much more interesting without the sound. Look at the president’s bodyguard, the one to the left.” I pointed to the screen. Neutrality and objectivity did not exist in the media, but this news programme came the closest in its reportage of current events and especially the political arena. “Can you see how he is shifting from one foot to the other? And there. He’s just pulled his ear again.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s bored.”

Colin laughed, but quickly quieted after a glance at the sleeping Francine. It had taken two hours of probing and testing, but Paul and another doctor, a woman in her early fifties, had determined that nothing was broken or severely damaged. When the older doctor had whispered a question about why Francine had been used as a punching bag, Paul had cut her off with a glare. That had made me wonder how many unregistered patients he was treating in this clinic.

The hospital looked more like an upscale hotel than a medical facility. Each patient had their own private room. The examination room I had been forced to go into with Francine was nothing like the rooms I had spent days in as a child. At least here I had been able to focus on the tasteful art on the walls and the soft classical music filling the elegant rooms. It wasn’t the usual clinical white walls and rooms filled with medical equipment.

An hour ago, they had pushed Francine into her room and she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Vinnie had left about twenty minutes ago to shower and change. His clothes were stained with Francine’s blood. I had been focussing on the muted television to order my thoughts before I confronted Colin. For the last few months I had thought I would never see him again. I didn’t feel ready for this confrontation.

“Tell me more,” Colin said, pulling me back to our inane discussion.

“The president is not comfortable with what the Minister of Education is saying.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s looking askance at the Minister. We do that when we are suspicious of others or what they are saying. And the micro-expressions around his mouth confirm this.”

“Well, I wouldn’t believe anything that man says in any case.”

“The Minister of Education?” I squinted at the screen. The running ticker tape at the bottom of the screen was saying that the Minister of Education was announcing budget cuts, but promised that it would not affect teachers’ salaries.

“Yes, him. That man is a menace to society and is only in office because of his family connections.”

“Nepotism is as old as time.”

“I could maybe accept it if the person benefiting from his bloodline were competent. This man is not. President Godard should replace him.”

I turned my attention fully on Colin. “I did not know you were interested in politics.”

“I’m not really interested. It’s not like I call France my home country, but the last elections were so rife with scandals that it was difficult to not become interested.”

“Are you talking about the scandal surrounding the other candidate’s wife?”

The corners of Colin’s mouth pulled down. “A woman who leaves her children’s care to nannies, boarding schools and drivers is no role model for any group of people. According to those reports she didn’t see her seven-year-old daughter for an entire semester. That is unacceptable.”

I blinked in surprise. “Do you expect a woman to stay at home and raise the children?”

Colin dropped his chin and looked at me from under his eyebrows. “Jenny, you know me better than that. I don’t have any preconceived idea about family structure or role division within a family. I just believe that both parents should play active roles in the raising of their children. Not leave it to anonymous caregivers and teachers.”

“Does that mean that you approve of the new president? Even before he was inaugurated nine months ago, both he and his wife were constantly in the news with their presence at their son’s school activities.”

“In that sense I approve of him.”

“But not in another sense?” I asked.

“I don’t agree with all of his policies. I do think though that he was the best choice out of the running candidates.”

I turned my attention back to the television screen and watched President Godard walk off the podium, ignoring questions being shouted at him from persistent reporters. He reached his wife, a strikingly elegant woman in her late forties. The media loved analysing her fashion, parenting methods, and diet, but most of all held up the success she had in her medical career as a banner for female empowerment.

The president put his hand on the hollow of her back and walked with her off the screen. That gesture was unconscious and significant. Not only did he immediately touch her the moment he was close enough, but she leaned into that touch. I had seen them on screen enough times to know that their relationship was one of mutual trust and respect.

“So why are you scared of hospitals?” Colin’s quick change of topic caught me off guard and I almost answered him.

“Where have you been the last four months?” I countered. I was angry again and it was audible.

“I honestly missed you, Jenny.”

I had also missed him, but didn’t know why he would bring it up now. I was still waiting for an explanation, so I didn’t say anything. I simply looked at him without blinking and without any expression. This made him smile. I didn’t know why.

“With you everything is so black and white, so simple.”

“That is not true. I’m fully aware of the many gray areas in people’s lives, thinking and communication. I just choose to not communicate like that.” I was an expert in nuances of nonverbal communication, not of verbal communication. Colin had made a point of omitting the use of metaphors and slang when he spoke to me. At first it had been difficult for Vinnie, whose linguistic use was exceptionally colourful. Both of them had respected my need for the literal use of language. The television completely forgotten, I narrowed my eyes at Colin and enunciated slowly, clearly, “Explain.”

He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. “I must first say a few things.”

I never understood why people needed to announce their intentions like this. Since he was waiting for my permission to continue, I nodded.

“You are scary good at reading people and I know that you are reading me at this moment. That is why I need to tell you that I can’t tell you everything.” He held up his hands when I inhaled to object. “Just let me finish explaining first, please. I can’t tell you everything for all kinds of security reasons.”

“Which means that you went away on some Interpol mission.” I watched his face closely for a reaction and was not disappointed. I didn’t know how long he had been living a life of secrets, but my pronouncement made him notably uncomfortable. He couldn’t resist a quick glance at the closed door.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “It was mandated by... them. I can’t tell you where I went and what I did. If you ask me about this, I will have to lie to you, so please don’t put me in that position.”

There was infinitely more to his story than some mission he had been on. I could see it. I analysed his face and again he sat patiently, waiting for me to reach a conclusion. “Okay. I won’t ask you about where you were or what you did. Anything else I can’t ask you about?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, considering. When he looked at me there was only sincerity on his face. “No, not that I can think of. Let me tell you what I can before you start asking questions.”

“Okay.” I leaned back in my chair.

“I was sent on a mission four months ago. As usual these things happen so fast that there isn’t much time for packing or goodbyes.”

“But you phoned me to say goodbye.” I remembered that conversation clearly. I had not enjoyed it. As a rule, I avoided telephonic conversations. I abhorred it. That one in particular had made me feel uncomfortable and powerless. “You also promised to phone me the next week.”

Colin rubbed his hand over his face. “I know, Jenny. I made time to phone you. But things very quickly went south when I got there. I was there for only five days when I was made.”

“What does that mean?”

He smiled. “It means that I went undercover and someone discovered that I wasn’t who I pretended to be.”

“So I made you six months ago when I discovered that you used all those false identities?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yes, you did. Only this time, the guys who made me were not as friendly as you.”

“I’m not friendly.”

An unfamiliar smile pulled at Colin’s mouth. Lay people called it a knowing smile. What did he think he knew about me? I didn’t like being the recipient of that smile, but waited for him to continue.

“When my cover was blown, I got beaten up pretty badly.”

My chest tightened. “How badly?”

He crossed his arms. Classic blocking behaviour. He didn’t like remembering or talking about this. “Bad enough that Vinnie had to come and get me out. I spent six weeks in hospital and the last six weeks in physiotherapy.”

The tightness in my chest grew worse. That explained Vinnie’s disappearance too. “What happened?”

“I’m not going to tell you what happened, Jenny. I can’t. I’ll tell you about my injuries though.” His tone indicated that he was trying to placate me. My lips thinned, but I listened. “Altogether nine ribs were broken, I had some internal injuries, but it was not too bad. There was extensive damage to my right leg. The femur was broken in four places and there was, still is, a lot of muscle damage.”

“That’s why you’re walking differently.” My breathing was shallow. I was scared for him, for what had happened to him. “Is there permanent damage?”

“Oh, my leg will never look as pretty as before. The scars are quite big, but the physio helped a lot and my leg now only gets stiff when it’s cold or when I’m sitting for too long. The doctors promised me that with exercise I should gain full mobility again. At least the damage to my hands was not that bad.”

My eyes flew to his hands. His hands were in fists, tucked under his arms. On an inhale, he uncrossed his arms and uncurled his fingers for me to see.

“There are a few small scars, but I can’t see anything strange.” My breathing shuddered. I dreaded to ask. “What did they do?”

“They broke all my fingers.” He closed his fists again when I gasped. “That was more painful than my leg.”

“You were tortured,” I whispered in horror.

“Yes.” His lips thinned. “I didn’t want these guys anywhere near you, Jenny. I needed to heal and to walk again before I could let you see me.”

“Why?” A fleeting expression around his eyes and mouth clued me in. “You thought I would not be able to handle your injuries, that I would not cope. You arrogant arsehole.”

“Jenny.” He sounded shocked at my expletive. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“And disappearing out of my life without a word didn’t worry me?” A sneer pulled at my lips. “You need a few classes in psychology.”

“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to handle it. I still don’t know. That whole mission went belly up.” He blinked twice. “The mission went bad and I didn’t want any of that to touch you.”

It grew quiet between us. I needed time to think about this, to analyse how I felt about it. This was a lot to assimilate. A question that had been nagging at me came to the fore.

“Where were you tonight when I phoned you?” I asked. The pull of his mouth and tension around his eyes gave me worrisome clues. I leaned forward and glared at him. “What are you ashamed of?”

“I’m not ashamed.” He flinched at my pointed look. “Not really ashamed, rather worried about your reaction.”

“My reaction to what?”

He straightened his shoulders and looked me in the eye. “I bought the apartment next to yours and have been living there for the last six weeks.”

For a few seconds I forgot to breathe. With a stuttering gasp, I jumped out of my chair and walked away. I stopped in front of an exceptional reproduction of a Frida Kahlo self-portrait. I focussed on the two parrots sitting on her shoulders, hoping it would calm me. It didn’t work, so I closed my eyes.

“Jenny?” Colin’s voice reached me through a fog of Mozart’s String Quartet No. 8 in F major simultaneously playing in my head while I mentally penned it down.

I opened my eyes and found myself sitting in Colin’s chair. I didn’t know how I had got there or how long I had been sitting there. He was kneeling on the floor in front of me, looking very concerned. “Are you with me?”