Dark Matter (44 page)

'It has been like this for the last few days.  Everything is being searched, escaped criminals or something.'

'How exciting.'  Solomon tried to sound in awe of the situation.

'A nuisance is what it is.  I've lived in Chiasso for over ten years and this is the worst I have seen it.'

The bus pulled forward; clear of the queue it joined a much shorter queue of other buses and coaches.  After twenty minutes, the bus pulled up to the barrier.  A Guardia di Finanza, an Italian border guard stepped on to the bus.  He scanned the passengers.  There were no children on the bus, so he stepped off again and waved it through.  Solomon was sweating, her breath shallow gasps.

'Are you OK sweetie?  You seem awfully pale.'

'I am OK thank you.  It is just my allergies.'

The Swiss side didn't even bother to stop the bus, just waved it through. 
Just like that,
she thought,
just like that and we are in Switzerland.
Then she remembered that she was alone, Natasha was elsewhere, her status unknown. 
I hope she is waiting by the school as I told her to.

Solomon asked the driver which stop was closest to the school.

‘It is just three stops ahead; from there it is only a five minute walk to the school.  I will tell you when we get to the stop.’

“Scuola Primaria Di Castelli.”  The driver announced.

Solomon made her way forward and asked the driver which in which direction the school was.  He pointed down a long road and said that it should be sign posted along the way.  Solomon struggled with their luggage walking down the road, she saw the sign he had mentioned with what she guessed was the name of the school on it and headed up a side road.  She could see the school now.  The school was an old brick building, in the typical chalet style of the region, with ornate but imposing iron railings around it.  There was no sign of Natasha.  She walked closer and now she could make out slight movement in the hedge on the same side of the road as her, opposite the school.  There it was again, just poking out.  Then it stepped out on to the path.  Solomon recognised her daughter instantly, dropping their belongings she ran towards her daughter, sweeping her up in her arms and holding her tightly, so tightly that she gave out a small squeal.  Solomon relaxed her grip, just a little and started to sob with relief and exhaustion.  Finally, Natasha broke the silence.

'Mummy, where is Sheepy?'

Solomon started to laugh, then cry, then laugh again.  Still holding Natasha in her arms, she walked back up the road to collect their belongings and to reunite a very special daughter with her favourite toy.

They took the train to Zurich, with just one change at Lugano they arrived at just after ten at night taking a room at the Sleepinzurich Hostel on Alfred-Escher-Strasse near the lake and in the centre of Zurich.  The beds were comfortable and they both slept soundly, feeling like they had finally arrived somewhere.

In the morning, they left their luggage in their room and ventured out for breakfast and to try to solve the last mystery.

Into the land of clocks and chocolate,

they stopped where it was
              both safe and familiar,

“Do you have anything for me?”

“What is your name?”

She told him her name and her date of birth

and then she received the gift.

Solomon ran it repeatedly through her mind trying to make sense of it. 
We need a map, we need a map and some time to think about this.

The map was easy enough to come by; tourist maps of Zurich seemed to be everywhere.  She bought two different ones, trying to cover her bases.  They settled in a cafe called Zeughauskellar at Paradeplatz close to the heart of the city.  Solomon ordered them both a simple breakfast and proceeded to unfold the map and study it, trying to find something familiar.  It wasn't working, she had no idea what she was looking for, and she didn't even know if Zurich was the right place to look for it.  It felt like the right place, but she couldn't be sure. 
If not here, then where? 
She put the maps to one side and asked the woman at the next table if she would give her a cigarette.  It had been years since Solomon had smoked, that was back in her army days.  Now she just felt like she needed and deserved one.  Natasha looked disapprovingly at her mother, but said nothing. 
Just like I used to.
  Her mother had smoked, especially on theatre nights.  She had loved the theatre.  The romance, the glamour, and the wonderful companionship of other theatregoers.  Her father had never gone with her; he had no heart for the theatre.  No soul for it.  Looking back that was when her mother had been at her happiest, going to the theatre. 
Theatre
, wondered though Solomon's mind,
theatre.  I have seen that today, on the map.
  She picked up the last map she had been studying and looked over it again. 
There it is Theaterstrasse, Theatre Street.
  Close to the lake and probably only a five-minute walk away.  Solomon still had no idea what, exactly, she was looking for but if it existed it would be on Theaterstrasse, of this she was sure.

There was no theatre on the street.  The closet she could find was an old, small theatre that had since been converted into a bank. 
This must be it,
she hoped earnestly to herself.  She led Natasha by the hand and walked into the bank.

The AU Bank of Zurich is a small, hardly known private bank.  It is styled internally in keeping with the buildings previous use as a theatre, with mezzanine floors providing offices where the rows of seats were.  The entire building was underpinned with steel and concrete when the vault was moved underground at the turn of the twentieth century.  The vault itself having been upgraded every twenty to thirty years.  Which was always a delicate, costly, and complicated operation.  It essentially meant having to build the new vault away from the existing one so that the safe deposit boxes were in no way compromised.  Then, when the new vault was finished and approved, the bank's staff could transfer the boxes from the old vault to the new one.  The old vault was then removed making way for the next new vault in another two or three decades.

Solomon approached one of the members of staff.

'Excuse me; I believe I am supposed to collect something from here.'  Solomon felt foolish as soon as the words had left her lips. 

'I'll have one of our client managers see you.  Won't you please take a seat?'  The woman pointed to a chair at a polished oak table.  She moved another chair next to the first so Natasha could be seated as well.  'Can I get you something to drink?  Tea or Coffee perhaps?'

'Thank you, no, we are fine.'

The woman disappeared into a back office, returning promptly with a man beside her. 

'I'm Wilfred Schulz how may I help you?'

'I believe my mother left something with you for me.'

'What is your mother’s name?'

'Her name was Anastasia Bondarenko'

'I'm sorry for your loss.'  Wilfred had noted the use of the past tense.  'I'll have a look on our system.'

He made a few keystrokes, and then looked up.

'What is your name please?'

'Solomon Bondarenko'

'And your date of birth?'

Solomon gave him this too.

'That's fine Ms. Bondarenko, everything is in order.  If you would like to follow me I will take you to one of our client rooms.'

He led her and Natasha through the open offices into the back of the building and settled her in a pleasant, but windowless room.

'I will be back shortly with your safe deposit box.'

He returned carrying a long metal box placing it on the table he made to leave.  'If you need anything or you are finished, please just close the box and press the button and I will return.'

Solomon stared at the box.  She had come a long way to see the contents and was more than a little afraid at what she might find.  Disappointment hung in the air like a bad smell, waiting to spoil her day. 

'Go on mummy, it’s OK.’

Solomon took a deep breath and pulled the box closer to her.  It was remarkably heavy.  She lifted the lid and peaked inside.  The first thing to catch her eye was a letter, unmistakably in her mother’s handwriting addressed to her.  She picked up the letter and placed it reverently on the table.  She turned back to the contents of the box.  A purple drawstring purse.  It was quite large and unusually heavy,
it must be at least two kilos,
and it clinked when she picked it up.  She pulled at the strings and looked inside it.  It was full of gold coins.  Krugerrands, each weighing exactly one troy ounce,
there must be forty or fifty in here
.  She pulled the string tight and looked back in the safe deposit box.  There were stacks of money, different denominations, and currencies.  Each one had been parcelled like a brick.  She made a stack of bricks on the table, but decided not to count it,
after all there is more than enough there for our needs.
  There was one thing left, hiding in the back, she reached in and clasped it.  It was warm to the touch, heavy and cube shaped.  She pulled it free and examined it.  It was about ten centimetres on each side, gold in appearance and completely sealed.  There were no markings or anything to indicate its function or purpose.  There was no way to open it; although it was heavy, it was still too light to be solid.  She set it down on the table and picked up the letter from her mother.

Solomon read the letter to herself slowly, savouring each word at first, then her daughter saw her face fall.  Natasha wanted desperately to ask what was wrong, but anything that could make her mother react like this she didn't really want to know.  Natasha moved closer to her mother and rested her head gently on her side.  Solomon reached out instinctively and placed her hand on her daughter's head, stroking her hair.  Giving comfort and receiving it.  Solomon read on, a tear slowly finding its way down her cheek, the pain and the knowledge becoming overwhelming.  Finally, she reached the end.  There was some good news here at least, some hope for them both.  And all the others. 

Solomon folded the letter up and replaced it in its envelope. 
This is for me, and me alone.  Until it is time.

Solomon took some money from one of the stacks and replaced all the contents back in the safe deposit box, except for the letter, which she placed in her pocket.  She pressed the button.  Wilfred returned promptly.

'Is it OK to leave some items in the box?'

'Of course madam.  The box is yours; it has been paid for in perpetuity.  You may access it and use it as you wish.'

'Thank you.  In that case, could you return the box?  I will be back in a few days for the rest.'

'Of course madam.  May I show you out?'

As Wilfred showed them to the door one of the cashiers dialled the number for the Russian Embassy, she figured the reward offered would make a welcome addition to what she considered to be her low pay.

Solomon and Natasha returned to their hotel.  Solomon deciding that as they now had money a change of hotel was in order.  They booked into the Hotel California on Schifflaende, still in the city centre but in the prettier old part.  It also offered a swimming pool, which she figured, would provide a nice change of pace for them both.

Once checked in Solomon realised that now they had someone to call for help and she wanted to lose no time in contacting them.
Besides, he knew my mother.

10:40
              27 December  [10:40  27 December GMT] 

Stately Home of the 19th Duke of Hertfordshire,  England.

The Duke was in his gardens, personally attending to his roses.  The bushes in question were very old having been planted by the 15
th
Duke over a hundred and fifty years before.  He held a stem in his hand and smelt its scent.
Still as fragrant as when it first went in,
he reflected.  He liked his home, its grounds, and the privacy it offered.  He continued his spraying.  He could hear a car approaching now, up the long gravel drive.  He turned and saw it.  It stopped in front of the formal entrance. 
Like anyone uses that these days.
  He thought about when it had been in regular use.  The precession of horse drawn carriages that brought friends from all corners of the country to stay for a couple of weeks at a time. 
Those had been good days; life was simpler then, much simpler. 
He walked over to meet the people in the car, who were just getting out.

'Can I help you?'  He asked simply.

'We are here to see the Duke, is he at home?'

The Duke looked down at his clothes.  A rough work shirt under overalls.
I guess I must really look like the gardener.

'Whom may I say is calling?'  

'My name is Jack Hamilton, this is my brother George, this is Jane Spencer-Brown, and the gentleman engrossed with his data pad is John Deeth.'