Read The Doctor Dines in Prague Online
Authors: Robin Hathaway
The Doctor Dines in Prague (13 page)
A
fter Ilsa disappeared inside the market, Jennifer hesitated, hovering outside. If she went in, Ilsa might see her; but if she didn't, her quarry might leave by another exit. Curiosity won out over caution. Jennifer entered the store.
fter Ilsa disappeared inside the market, Jennifer hesitated, hovering outside. If she went in, Ilsa might see her; but if she didn't, her quarry might leave by another exit. Curiosity won out over caution. Jennifer entered the store.
She spied Ilsa at the end of aisle 3. Cookies, crackers, pasta. Pretending to browse, Jennifer worked her way, crab-like, toward the opposite end of the aisle. Ilsa turned right. When Jennifer reached the end, she peered out in time to see Ilsa vanish through a swinging door. At first she thought it led outside. Then she saw the sign above it: ZÃCHOD The word meant nothing to Jennifer, but the silhouettes of a man and a woman below it were the universal sign for REST ROOMS.
Jennifer waited, her back to the sign, pretending to scrutinize the prices of beer and wine. Being able to buy alcohol in a supermarket was a novelty to Jennifer. In Philadelphia you had to go to a dreary state-owned liquor store that sold nothing but alcoholic beverages and related items. She kept her ears tuned for the sound of the swinging door opening behind her. A large family party, enjoying the adventure of shopping together, stopped directly behind her to discuss their purchases amid much hilarity.
When they finally moved on, Jennifer was afraid she had missed Ilsa. Had the woman come out while she was admiring the colorful wine labels? She looked swiftly around. No Ilsa. The next aisle was also empty. Her gaze was drawn to the front window, just as Ilsa appeared on the other sideâstriding away. She was empty-handed. Apparently she had not come to the store to buy anything, but merely to use the facilities. Jennifer would have liked to use them, too. But, like a good Hitchcockian heroine, she gritted her teeth and hurried after her prey.
F
enimore trudged up the tower steps behind the American tourist, pausing when he paused, climbing when he climbed. He hadn't the slightest idea what he would do when he reached the top. He would solve that problem when he got there.
enimore trudged up the tower steps behind the American tourist, pausing when he paused, climbing when he climbed. He hadn't the slightest idea what he would do when he reached the top. He would solve that problem when he got there.
The stairs were steep and seemed to go on forever. He hadn't remembered them being so steep or so numerous when he was with Ilsa. From time to time he glanced out the slit-like windows and glimpsed a slice of the city: red roofs, an emerald dome, or silver spires in the sun's ebbing rays. Now was not the time to admire the view. What
was
he going to do when he got to the top? Pretend to be touring, like that fellow ahead of him?
What a coincidence bumping into you, Redik,
he would say.
By the way, I just ran into Ilsa and she told me she'd like her tote bag back.
was
he going to do when he got to the top? Pretend to be touring, like that fellow ahead of him?
What a coincidence bumping into you, Redik,
he would say.
By the way, I just ran into Ilsa and she told me she'd like her tote bag back.
Spying the statue of the tower guard, Fenimore paused. He was nearing the top. He heard the door to the roof open with a sound like a mewing cat. It fell shut with a thud. Redik and the tourist were up there together now. What were they doingâchatting about the view? Maybe the tourist was asking Redik to point out some of the outstanding buildings so he could photograph them. The tourist would then circle the roof, taking shots at odd and interesting angles,
to impress the folks back home. This could go on for hours.
to impress the folks back home. This could go on for hours.
Fenimore examined the stone face of the tower guard more closely. There was nothing else to do. His face was pitted and worn from years of exposure to the weather. He must have been outside for many years. Fenimore wondered who had decided to bring him in. His thoughts turned inward. He began to fret about his friends. Would Jennifer listen to him and resist confronting Ilsa? His mind flew to Philadelphia. Were they getting along okay? Was Marie homesick?
Creeeeak.
The roof door opened.
The roof door opened.
Here he comes.
Fenimore's heart thumped loudly.
The tourist or Redik?
Fenimore's heart thumped loudly.
The tourist or Redik?
“Nice,” the tourist said. “I got some good shots.” He patted one of his many cameras as he slipped past Fenimore.
Waiting until the man's footsteps faded away, Fenimore took a deep breath. Then he climbed the remaining stairs to the top of the tower.
A
s the security guard approached, Mrs. Doyle prepared what she was going to say. She still held Marie and Horatio, each by an arm. The man on the ground was beginning to stir.
s the security guard approached, Mrs. Doyle prepared what she was going to say. She still held Marie and Horatio, each by an arm. The man on the ground was beginning to stir.
“What's going on here?” The guard grabbed Horatio by the collar. The boy's dark skin, dark clothes, and youth automatically made him the most likely suspect.
“No, Officer. There's your villain!” Mrs. Doyle pointed at the man who was now trying to sit up.
“What ⦠. What hit me?” The man succeeded in raising his torso and began rubbing his temple.
“He tried to snatch this little girl!” Mrs. Doyle cried.
While he sorted things out, the guard still held Horatio by the collar. A radio crackled on his belt. He spoke into it, asking for reinforcements. “What did you hit him with?” He gave Horatio a shake.
“My yo-yo.”
“Give it here.”
Reluctantly, the boy handed it over.
The guard examined it curiously.
The man was struggling to his feet.
“Don't let him get away!” Mrs. Doyle warned.
The guard pocketed the yo-yo and offered the struggling man his hand.
“That man tried to kidnap this child,” Mrs. Doyle repeated in frustration.
The guard ignored her. “Are you all right?” he asked the man.
“A little dizzy.” Now on his feet, the man continued to rub his temple.
Two other security guards joined them.
“This man needs medical attention. Take him to the first-aid station.”
The newly arrived guard took the injured man's arm. The first guard started to march Horatio off.
“Waitâ!” Mrs. Doyle cried.
Horatio sent a desperate look over his shoulder. The nurse was alarmed by his expression. She had never seen him look helpless and frightened.
“Where are you taking him?” Mrs. Doyle trotted behind, trying to keep up with them.
“The Main Office.”
“I'm coming, too.”
By way of an answer, the guard gave Horatio an unnecessary shove.
Holding on tightly to Marie's hand, Mrs. Doyle trailed after them. She racked her brain for some way to free the boy. If Dr. Fenimore were here, he would have thought of someâWait a minute! Horatio would be allowed one phone call. An avid watcher of
Law & Order
Mrs. Doyle was sure of that. And she knew exactly who he should call.
Law & Order
Mrs. Doyle was sure of that. And she knew exactly who he should call.
S
hadows were lengthening. Gaslights were flickering on. Jennifer was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a bathroom. She trudged forward, keeping her eyes fixed on the large blonde woman in front of her who was plowing her way through the crowdâfeeling like a tugboat in the wake of an ocean liner.
hadows were lengthening. Gaslights were flickering on. Jennifer was tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a bathroom. She trudged forward, keeping her eyes fixed on the large blonde woman in front of her who was plowing her way through the crowdâfeeling like a tugboat in the wake of an ocean liner.
The wide boulevards had given way to a warren of narrow, twisted streets. This was an older part of the city. There were more people here. Young couples and tourists, mainly, out for a good time. Jennifer envied them. No worriesâthey could loiter, browse ⦠and go to the bathroom whenever they felt like it!
She craned her neck, sighting the blonde head still bobbing above most of the others. Without warning, Ilsa turned into an alley and disappeared.
Now what?
Jennifer paused at the entrance and peered down the alley. Midway down, she saw Ilsa fitting a key into the lock of a wrought-iron gate. Stepping inside, Ilsa pulled it shut behind her with a clang.
Now what?
Jennifer paused at the entrance and peered down the alley. Midway down, she saw Ilsa fitting a key into the lock of a wrought-iron gate. Stepping inside, Ilsa pulled it shut behind her with a clang.
Jennifer let a few minutes pass before she went up to the gate. Pretending to admire the delicate ironwork, she gave it a surreptitious tug. It was locked fast. Next to the gate, embedded in the plaster wall, was a yellow porcelain tile with the number 16 painted
on it in black. As she left the alley, Jennifer carefully noted its name: LOUTKA ULI
KA. She had no idea what it meant. In the light of a street lamp, she flipped through her small Czech dictionary.
Loutka
: “doll, puppet.” Then,
Uli
ka:
“alley.” Doll Alley. Stowing the book, Jennifer dashed into the nearest café and accosted the first waitress she saw.
“Záchod!”
she said, making use of the word she had recently learned at the supermarket,
on it in black. As she left the alley, Jennifer carefully noted its name: LOUTKA ULI
KA. She had no idea what it meant. In the light of a street lamp, she flipped through her small Czech dictionary.Loutka
: “doll, puppet.” Then,
Uli
ka:“alley.” Doll Alley. Stowing the book, Jennifer dashed into the nearest café and accosted the first waitress she saw.
“Záchod!”
she said, making use of the word she had recently learned at the supermarket,
That emergency taken care of, she returned to Loutka Uli
ka. It was darker now but she could still make out the large, square house with plaster walls, tile roof, and twin brick chimneysâfrom the Renaissance period; a modern house by Prague standards. A strip of lawn bordered with flowerbeds lay between the gate and the house. In a few weeks those beds would burst into colorful bloom. Now they resembled newly prepared graves. Could this be where Fenimore's cousins were being held captive? Or was it simply Ilsa's home? Or a combination? It was too opulent to be the home of a professor, Jennifer decided. Was the locked gate the only entrance? She explored the adjacent alley to which the back of the house abutted. Nothing but a blank wall. No doors. Not even a window. Discouraged, she returned to the front gate. Topped with iron spikes, there was no chance of scaling it without risking serious injury. Desperately she scanned the alley, her gaze finally coming to rest at her feet. Beneath them lay an iron grate.
ka. It was darker now but she could still make out the large, square house with plaster walls, tile roof, and twin brick chimneysâfrom the Renaissance period; a modern house by Prague standards. A strip of lawn bordered with flowerbeds lay between the gate and the house. In a few weeks those beds would burst into colorful bloom. Now they resembled newly prepared graves. Could this be where Fenimore's cousins were being held captive? Or was it simply Ilsa's home? Or a combination? It was too opulent to be the home of a professor, Jennifer decided. Was the locked gate the only entrance? She explored the adjacent alley to which the back of the house abutted. Nothing but a blank wall. No doors. Not even a window. Discouraged, she returned to the front gate. Topped with iron spikes, there was no chance of scaling it without risking serious injury. Desperately she scanned the alley, her gaze finally coming to rest at her feet. Beneath them lay an iron grate.F
enimore slowly pulled open the door to the roof, trying by sheer willpower to prevent it from creaking. Carefully he drew the door closed behind him. Redik was nowhere in sight. He must be on the other side of the tower. Cautiously, Fenimore made his way along the narrow path between the tapering copper roof and the slim iron railing. Coming to the last bend in the path, Fenimore peered around the tower roof and saw him. His back to Fenimore, Redik was bending over the blue tote bag. As Fenimore watched, he reached inside and pulled something out. The royal crown. Its gems glowed red, yellow, blue, and green in the waning afternoon light. Redik gazed at it for a long moment, then placed it firmly on his head. Remembering the emperor's curse, Fenimore stifled a gasp.
enimore slowly pulled open the door to the roof, trying by sheer willpower to prevent it from creaking. Carefully he drew the door closed behind him. Redik was nowhere in sight. He must be on the other side of the tower. Cautiously, Fenimore made his way along the narrow path between the tapering copper roof and the slim iron railing. Coming to the last bend in the path, Fenimore peered around the tower roof and saw him. His back to Fenimore, Redik was bending over the blue tote bag. As Fenimore watched, he reached inside and pulled something out. The royal crown. Its gems glowed red, yellow, blue, and green in the waning afternoon light. Redik gazed at it for a long moment, then placed it firmly on his head. Remembering the emperor's curse, Fenimore stifled a gasp.
With the crown perched at a rakish angle, Redik began to danceâa mincing two-stepânot unlike one of his own puppets. His concentration was complete. Fenimore thought that even if he shouted, the man would not hear. Redik was in another world.
As he danced, he hummed. During one turn, his gaze was caught by the vista of Prague shimmering before him, silver and gold, like the crown. He paused, spreading his arms wide, as if trying to embrace the whole city. Wearing a voluptuous smirkâthe expression
of a greedy child who has just snatched a coveted toy from a playmateâhe slapped the crown on one side and cried,
“M
j!”
(
“Mine!”
) He removed the crown and cradled it against his chest. Gazing down at it, he murmured gently, “And this is only the beginning ⦠.”
of a greedy child who has just snatched a coveted toy from a playmateâhe slapped the crown on one side and cried,
“M
j!”(
“Mine!”
) He removed the crown and cradled it against his chest. Gazing down at it, he murmured gently, “And this is only the beginning ⦠.”
Fenimore had to strain to catch the words.
Redik raised his eyes once more to the view of the city and leaned over the rail. Gesturing with his free hand, he cried out, “Soon, you will be mine, too. All mine!”
Fenimore had no trouble translating the simple sentences. An unfamiliar sensation rose in his breast. A fierce, unreasoning rage. He rushed forward, reaching for the crown. Miscalculating, he fell against Redik, knocking the crown to the ground. They grappled for a moment. Redik lost his balance and began to topple. Fenimore clutched at the tail of his jacket, but it slipped from his grasp. The puppet master fell over the rail. His scream seared Fenimore like a flame. He hit the water with a dull smack that Fenimore barely heard.
But the people on the Charles Bridge heard itâyoung couples strolling, with eyes only for each other; older couples, arm in arm, musing on their past; artists absorbed in their sketches; and musicians engrossed in their notes. They all glanced up at the sound, just in time to see a man disappear beneath a jet of water.
Fenimore grabbed the crown, stuffed it in the tote bag, and ran down the stairs.
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