The Third Antichrist (48 page)

He grinned. ‘Yes. I can feel him all right. No wonder he made you jump.’

She stepped back and crossed herself. Then she spat on the floor. The she inserted her thumb between the index and middle finger of her right hand.

‘I recognize that movement. It’s the
mano fico
, isn’t it? To ward off the evil eye?’

Yola nodded. ‘Things move slowly in our culture, Damo. Many things broke down as a result of the Ghermani war – the one your people call the Second World War. But our dead are still linked in dreams to the living. That is the
cacipen
. To change too fast would be to insult the dead. They would forsake us. Then we would be lost. If one is not part of a community of both the dead and the living, one is nothing.’

‘I am part of no community.’

‘You are part of our community. You are my brother.’

‘Your brother is dead. The Corpus killed him.’

‘But you have taken his place, Damo. This is as it should be. When my brother shared his blood with you, you became a part of him. And so a part of me. That is why I let you touch me just now. Because you are my brother. I would have killed a
gadje
before letting him touch me.’

‘But you did not kill me.’

‘No.’

‘Because I am your brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘And because I am no longer a
gadje
.’

‘Oh no. You will always be a
gadje
.’ She smiled at the shock on his face. ‘But you are our
gadje
.’

Sabir smiled back. ‘Yola. I am fortunate to have a sister such as you. Did I ever tell you that?’

77

‘Cut the lights before you hit every corner.’

‘But it is dangerous. We will tip over the cliff edge.’

‘Do what I say, Trakhtenberger.’

‘When may I put the lights back on again?’

‘When we have ascertained that there is no lodge, and no lake, round each corner.’

Trakhtenberger was tempted to glance back at his commander, but the Frenchman beside him was holding the pistol on his lap, and Trakhtenberger had always felt uncomfortable around pistols.

He cut the lights, coasted round the next corner, and switched them back on again. He prayed that there would be no lake. No lodge. And very definitely no people. That the ones they were pursuing so relentlessly had found some other way down the mountain – an unseen track, for instance – and that this would be the end of it. He had liked Andrassy. The man had been a joker. Always game for a laugh. But when Andrassy had killed the Jehovah’s Witness with his boot, Trakhtenberger had been tempted to give up being a Crusader and return to his village. It had been made clear to him, however, and in no uncertain terms, that this was not an option open to him.

‘You have this man’s blood on your head as clearly as we have. He was an apostate. The killing is righteous. The Coryphaeus has pardoned us and forgiven us the sin of it already.’

Trakhtenberger didn’t want to be involved in any more killings, pardoned or otherwise. He wasn’t a religious man. The Coryphaeus was impressive, yes. But Trakhtenberger didn’t believe for a moment that he was the Second Coming. But one ate well in Albescu, and earned good money. And one’s wife was happy. And happy wives kept their husbands satisfied.

Before he had come to Albescu, Trakhtenberger would have done anything – sacrificed anything – to get away from working in the fields. It was hot in the summer, and cold in the winter. And the few times when it was just right, you were too exhausted to enjoy it. No, it was far better to attach yourself to someone with the power to make decisions on your behalf. Someone who would see to it that you were well fed and well provided for. In return for deference, of course. And obedience. That was the deal. And he had been happy to take it.

But not with someone like this Frenchman. This felt like attaching oneself to a runaway train.

‘Stop the car.’

Trakhtenberger pulled up.

‘Cut the engine.’

Trakhtenberger cut the engine.

‘Turn the key so that the steering wheel does not lock. Then let the car coast back round the corner. Don’t pump the brakes, though. I don’t want any light to show.’

Trakhtenberger did as he was told. His heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe the Frenchman had seen the lake? He, on the other hand, had seen nothing. Even now he was still having difficulty adjusting his eyes to the moonlight. The snow around them was almost luminous. At any other time Trakhtenberger would have admired the scene. Now it resembled purgatory.

‘Both of you. Follow me.’

Trakhtenberger exited the car and followed Markovich and the Frenchman round the corner. He saw the lake almost immediately. How had he not seen it before? And there, on the far bank, was the lodge, dominating the landscape like a gigantic Christmas cake, with the moon as its solitary candle.

The place looked uninhabited. No lights anywhere. Trakhtenberger shivered. The sooner they were in the car again and heading back the way they’d come, the better.

78

Sabir had seen the brief shaft of light reflecting off a low cloud. At first he had squinted and shaken his head. When he set the telescopic sight to his eye, however, he caught further movement at the edge of the road.

He cracked open the French windows and eased himself out onto the balcony. He didn’t want any glass between himself and what he was looking at. No sudden flash of the moon. No giveaway glint of light.

He cleared away the snow and rested the telescopic sight on the wooden crossbeam of the balcony, shading it with his hand. Now he was outside again, he could feel the cold eating through his clothes.

What had he seen on the corner? It was as if he had caught a dynamic backward movement of some sort. A deer, perhaps. Maybe that was it?

He sucked in his breath just as if he were about to discharge a rifle. The telescopic sight settled, giving him a fairer perspective. He let his breath out smoothly, as one would when blowing on freshly lit kindling down a piece of copper tubing.

First one figure came round the corner. Then another. There was a short pause. Then a third figure followed. Sabir watched them for a moment, in case it was the Romanian army on night exercise. But nothing followed them. No tanks. No armoured personnel carriers. No grunts carrying machine guns.

Sabir had gone through this scenario a thousand times in his head. He had spent three hours up here alone in the room. He had ironed out every wrinkle. Weighed up every possibility. There was only one way to play it.

He backed in through the French windows and sealed them behind him. Then he seized the Dragunov and hurried downstairs. He had five minutes tops until they reached the exterior of the lodge.

The place was silent as the grave. Everyone was asleep.

Sabir woke Calque first.

Calque opened his eyes wide. He seemed to have trouble focusing.

‘They are here. Three of them. Don’t say anything. I have prepared for this. Do exactly as I say.’

Sabir padded across the room and woke the other men. ‘You must come out into the hall. Quickly.’

Radu and Alexi were having difficulty standing upright, let alone engaging in any forward momentum.

Sabir bundled the empty bottles and dirty plates inside the sleeping bags while the three men were attempting to pull themselves together. He dumped everything he’d collected behind a sofa in the corner of the room.

‘Alexi. Calque. Take a shotgun each. Not you Radu. I need you to go in and lie beside Lemma. Act as if you have been sleeping near her. Watching over her. As if there have only ever been the two of you here. We will be waiting elsewhere in the house. Do you understand what I am saying?’

Radu shook his head. He was deeply, unmanageably, drunk.

‘Listen, man. If Lemma is still asleep, do not wake her under any circumstances. Go and lie beside her exactly where Yola has been sleeping. But you must send Yola out here to us. Quietly. They will be here in less than three minutes. When they enter your room, act surprised to see them. As if they have caught you napping. Play up your drunkenness. Get them to lower their guard. Do anything you can think of. Then we will come for you. Do you understand that?’

Calque pushed past Radu and into Lemma’s room. He was cursing steadily under his breath.

Yola was stirring. She had heard the whispering.

Calque knelt down beside her. ‘Listen. They are here. Three of them. Coming up the valley road on foot. No. Don’t wake Lemma.’ He helped Yola to her feet. ‘Sabir says the rest of us must hide. And it’s far too late in the day to argue with him. They would have caught us with our pants down if he hadn’t been watching. We have at the most three minutes until they reach the house.’ He shook his head in rueful acknowledgment of his own irresponsibility. ‘Radu and Lemma must stay in here alone. They must act as if there has only ever been the two of them in the lodge. Ever since they stole Andrassy’s car and left the village. It is our only chance.’ He grasped Yola’s arm and led her out into the hall.

Sabir steered Radu past them and into the room. He pointed beyond Lemma’s sleeping form. ‘Get into the sleeping bag,’ he whispered. ‘Pretend you are asleep. Let them be the ones to wake you. If Lemma tries to talk, stop her.’

Radu climbed into the sleeping bag. His eyes were wild.

‘Do you trust me, Radu?’

Radu mouthed something, but his words were indistinct.

‘Good. I reckon you must be sobering up. That was almost audible.’ He backed away. ‘Remember what I said. You are both sleeping. Let them wake you. It is better that Lemma is truly surprised. It will help, too, that you are still as drunk as a lord.’

Sabir hurried into the corridor. Yola was shaking Alexi. Alexi’s head was rattling around on his shoulders like a Punch and Judy puppet.

‘Yola, leave him alone. He’ll sober up quickly enough. I need you for something else.’ He took her arm. ‘When we go into the storeroom, I want you to take the third shotgun. You know how to use one?’

She shook her head.

‘It doesn’t matter. Just point it at their stomachs and flare your eyes. Men are scared shitless when women wave guns about, because they suspect they don’t know what they’re doing. Rest the shotgun on your hip if you’re really going to fire it, or it’ll blow you back out through the wall.’ He ushered Calque, Alexi, and Yola ahead of him. ‘This way. Behind the open door. So that if they check the place out you’ll have a moment’s grace to get the drop on them.’

‘Where are you going to be?’

‘Across the hall from Lemma. In the bathroom. There’s a shower stall over the bathtub. I’m going to be behind the curtain. I’m going to leave that door wide open too. That way they’ll be less likely to check it out. Plus I’ll be able to hear what’s going on. You three only come out if you hear my voice. Have you got that? Otherwise you keep
shtum
.’

Calque nodded. He was by far the least drunk of the three men. At fifty-five years old he was well past the self-abuse stage in his life, and knew how to pace himself when drinking alcohol. Which Radu and Alexi didn’t. ‘Are you sure Radu is up to this? He drank a raft and a half of brandy. Enough to fell a horse, if you ask me.’

‘He won’t need to act, then, will he?’