Entwined (59 page)

Ruda put on a pair of heavy gloves and picked up a long pole. Mike followed with a bucket of meat as she pushed her way through.

"Thank you. Please stay back, please back! And keep quiet. Thank you."

"He's under the big trailer with the red shutters, been there a good five minutes!" a trapeze artist informed. Ruda moved on. She entered the circle, two men parted hands to let her in.

Ruda looked around at the fearful faces. "Okay, everybody. I want to entice him back out into the open. Those with loose nets move in closer, everybody else stay back until I give word. He's probably panicky, but I can control him. Stay back…and keep silent."

They did not need to be told twice: No one wanted to get close. The boys began lining up the barriers used in the act, to make an open-air caged arena. A tractor towed Mamon's main cage in close. When everything was quiet, Ruda moved further into the clearing.

The back wall of the tent cut off one route and now the barriers hemmed Mamon in on all sides. He slid between the trailer wheels, his fur flattened, his paws muddy. Then he darted under another trailer, but the lights were on him, and the trailer was low. He struggled, began to toss his head, and eased himself out backward.

"Ruda, he's between the two trailers," Mike called out, then turned as Grimaldi came up behind him. Mike saw the gun, looked at Ruda, but said nothing. "They've got him trapped."

The cage was drawn closer, the trapdoor was open. Mamon could see it directly ahead of him. He was fifty to sixty feet away from the clearing, standing in an alley, trailers on either side. Behind him were the nets. The only clear route was ahead. He began moving slowly toward the arena. He paused, sniffing the air. He picked up Ruda's scent.

"Good boy! Come on, come on, Ma'angel…good boy. Come to Mama, come on…"

Mamon's eyes glittered like amber lights, his teeth gleamed as he approached her. Panic made his chest heave, saliva dribbled from his open jaw. Ruda bent down slightly, whispering encouragement. He kept on coming.

"Come on, good boy…come to Mama! He's coming, please keep silent. Don't unnerve him."

Rebecca slipped under the linked arms of two men. For a brief moment they were confused, thinking she was Ruda. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late to stop her—she was already running between the trailers.

Rebecca saw the flares and the nets, but they meant nothing to her. She wanted to get to Ruda.

By now, Helen and Louis had been told what was going on and remained waiting outside the ring of men. They couldn't see Mamon, but they could feel the electrifying tension in the crowd.

Torsen joined them. Helen explained that they were still trying to capture the lion. Louis tried to make out Rebecca in the flickering lights, but he couldn't see her, and looked toward Ruda. He was struck by the eerie likeness, her long shadow directly behind her, making her look like a giant.

Mamon continued his slow journey down the aisle between the trailers, while Rebecca ran the last few yards between the ones adjacent to him, and suddenly she burst into the clearing.

"Ruda…
Ruda
!"

There she was between Ruda and Mamon, unaware that the big cat was no more than twenty feet behind her. Mamon froze. Head up, he sniffed the air, then lowered his head and growled, darting back. Crazed, he ran toward the nets, then made an about-face, snarled with anger, and charged back into the clearing.

The men were ready with the nets. If Mamon came within range they would release the poles to drop the mesh over him. But he was wily, and kept his distance, moving further into the clearing. Now there was nothing between him and Rebecca.

Rebecca turned, saw Mamon, and looked back to Ruda in terror. Ruda's voice was soft, persuasive, cajoling, and calm. "Don't move. Stay perfectly still. Don't move, keep your hands at your sides."

Ruda inched forward, moving a fraction to her right, keeping Mamon directly in her line of vision. Mamon tilted his head to the right, to the left. He stepped forward, stopped. Crouched. He was ready to spring.

"Move toward me, one step at a time."

Grimaldi knew the cat was enraged enough to attack. He cursed the stupid bitch, his heart pounding, but he knew that if he were to make a move now it could be fatal for both women—like everyone else he remained motionless, his hand clenching the rifle.

Rebecca took one step forward, her back still to Mamon. He was watching her. She moved forward again, and he followed, low on his haunches.

Grimaldi raised the rifle, trying to release the safety catch silently, but the click made Mamon lift his head.

Ruda heard the slight sound, but did not take her eyes off Mamon. Her voice remained calm.

"Don't touch me, just move very slowly behind me. You can do it, nobody will hurt you, Bekka. Come on, I'm here. Ruda's here."

Rebecca edged behind Ruda, into her shadow. "Good, Bekka, good. Now, when I step forward, you step back. But slowly, very slowly. Wait!"

Mamon hurtled from the aisle, his outline clear to everyone. He seemed to begin a lunge and then stop, his chest heaving as he glared around. The sisters remained together.

"Back! Mamon, back…MA'ANGELLLL!"

The baron tried to break through the chain of men, but he was pushed back, forced to watch with everyone else as Ruda moved closer to Mamon, placing herself in danger as, step for step, Rebecca moved away to safety.

Louis pushed forward and grabbed hold of Rebecca. If she knew it was he, she gave no indication. She was rigid, her eyes riveted on Ruda.

"Is she safe?" Ruda kept her voice calm, never taking her eyes off Mamon. "Is she safe?" she repeated.

Grimaldi took a step into the arena. "I've got her. Now back up to me, I'm about four feet behind you, just start backing toward me, sweetheart, I'm here…Ruda?"

Slowly Ruda lifted her right arm, and let the whip drop. Then she lifted her left arm. Both her arms were now open wide, and there was a moment of total silence. No one moved, no one spoke. Luis, expecting Ruda to step back, shifted a fraction to his right, aiming the rifle. It happened in a split second.

Ruda did not move back, she stepped forward. Mamon and Ruda seemed to move simultaneously toward each other; then he reared up onto his hind legs, and sat back on his haunches. His massive paws enveloped her head and shoulders in a terrifying embrace.

Perhaps he was simply obeying a command, a command he was used to being given in the ring: KISS. Nobody heard the command, but she had said something. Those nearest her clearly heard her say "Ma'angel." Then the shots rang out.

The first bullet hit him in his right shoulder. His jaws sprang open as the second bullet hit him just above his right ear. The third bullet entered his right side. It struck his heart, but he was already dead. The big animal fell forward still holding her, his weight crushed her and snapped her neck. Ruda made no sound, no cry.

Four men had to roll him off her body. Her hands were clenched tightly to his fur, his blood covered her shirt. At first they thought one of the bullets had hit Ruda. Only when Grimaldi took her in his arms did they realize her neck had been broken. The big man held his wife, rocking her gently, sobbing. The helpers moved in closer, as if protecting him, shielding him. They formed a circle around him, and bowed their heads.

Mamon's carcass was dragged away in the nets. In death he seemed pitiful. All power gone. His limp body was sodden from the rain, his claws and feet caked in mud. The three bullet wounds were hidden beneath his thick fur, but the dark blood matted his coat.

Helen and Louis took Rebecca to the first aid room. She was dazed, robotlike. By the time the doctor came to see her, she was catatonic. She did not know where she was, she did not recognize Louis or Helen. When Dr. Franks arrived an hour later, they arranged for her to be taken to his clinic.

Torsen sat in the patrol car, his face so pale it seemed almost blue. "She's dead. The lion attacked her, she's dead…"

Rieckert swore. "Shit! What a thing to miss. Wish I'd been there."

Torsen shook his head. "No. No, I don't think so. It was one of the saddest, most horrifying things I have ever seen. I don't think I can drive home. Will you drive us back?"

Torsen moved to the backseat, and Freda held his hand. She knew he was crying, but that made her feel even closer to him.

"She seemed to give herself to the animal. She had no fear. From where I was standing I could see her face…and she smiled, I am sure of it…She smiled, as if she knew she was going to die."

Freda stroked his arm. "I see it every day, those who are afraid to let go, and those who welcome the end. It's strange, when it's over all the pain in their faces is gone."

He was quiet for a moment. "I know she killed once, maybe twice. No one will ever know exactly what happened and I doubt if I would ever have been able to prove it!"

♦ ♦ ♦

Luis Grimaldi, wearing a big overcoat, stood by the stonecutter, whose face and overalls were covered with a fine film of dust. The man's large, gnarled hands held the sheet of paper tightly, because of the wind. The rain that had not stopped for days made the ink drawing run.

"Can you do it?"

"Yes. It'll take a while, and I'll need a very large block. Black marble is the most expensive. I have to have it shipped in from Italy."

"I'll pay whatever it costs. I've brought you photographs. If there's anything else you need, you know where to contact me!"

The stonecutter watched the big broad-shouldered man walk out of his yard. He carefully folded the damp sheet of paper. He had received some strange requests for headstones in the past, but never one like this.

When the marble arrived he set to work. In truth, he relished the challenge. As the massive head began to take shape, it seemed to take on a life of its own. He buffed and polished, then stood back to gaze in admiration. He felt an enormous sense of achievement. This work surpassed any of the other angels he'd carved to guard over the dead.

♦ ♦ ♦

At first he had considered taking over the act, but every animal reminded him of Ruda, and he sold all the cats to the Russian trainer. He then sold the trailer to the circus management. Now there was nothing left to keep him in Berlin. He made no attempt to find Rebecca, but wrote her a brief note care of the Grand Hotel giving details of Ruda's burial. He also sent her the small black tin box, feeling that perhaps the contents would mean something to Rebecca. But he did not want to see her. He blamed her for Ruda's death.

Luis had no thought of what he would do next, he was at a loss. Without Ruda he didn't seem able to function in the world to which he had introduced her.

He knew just one thing. He had to wait until the headstone was ready.

The sky was clear and cloudless the day he went to say his last good-bye. Grimaldi could see it immediately, towering above the other tombstones, and his breath caught in his throat. He had done something right. Immediately after Ruda's death, when he had been inconsolable, blaming himself, the tears he had shed had broken from him in gasping sobs. Now he wept gently, tears welling up and spilling down his cheeks.

He towered above her, his wonderful head resting on his paws, his black mane, his wide black eyes. His jaw was open in warning not to touch or trespass upon the grave. Carved in gold was his name. MAMON.

After the tragedy Rebecca was in a catatonic state for quite some time. She had no memory of Ruda's death. She was kept heavily sedated until Dr. Franks felt she was mentally and physically strong enough to continue the sessions under hypnosis.

Helen Masters had returned to France. The baron wrote her about Rebecca's treatment, as if the letters were in some way therapeutic for him. The sessions took place every other day, to give Rebecca time to absorb and accept each new insight. Under deep hypnosis she began to recall the incidents that her adopted mother had sought to cover up. Her breakdowns were linked directly to Ruda's proximity. Whenever Ruda had tried to contact her, be it out of hatred or love, Rebecca's rages began. Louis Marechal checked the date of each incident against circus schedules. In each case, unbeknownst to Rebecca, Ruda had been physically near.

Rebecca's more recent mental breakdowns had coincided with the arrival of Mamon in Ruda's life. Mamon's strong will and expressiveness had forced Ruda to use all her determination to train him. In teaching him to learn the colors of the pedestals, she had tapped into Rebecca's subconscious. When Ruda was in close proximity, these color drills created havoc in Rebecca's head.

Gradually the jigsaw puzzle became clear: Rebecca was taken back to Birkenau. She described horrifying events, as she saw them when she was a child. At times she was quite cheerful. She spoke about the babies, how she had wanted one as a doll. She chattered on, about the funny thin people, the wires, the other children. At one session she actually stunned Dr. Franks by laughing.

"What is so funny?"

She recalled a young guard who used to play with the children.

He would rip up little bits of paper, put them on the end of his nose and blow them away like snowflakes. "We called him the Snowman!"

"Was this man kind to you?"

She fell silent, and Franks repeated the question. She whispered that he was not very nice, not all the time. Franks tried to find out why, but she was unsure…she said he would take children across the wire fences to the gray hot place where they baked bread. Whoever he took away never returned.

She talked at length about what her Papa had given her: the white frilly dress, the white socks, and patent leather shoes.

She giggled and she said she loved him. "I got a dolly with yellow hair. He said it was as yellow as the dirty Jews' stars."

The sessions disturbed Louis. He felt a hopelessness, a fear that Rebecca would never be returned to him. Often he had to walk out of the viewing room, but always he came back.