“I’m doing what I always do,” he answered. “Working a lot. Céline is gone, isn’t she?”
“Yes, stud. Jean-Paul got her a contract in Milan. She was still up to all her old tricks before she left. On Tuesday she managed to get into the building and planted herself in front of the apartment door and started to kick it because Suzanne wouldn’t let her in. Jean-Paul went out and threatened to have her committed again if she didn’t stop behaving like a crazy person.”
“She is crazy, she’s completely unhinged.”
“I’m sorry to stick my nose where it’s not wanted, stud, but how did you get involved with her? She’s beautiful and sexy, that I know, but…”
“We started seeing each other right after she arrived in Paris. She was older than me, which attracted me, very beautiful, and she made passes at me every time I saw her, which was often because she was living with her aunt Sofía at the time and you already know that Sofía goes to my parents’ house regularly. I had just gotten married, I was young and stupid. You can imagine the rest. Céline became a drug to me. I liked that she was so frenzied, free and audacious, she was everything my wife wasn’t. I left her after Samara died.”
“Is it true you were with her when your wife had the accident?”
“Yes. Samara was looking for me everywhere to…” He looked down and played with the spoon. “…to tell me that she was pregnant.”
“Stud, that must have been terrible for you.” Al-Saud nodded without looking at her. “I’m so sorry.”
“The guilt overwhelmed me. I left Céline. A year later, more or less, I started going out with a girl…”
“The Natasha who Celia mentioned?”
“Yes, Natasha. She was very sweet and made me feel better. A few months ago, she disappeared. She vanished from one day to the next. I know she’s okay, but I don’t know where. I had a lot of affection for her, but I didn’t love her. Right after Natasha disappeared, Céline called me and invited me to dinner. We started getting together occasionally until the thirty-first of December, when your friend came into my life and took over every corner of it, and gave me back my will to live and happiness. She showed me what it really was to be in love.”
His cell phone sounded like gunfire at this emotional point of the conversation. Al-Saud frowned and checked who it was.
“Juana, let me take this call.” He got up and walked to a less busy part of the restaurant. “Allô, Olivier. Ça va?”
“Eliah, I’m calling because I have news about the guy who attacked Miss Martínez in the chapel of the Médaille Miraculeuse.”
“Go on.”
“An individual says that he saw him on Sunday, March first, in Gare du Nord.”
“And you’re telling me now?” Al-Saud demanded, annoyed.
“I just got back from a trip, that’s why I’m reporting it now. He saw him in a bathroom in the station, where he caught his eye because he was taking some pieces of cotton out of his mouth. Just afterward, while he was waiting for his train, he saw the Identi-Kit on a television at a bar. Coincidentally, he ended up seeing him again on the same train he was taking. After looking at him for a long time, he was convinced that he looked very similar to the Identi-Kit, despite having bulging cheeks.”
“Thanks to the cotton. Did you find out where the train was going?”
“It was a Thalys whose final destination is Brussels.”
“Do you have the list of passengers that got on at the Gare du Nord?”
“Yes, I’ll send it to you.”
“Yes, do that, but for now read me the last names of the passengers quickly, so I can see if any of them sound familiar.”
When he got to J, Al-Saud sharpened his attention. Jacopi, Jaspers, Jennings, Jürkens. There you are, you little son of a bitch, he muttered to himself. Where are you now?
“Did any of the names sound familiar?”
“No, none. I’m sorry. What will you do with this information?”
“We already reported it to our colleagues in Brussels. They’ll check the security cameras in the train station at the time that the Thalys arrived. I also called you to tell you that Forensics determined the type of nerve agent that killed the Iraqi boys. It was an extremely high dose of cyclosarin, a nerve agent similar to mustard gas, often used in Iraq during the war with Iran.”
“Cyclosarin isn’t like ricin, which can be made in a home laboratory. It requires serious technology. What countries produce it?”
“Since the Convention on Chemical Weapons from the UN, its production is prohibited. Of course, not all countries have ratified the convention. We have to investigate them. As you can imagine, Iraq is at the top of the list. I’ll keep you informed of any advances.”
“Merci beaucoup, Olivier.”
“De rien, Eliah.”
He went back to the table.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. It was an important matter.”
“Don’t worry, stud.”
“Juana, it’s been seven days since that awful episode. I’ve been patient, I’ve respected her wish to be alone, but I need to see her. She can’t keep denying me. Matilde and I have to talk.
“I ask her every day, stud.”
“What does she say?”
“She says that if she looks at you, she’ll see you in bed with Celia and she can’t bear it.”
“Merde!”
“Stud, Matilde asked me to get the rest of our things from your house. We’re out of clothes. Can we go now? I have time before I have to go to the institute.”
He agreed reluctantly; he had cultivated the illusion that if Matilde’s clothes and things were still in the house on Avenue Elisée Reclus, there was still hope that she would come back to him. That hope was starting to vanish.
“Afterward I’ll take you to the institute.”
They parked the Aston Martin at the doors of the Lycée des Langues Vivantes. Al-Saud was in a terrible mood because Juana hadn’t packed the dresses, shoes, purses, perfumes and all the rest of the gifts he had given Matilde in their relationship.
“If it were up to me, stud, I would have brought it all. But Mat was very insistent that I shouldn’t bring any of that and I don’t want to contradict her. What a waste!” she lamented.
They remained in silence inside the Aston Martin. Juana knew that Al-Saud was waiting for Matilde to arrive. A few minutes later, Ezequiel’s Porsche parked in front of them, and Diana and Markov’s car followed behind. Al-Saud straightened in his seat to see her. Ezequiel offered her his hand to help her get out. Juana opened the door of the Aston Martin and stuck half her body out.
“Hey, Mat!” she yelled, and Matilde spun around.
Al-Saud saw that her gaze passed from her friend toward the driver’s seat. She couldn’t see him through the tinted glass; however, they both felt the energy that flowed between them. I love you, he said with his thoughts. He got out of his car and stood, leaning on the doorframe. He took off his Serengeti glasses and looked at her across the short distance. When he made a move to approach her, she rushed into the institute. Juana rolled her eyes.
“Be patient with her, stud.”
Matilde was arranging her notebooks and books on her desk when Juana sat down next to her.
“Why didn’t you wait a minute? The stud wanted to talk to you.”
“Now you’re better friends with the stud than with me?”
“Don’t be unfair. The poor thing is devastated. He sought me out to talk about you, to find out how you are.”
“I’m devastated as well. Didn’t you tell him?”
“Yes. He’s very worried that you’re not eating well.”
“Ha! Not eating well. That’s the least of my problems.”
“Why won’t you agree to meet him so you can fix the problems between you?”
“I already told you a thousand times.”
“Enough with this business about imagining him with Celia in bed! That’s just an excuse.”
“An excuse? The man
I love and lived with for almost a month and a half is my sister’s lover and I’m just making excuses?”
“He is not your sister’s lover. He was.”
“You don’t know that. They were together the night of the party at Jean-Paul’s.”
“He wanted to talk to her, to tell her that he was in love with you and they were finished forever.”
“You believe that?”
“Of course!”
“When I asked him if they had been lovers, he said they were just friends. He lied to me!”
“What did you want him to say? ‘Matilde, I fucked your sister because she’s a whore and she threw herself at me’?”
“Celia hates me because I took everything away from her, my father and grandmother’s love. I don’t want to take Eliah from her as well.”
“You know what, Mat? You’re making me want to slap you, so I’d better go sit on the other side of the classroom.”
“No, don’t go,” she implored her, grabbing her wrist. “Tell me the truth, do you believe him when he says that after me, he never got together with her again?”
“Matita, I know men much better than you and I know well when they’re lying and when they’re telling the truth. The stud is telling the truth when he says that he can’t live without you, that he loves you more than ever and that he hasn’t been with Celia at all since he fell in love with you.”
Juana’s words shook and moved her, and prepared the ground for the speech that followed.
“This isn’t about the thing with Celia, it’s about your pride. Why won’t you admit that you haven’t wanted to face Eliah since he found out that you can’t have children? You detest the idea that he knows that you’ll never be a mother, that you couldn’t give him children if you married. Or am I wrong?”
Matilde jumped up from her desk and ran to the bathroom. Juana followed her and hugged her when she found her crying.
“I love him, Juana! I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. What I’m feeling is so huge that it doesn’t even matter to me that he’s a mercenary, or an arms dealer or whatever he is.”
“The stud told me that it’s libel and they’re already suing Paris Match and the journalist who wrote the article.”
“You and I know there’s some truth in all of that.”
“And is there some truth to my saying that you won’t face him out of pride?”
“Yes, pride and shame. I didn’t want him to know that I’m an incomplete woman. I know Eliah wants to have children. He told me once and Yasmín mentioned it too. I can’t bind him to me, I can’t. On the one hand, I can’t give him children and, on the other, we both know that the disease I had could return; the risk of a relapse is high. I don’t want to tie him to a sick person.”
“Don’t say that! That fucking disease isn’t going to touch you again.”
Matilde put her hands on the granite sink, leaned forward and let her head hang. She blew out a sigh.
“If it’s true that Celia loves him so much, I have to disappear to give them a chance. She can give him children and I can’t.”
“How could you wish that evil on the love of your life? Because I promise you, Mat, wanting him to marry that crazy snake Celia is to wish evil upon him.”
The next Tuesday morning, Al-Saud was in a meeting with the Israeli businessman Shaul Zeevi when his cell phone rang. It was Juana. He excused himself and picked up anxiously.
“Stud, Auguste Vanderhoeven called us yesterday. Remember him? The doctor from Healing Hands?”
“Yes,” he grunted.
“He informed us that we’ll be leaving for the Congo sooner than we planned. There’s been a very serious meningitis outbreak and they need every available resource. And we’re available.”
“When are you leaving?” he asked, his heart racing.
“Next Monday, April sixth. We’re already getting everything ready. Today we’re going to get the vaccine for yellow fever.”
“It’s over, Juana! I’m going to see Matilde even if I have to break down the door to Trégart’s house and drag her back out.”
“Wait, stud. An idea is coming to me. Sofía invited us to have dinner on Saturday because she wants to say good-bye to us. And she’s going to give us some packages for Amélie, her daughter. Why don’t you ask Sofía to invite you to dinner? Then Mat won’t have any option but to see you and you’ll be able to talk.”
Matilde walked into her aunt Sofía’s apartment and spotted him immediately. Al-Saud looked at her and smiled. He wasn’t alone. Yasmín, Sándor and Alamán were with him. She didn’t realize that Ginette was taking off her coat and shika. Juana shrieked, happy to see them, and greeted them jumping up and down histrionically, while Fabrice frolicked around her like a puppy. Sofía and Nando kissed Matilde and led her to the living room. She still didn’t feel in control of herself when Sándor and Yasmín approached her to thank her for what she had done for him in the chapel of the Médaille Miraculeuse. Alamán hugged her and, with his eternal goodwill, got a smile out of her. Eliah moved away from his brother and bent down to greet her. He kissed her near the corner of her mouth, just as he had done in the past, and whispered to her, “Hello, my love. You look beautiful.”
Matilde hurried away and slipped into the group, seeking refuge. Eliah stared at her, heartbroken.
“Chin up,” Alamán urged him. “Soon her anger will pass.”
“Please, take care of what I asked you.”
Alamán nodded and went deeper into the apartment. He found Ginette in the kitchen.
“Tell me, Ginette. Where did you put our coats?”
“In the first bedroom on the right.”
They were on a sofa. He immediately spotted those belonging to Matilde and Juana. If Juana was carrying her phone with her, the matter would be more complicated. He rummaged in her purse and found it. Then he took out the battery and inserted a satellite tracking transmitter the size of a flattened lentil. He put the phone back together and slipped it into her bag. As for Matilde, Eliah had asked him to put it in her shika, which she took with her everywhere. Alamán frowned at it. It wouldn’t be easy to place the little lentil in this loose fabric. He decided on the strap, which had a little hem. He took out his Victorinox knife and made a little slit at the seam of the strap, where it met the body of the bag. He peeled a label off the minuscule transmitter, pushed it inside and pressed down so it would stick.
Sitting opposite Matilde, Al-Saud looked at her skinny wrists and saw how she pushed the food around on her plate without enthusiasm. Matilde, feeling his gaze fixed on her, urged herself to bolt down tiny pieces of meat and vegetables and to pretend that she was in good spirits. Still, it was hard for her to swallow them; her glottis had closed up. Everyone else was laughing and talking about their trip to the Congo, but she felt an increasing sense of alienation and bottomless anguish. She kept her eyes on her plate and moved them around a very limited radius, until she allowed herself to raise them just a few inches to take in Eliah’s big, dark, hairy hands. She hadn’t been fooling herself, a fleeting glance at them was all it took to imagine them on Celia’s skin. She lifted her chin and looked at his lips, and imagined them running down her sister’s inner thigh. She couldn’t stand that he had been with Celia. When their eyes met, it didn’t matter if Al-Saud saw tears in her eyes because she knew that he would also see fury.
It felt like the longest, bitterest dinner of her life. She wanted to leave. She escaped into the library, where she had seen a phone. She would call Ezequiel and say, “Come to rescue me.” As she was dialing the number, she heard the click of the door closing. She looked over her shoulder and saw Eliah. She finished dialing and, before anyone answered, his index finger ended the connection. She rounded on him with the phone still pressed to her ear.
“How dare you?”
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I think there is. After everything we went through, y
ou and I, you can’t say that we have nothing to say to each other. You can’t leave without listening to me, without giving me the opportunity to explain myself…”
“Celia already explained very well how things are. And the article in Paris Match took care of telling me what you really are.”
It was a low blow and Matilde knew it. She saw the pain in his green eyes and immediately regretted saying it.
“That’s the first time in your life that you’ve been cruel to anyone,” Al-Saud reproached her. “And you had to do it with the person who loves you most.”
“I don’t want to talk anymore.”
Matilde swerved around him and headed toward the door. Eliah grabbed her by the wrist before she opened it. Matilde shook the contact off brusquely.
“Fine, we won’t talk here. Where, then?”
“Tomorrow, at Ezequiel’s house, at four in the afternoon.”
Matilde went back to the dining room with everyone else and Al-Saud stayed in the library to calm himself down. He was alarmed by Matilde’s hardness. He didn’t recognize the resentful, scathing woman he had just spoken to.
It became obvious, from the dark circles around their red-rimmed eyes, that neither of them had had a good night. Matilde held out her hand to indicate that he should sit, and Al-Saud noticed that it was trembling. When he thought of the happiness that they had shared, he had the urge to start screaming out of pain and impotence.
“How is Leila?” Matilde wanted to know, from an armchair all the way across the room from Al-Saud’s.
“Very sad. She’s barely said a word since you left.”
“I’m going to call her tomorrow to say good-bye.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over them. Matilde had her eyes on her intertwined hands as if she was praying, but she heard Al-Saud moving in his seat. He had perched on the edge of the seat and was staring at her fixedly.
“Matilde, my love, I know what happened in the George V was extremely unpleasant. But we can’t let the tantrums of a crazy woman—”
“Let me remind you that that crazy woman is my sister.”
“Yes, your sister, who didn’t and doesn’t mean anything to me.”