Obsession (Year of Fire) (80 page)

“Perfect.”

Medes drove them to Le Bourget Airport. They were playing a guessing game; Eliah gave her clues in French to make them harder for her, and Matilde had to guess the name of the place they were traveling. She only had three chances and he would get a prize if she lost. Matilde’s guesses were Brussels, Marseille and Amsterdam, and as the answer was London, Al-Saud got to choose the prize.

“That was a trick! You gave me misleading clues on purpose.”

“Yes, they were misleading because I wanted my prize.”

“What is it?”

“No, not now. Later. Tomorrow. Do you like London?”

“I’ve never been. When I was a child, I took an English course at Eton, but I never visited London.”

“You’re going to love it. I like it a lot. I would have preferred to take you to the Caribbean, Polynesia or Hawaii, and spend two weeks baking in the sun on the beach, but I thought that you wouldn’t want to miss more classes at the institute. And I can’t leave Mercure for so much time right now. We’ll do it in the future, when you get back from the Congo.”

Matilde spent the rest of the trip to Le Bourget in silence, snuggled into Al-Saud’s chest. In two phrases, he had mentioned much that tormented her: the true nature of Mercure, the future, and the Congo. He had asked her not to keep secrets from him and yet she suspected that he had many. She urged herself not to think about it right now; she wanted to let herself get carried away by the magic of the moment. Eliah was kidnapping her because he wanted to have her all to himself, as he had said on the morning of the convention for the two-nation state. She treasured every word, every gesture; she would keep them in her heart forever and be made happy by the memory.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Eliah owned a plane; he had mentioned it the first night they had made love, but at that point she hadn’t
been able to take in much information and she hadn’t thought about it again. It was a Gulfstream V, he informed her with a self-satisfied smile as he enjoyed her reaction to the impressive machine. Her shock continued when she entered the cabin; it was luxurious but more cozy than ostentatious, with seats similar to those in first class, upholstered in chalk-colored leather, with mahogany lining and folding tables and a lavender carpet. Matilde breathed in deeply to take in the smell of verbena that flooded the interior of the plane, as did a melody by Mozart. They were received by Captain Paloméro and the crew. The flight attendant was very solicitous to Matilde, and she and the rest of the crew concealed their curiosity at finding a female passenger other than Diana on board.

“Will you be doing the takeoff, Monsieur Al-Saud?” asked Paloméro, and Matilde’s heart started to race when Eliah said that he would. He told Matilde to sit in the seat next to the cockpit. The door would stay open so she could see the runway lights. Simple things, like the image of Al-Saud’s bottom and legs as he settled in the pilot’s seat, and the way he put on his headphones, excited her; even the precise, confident way he moved his hands over the endless number of buttons and levers made her flush.

“Look at the runway, my love,” Eliah instructed her, and she leaned forward to see the path made by two parallel rows of lights stretching out into the night.

The roar of the engines hit her with a wall of sound and took her breath away. Al-Saud turned his head and winked at her before starting out down the runway. She returned his smile. She felt ethereal, free and happy. The plane took off but Matilde barely noticed; it had been so smooth that her stomach didn’t even register it. Minutes later the flight attendant, who had introduced herself as Natalie, left the jump seat and sat in front of her.

“Monsieur Al-Saud is the best pilot I know. Later on, you’ll barely notice when we touch down at London City Airport, either.” She turned around and went to the tiny kitchen to prepare drinks.

As Matilde watched her stride off down the aisle, she felt a pang of jealousy. The flight attendant was very pretty, tall and thin, and she couldn’t help wondering if Eliah had slept with her. She cheered up a little once he came back to join her. They moved to an area where four chairs
formed a little living room. They drank Eliah’s favorite juice—orange and carrot—ate canapés and sandwiches and chatted. It was a short trip, so it wasn’t long before Eliah returned to the cockpit, took the controls and landed the Gulfstream in London City Airport, where he taxied the plane into a hangar. A Jaguar and chauffeur were waiting for them.

They drove to the Savoy along the edge of the Thames. Matilde preferred the bridges of Paris, but these were nonetheless a beautiful sight lit up and reflected in the river water. She had to admit that Tower Bridge was rather splendid. Matilde’s enthusiasm, which Al-Saud enjoyed so much, bubbled out when she saw the magnificence of the Savoy, which was located on the Strand. Matilde wasn’t particularly moved by the luxury or decoration, but the history exuded by every inch of the lobby, stairs, and elevators. The suite on the fifth floor amazed her. It had three rooms and a superb view of the river and the city.

“I want to make love to you in every room,” Eliah whispered into her ear, without touching her, while the bellboy brought in their luggage.

Al-Saud tipped him generously and said good-bye. Before he locked the door and closed the latch, he hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle. Matilde saw him coming toward her and laughed nervously. He didn’t return the laughter, but stared at her with such an intense fire burning in his eyes that she began to scamper away across the room. He caught up with her in no time and trapped her by the waist. Then he lifted her into the air as easily as if she were a piece of luggage.

They made love in all three rooms in the suite, on the chairs, against the walls, on the floor and on top of the circular table. They started out dressed and, as the night went on, the debauchery and excitement incited them to scatter their clothes as they went until they finally ended up naked in bed.

“It will always be like this for us,” Eliah panted in French, still inside Matilde, who was struggling to breathe under his weight. “I don’t know how I know, Matilde. I just know that the insanity that was unleashed within me the day I met you will die with me.”

The next morning, when she woke up, Matilde wondered where she was. She had slept deeply, in a way that she hadn’t been able to since the attack in the chapel. She didn’t know why that attack had affected her more than the one outside the institute. Sometimes, when she closed her
eyes to go to sleep, she would see the giant who had grabbed her by the waist. She was frightened by the lascivious way he had looked at her; she was disturbed by the memory of his smile, the smile of a madman, completely inhuman. She sat up among the feather pillows and sat there listening to the silence. She heard murmurs and the click of a door closing. Eliah appeared, wrapped in a hotel robe, and smiled at her.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he said into her lips, drawing Matilde to him.

They ate breakfast in the connecting room. Al-Saud voraciously ate a full English breakfast; the exercise from the night before and the lack of dinner had awakened his appetite, and he wolfed down his sausages, baked beans and bacon like a teenager. Matilde, in contrast, picked at her toast and scrambled eggs and sipped her coffee. Once they were bathed and dressed, they got ready to go out and see the city. When she went into the hall, Matilde was stupefied to find bags and packages filling the room.

“What is this?”

“What does it look like? They’re your birthday presents.”

“Eliah…” she murmured. “This is too much.”

“Nothing is too much for you.”

They hugged happily, until Matilde pulled away to open her presents.

“Where did you put all this?”

“Medes put them in the hold of the plane. Natalie brought them to the hotel today.”

They spent an hour opening packages and bags until the floor was littered with wrapping papers, ribbons, boxes and tags. Matilde didn’t even want to guess at the cost of all those clothes, shoes, purses and accessories.

“You’ve bought me so many things that I could open a store.”

“I should say that Yasmín helped me to choose almost everything. Do you like it?”

Sometimes Al-Saud’s worldly expression would disappear, replaced by one that made her think of a little boy trying to please his mother or teacher. She put the Louboutin shoe down on the little reception table and walked toward him. She hugged him and kissed him on the mouth.

“Thank you for showering me with such beautiful things. I love them.”

“You don’t appreciate them like Juana would,” he suggested provocatively.

“Juana
wouldn’t
appreciate them like I do, because you don’t mean to Juana what you mean to me.”

“What do I mean to you, Matilde?”

“Everything, Eliah.”

They didn’t get back to the Savoy until seven in the evening because they spent the whole day visiting the most iconic sights in London. They had lunch in a pub near Piccadilly Circus, and while they were eating fish and chips, Al-Saud’s cell phone rang. It was Juana; she wanted to wish Matilde a happy birthday.

“Half the world is ringing my number to wish you a happy birthday, Mat. Your old man, Eze, your aunt Sofía, your aunt Enriqueta.”

“My mother didn’t call?”

“No, Mat. But you always forget that there’s a huge time difference with Miami.”

“With Argentina too. But my aunt Enriqueta already called.”

“It’s even more in Miami,” Juana insisted.

“She’s going to forget just like last year.”

“What should I do with everyone if they call back? Should I give them the phone number to the stud’s house?”

“We’re not in Paris. We’re in London.”

Matilde held the phone away from her head as her friend shrieked with happiness. Eliah, who had been eavesdropping on the exchange about Matilde’s mother, wanted to fly to Miami and force her to call her daughter at gunpoint. Matilde cheered up once Juana told her what a good time she was having in Israel. In her enthusiastic, over-the-top way, she said that Shiloah was one of the most famous people in his country, that his face was all over the cities, that people stopped him on the street to greet him and the majority of the polls said that Tsabar, his political party, would win at least two banks of seats in the Knesset.

“Not bad for a newborn party!” Juana proclaimed, and Matilde sensed her friend’s pride as she said so.

They finished eating and continued their tour down the Mall until they got to Buckingham Palace. On the way back, they crossed Green Park and went into Fortnum & Mason, because Matilde said that her
grandmother Celia always talked about the store. They had tea big enough to feed five people on the top floor. When they got back to the hotel, they collapsed on the bed and passed out. When they woke up it was almost ten. Since they weren’t hungry, they decided to skip dinner. They bathed together and got dressed to go to a club, the Ministry of Sound. The idea of going out dancing didn’t really appeal to Matilde; she agreed because Al-Saud had spoken so enthusiastically about the place. The Jaguar stopped at 103 Gaunt Street, where a small crowd had gathered. They didn’t have to stand in line. It became obvious that Al-Saud was a regular, because the guards greeted him in a friendly manner and ushered him in immediately. Once they were inside, Matilde felt a pulsing in her chest, as if her thoracic cavity were being used as a bongo. The music boomed and the air grew thick. They took off their coats and left them in the coat check. She looked at Al-Saud and saw an avid glint in his eyes, as if this crowd, all jumping in unison, the music, the lights and the smoke excited him.

He couldn’t complain; he was the one who had suggested that she put on the red chiffon dress with the mermaid cut. Matilde wasn’t aware of the looks she attracted. Her long blonde hair, the pronounced neckline and the effect of the red on her skin were turning heads. He put a hand on the small of her back and led her to the VIP section, glaring at anyone who dared to look at her until they looked away. They sat down, and Al-Saud drew her toward him to bury his nose in her neck. Yasmín had recommended the perfume for her: Paloma Picasso, with deep, erotic notes. It almost seemed too much for a creature like Matilde. Al-Saud smiled arrogantly as the thought came to him that, in reality, the fragrance also described Matilde, or at least the sensual and ardent side that only he knew, because he was its creator and the only one who could access it. For other people, she would smell like a baby. For him, of Paloma Picasso.

“Promise me that you’ll only wear this perfume when you’re with me.” He was seized by tenderness as he saw the way Matilde blushed, fluttered her eyelashes and smiled. “Promise me, please,” he begged her.

“Why do you want me only to use it when I’m with you?”

“Because I want it to be
our
perfume.”

“And you’re only going to use A*Men with me?”

“I promise. And you can only wear Paloma when you’re with me.”

“Yes, I promise.”

They kissed with a frenzy that left them both unsettled. Al-Saud couldn’t stand up because his erection would have been too obvious. He recreated the scene of Ulrich Wendorff—he knew his real name now—trying to kidnap him to ease the pressure against the zipper of his pants. The waiter came over, beaming, leaned down next to Eliah and addressed him in Arabic. Al-Saud said something and slipped a fifty-pound note into his hand.

“What language were you speaking?” Matilde wanted to know.

“Arabic. He’s Saudi.”

The waiter came back a few minutes later and spoke to Al-Saud as he put juices and snacks on the table. The latter put his thumb up in an approving gesture.

“Shall we dance?”

“I’m not a good dancer and I’ll be even worse in these heels, so don’t make fun of me.”

Matilde had always hated clubs, the deafening noise, the environment corrupted by dense smells, the darkness, the colored lights, the excessive drinking, the cigarettes and other substances. Sometimes they thought that it would be a good idea to spray foam over everyone, and that really bugged her. The experience was different with Eliah. He moved well and if she kept her eyes glued to him, she forgot about her surroundings. She liked to see him happy. Al-Saud put his hands on her bottom, pressed her to his pelvis and moved with her in time to the beat of a remixed version of “I Want to Break Free” by Queen.