Zig Zag (49 page)

She
hadn't spoken to any of her colleagues, not only because she'd sworn
she wouldn't, but also because by now, she'd stopped bothering to
keep track of them. But she'd collected news clippings over the
years. She knew, for example, that Blanes had disappeared from the
scientific scene. His old, now-retired mentor, Albert Grossmann, had
cancer, and some people said that Blanes was so traumatized by it
that he could no longer work. Marini and Craig might have been
swallowed up by the earth for all she knew, though she'd heard Marini
no longer taught. And the last news she had about Jacqueline Clissot
and Reinhard Silberg was that they'd retired from academia. Clissot,
she heard, was "ill" (though no one knew what kind of
"illness" she had). And Nadja, she'd lost track of her
entirely. As for herself...

"You're
getting Setter and better, Elisa. We're going to give you some good
news. Starting next year, our sessions will be only once every two
months. Does that make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Merry
Christmas, Elisa. May 2012 bring you much happiness."

Well,
there she was, that December night, dressed in Victoria's Secret
lingerie and a slinky robe, ready to have her
escalivada
and
then spend the rest of the night playing her Mr. White Eyes game. And
then, suddenly, came this voice from the past. Nadja.

THERE
was
a photograph. It showed a young but haggard man with a wispy beard
and wire-rimmed glasses, standing beside a pretty woman (though her
face was too round) holding a blond, messy-haired boy of about five
in her arms. The boy, unfortunately, had inherited his mother's
too-round face. Mother and son grinned widely (the boy was missing
teeth), but the man looked serious, as though forced to pose in order
to avoid a tiff. The picture had been taken on a lawn, and there was
a house in the background.

She
imagined other, similar scenes. Needless to say, the article didn't
give any details and she knew that they were just a product of her
fantasy, as were Mr. White Eyes' wicked words, but still... Those
images flashed up in her mind like a slide show.

They
ripped his eyes out. Tore off his genitals. Cut off his arms and
legs. The boy probably saw the whole thing. They probably made him
watch. "Look what we're doing to Daddy ... Do you still
recognize Daddy?"

She
sat on the carpet in front of the TV, legs crossed and only
half-covered by her robe, as if about to adopt the lotus position.
But she wasn't watching TV; she was using the attached keyboard to
surf the net. She was on a British news channel, checking the
breaking stories. This was the only place the story had been covered,
Nadja said, maybe because it had just happened.

"My
God, how awful, poor Colin ... But..." She stopped herself
before she could add,
Why
are you telling me this three days before Christmas?

"They
told Jacqueline a few things that the story doesn't mention,"
Nadja said through the speakerphone on Elisa's cordless. "Colin's
wife was found in the middle of the night, running down the road
screaming. That was how they knew something was wrong. The boy was
found in the backyard. He'd spent the whole night outside and had
frostbite. That's what I don't understand, Elisa. Why would she leave
her son at home without even calling the police, or anyone? What must
have happened, for her to do that?"

"It
says here that some men broke in and threatened them. Dangerous
criminals, ex-cons. They were on drugs and needed money. Maybe she
got away."

"And
abandoned her young son?"

"The
men who attacked Colin must have forced her to. Or she just panicked.
Or went crazy. Some experiences can ... can make people..."

Blood
everywhere. On the ceiling, the walls, the floor. The boy in the
yard, left all alone. The mother running down the street, hysterical.
"Help! Please help me! A shadow came into my house! A shadow!
It's trying to devour us, and I can't see its face! Only its mouth.
Its mouth is gigantic!"

"They
told Jacqueline the house was surrounded by soldiers."

"What!?"

"Soldiers,"
Nadja repeated. "No one knows what they're doing there.
Plain-clothed cops, of course, but soldiers, too. And sanitary
personnel, wearing masks... The windows have been sealed and you
can't get within a mile of the place. And with the blackout, it's
worse. Last night, there was a blackout all around Oxford and the
electricity is still out.

They
said there was a short circuit at the plant that powers the city.
Sound familiar, Elisa?"

Darkness
descended. The Christmas tree burned out. The lights by the boy's
stocking burned out. Father Christmas was going to leave presents for
him there. The Craig family was all at home when darkness blew in
like a cyclone.

He
was still alive when they ripped his face off. His son saw the whole
thing.

"With
Rosalyn Reiter, the station lights went out... and when Cheryl Ross
was in the cellar, too. And there's something else, too, Elisa.
Rosalyn's bathroom light, and yours, and mine ... Remember? All three
of us had that dream... and we all had the lights burn out in our
bathrooms."

Coincidences.
Let me tell you another coincidence.

"We
can't draw any conclusions based on that, Nadja. Physics shows no
relation between dreams and electric energy."

"I
know! But fear is not logical. You always reason your way out of
everything, and your logic does make me feel better, but when
Jacqueline called to tell me about Colin,... I thought... it's not
over yet." Sniffles.

"Nadja..."

"It
was Colin this time... like it was Rosalyn, Cheryl, and Ric last
time. But it's happening again. And you know it."

"Nadja,
honey ... Did you forget? Ric Valente was the one who did it! And
he's dead now."

Silence.
And then Nadja's voice whimpered.

"You
really think it was Ric, Elisa? I mean, do you
really
think
Ric killed them?"

No.
I don't.
She
decided not to answer and ran her hands down her bare thighs. The
clock flashing on the TV screen told her there was only an hour until
he
came.
Her "game" was a ritual, a habit she couldn't break, like
biting her nails, and she couldn't put it off. All she had to do was
take off her robe and wait.
Hang
up.

"Jacqueline
and I talked about something else." The change in her old
friend's tone of voice alarmed her. "Tell me this. Honestly.
Tell me the truth. Don't you... get ready ...
for
him?"
She
froze, there on the carpet. "Elisa, please tell me, please. For
my sake, for the friendship we once had. Are you embarrassed? I am,
too. But you know what? I'm so scared, Elisa, that right now my fear
outweighs my shame." She was listening. She couldn't move,
couldn't even think, all she could do was listen. "Special
underwear ... you know, sexy lingerie. And it's always black. Maybe
you used to wear it already and maybe not, but now you wear
it
almost all the time,
right?
And sometimes you don't wear any at all. Isn't that true? Don't you
go out sometimes with no panties on, even though you never used to?
And at night, don't you dream..."

No.
What
Nadja was saying wasn't true. Her "games" were just
fantasies. They might be influenced by certain unpleasant things that
happened six years ago, sure, but they were still just fantasies. And
the fact that Nadja might play similar games, or that Craig was
murdered last night, had nothing to do with it. Nothing whatsoever.

"Do
you know... do you know what Jacqueline's life is like now?"
Nadja continued. "Did you know she left her family four years
ago, Elisa? Her husband and son ... even her job ... Do you want to
know what her life's been like since then? Or mine?" Nadja was
now openly sobbing. "Should I tell you what I do? Do you want to
know how I live? What I do when I'm alone?"

"We're
not even supposed to be talking, Nadja," Elisa interrupted. "We
have monthly sessions. You can tell them..."

"They're
lying to us, Elisa! They've been lying to us for years! You know
that!"

If
he gets here and you're not ready... If you're not waiting for him
the way you should be...

She
cast a glance at her screen saver, which showed the phases of an
eerily white moon.
White,
like his eyes.
A
chill ran down her spine, making her shiver. She thought of her
expensive hairdo, carefully applied makeup, sexy robe.
This
is absurd. It's just a game! I can do whatever I feel like.

"Elisa,
I'm scared!"

In
a flash, she made up her mind.

"Nadja,
you said you're in Madrid, right?"

"Yes
... but I'm leaving on Friday to spend Christmas with my parents in
St. Petersburg."

"Good.
Let me come pick you up and we can have dinner together. My treat.
What do you say?" She heard a giggle. Nadja still had that
crystal clear laugh she used to when they first met.

"OK."

"On
one condition. Promise me we won't talk about anything unpleasant."

"I
promise. Oh, I'm so excited to see you, Elisa!"

"Me,
too. Tell me where you are." She opened a computerized,
interactive street map. It was an apartment in Moncloa; she could be
there in half an hour.

When
they hung up, she turned off the TV, put her untouched
escalivada
in
the fridge, and went into her bedroom. As she took off her underwear
and put it back in the drawer, she hesitated for a moment. She almost
never changed plans when she was planning to "welcome" him.
(If
he gets here and you're not ready... If you're not waiting for him
the way you should be...)
But
Nadja's phone call and the terrible news about Colin had left her
full of questions and they needed answers.

She
chose a matching beige bra and panty set, a sweater, and a pair of
jeans.

She'd
go see Nadja.

They
had a lot to talk about.

23

THE
light
came on after flickering for a moment. It was a wide, overhead light
just above the bathroom mirror, so glaring that it accentuated every
crack in the orange tile. Nevertheless, Nadja Petrova turned on a
five-watt travel lamp with rechargeable battery, too, and placed it
on a stool by the shower. She never traveled without lamps like
these, and kept three flashlights in her suitcase as well.