Forever (84 page)

Zaza dismissed the stewards. In the
background, the song now intoned, lBasta, Vincesti. . . Ah non
Lasciarmi, no:

Zaza clasped her hands to her breasts. 'Ach!
Your voice is so divine! Look, Lili, look!' She sniffed and wiped
her eyes, it's brought tears to my eyes!'

Lili smiled, and reached across the table,
covering Zaza's hand with her own. it is sweet of you to say so,
Zaza, but now my voice is no longer divine. No.' She shook her
head, it has become rusty . . . corroded at the edges.'

She frowned slightly and turned to Dr
Vassiltchikov.

it is bizarre,' Lili murmured, 'that the
voice should change while the body hardly does. Why should that
be?'

Dr Vassiltchikov's eyes were wide with
enquiry. 'Have you been practising?'

'Of course. Every day I go into the
sound-proofed room and sing. It brings me joy.'

Dr Vassiltchikov frowned. 'Then perhaps
-'

But Zaza tapped on her water glass with a
spoon, bringing silence to the table. 'No more talk of these
matters. It is time for my announcement.'

'Yes!' Eagerly Lili sat forward, her eyes
bright with anticipation. 'Do tell us!'

'Ah, but first. Ernesto, hand me that
candle.' Zaza gestured at the candlestick nearest to him.

He half stood as he wrenched the lit taper
out of the ormolu holder and leaned across the table and handed it
to her. Zaza smiled her thanks, lit the single candle in the centre
of the torte,

then handed the candle back to Ernesto.

'There. You can put it back now.'

Ernesto twisted it into the candlestick and
sat back down, but he leaned forward expectantly. All eyes were on
Zaza.

The moment stretched, the suspense grew.
From the hidden speakers Lili's flawless voice rose in an
expressive andante, colouring the silence with vivid shades of
sound. The room seemed caught in a time warp. The flickering
candlelight shimmered richly on the gilt boiserie, turned the
carvings to voluptuous curves of liquid gold.

'Oh, do stop looking so confused!' Zaza said
finally. 'Today is my birthday. There. Now you know. And don't look
at me as if I've lost my mind,' she said crisply in reply to Lili's
strange expression. 'I'm not referring to the day I was born, but
to today, the day I am reborn!'

Rebornl Three sets of eyes stared at
her.

Zaza's face brightened in amusement.
'Really, Lieblings\ Do none of you understand?'

Her eyes skipped from Lili to Ernesto, and
finally rested on Dr Vassiltchikov.

'I see that I shall have to explain.' She
smiled. 'Lieblings, I have decided to join you! Now do you
understand?'

'You'll join us . . .?'Lili was
bewildered.

'Yes. Old and decrepit I may be, but I have
decided that I do not wish to wither further and die.'

'I cannot believe this!' Lili stared at her.
'I always thought you were so -'

Zaza held up a hand. 'Please. I was never as
close to my earthly demise as I |am now. That factor has certainly
helped me see things in an entirely new light.'

'Then you really have decided!' Lili
breathed, clapping her hands together in excitement and pressing
her steepled fingers against her quivering lips. Her eyes swam
moistly. 'You really are serious about joining our longevity
programme!'

'Yes.' Zaza nodded firmly, then looked
around questioningly. 'That is, of course, if you are still willing
to have me.'

'Willing?' Lili's tears burst from a dam of
sheer happiness. 'You don't know how glad you've made me! Du hast
keine AhnungP

Dr Vassiltchikov's eyes were little more
than slits, and when she spoke, a harshness crept into her voice.
'You know, of course, that we cannot turn back the clock? That we
can only slow, possibly stop, the ageing process, but that there is
no going back?'

'Of course I know that!' Zaza said testily.
'I don't expect to turn nineteen and get out of this wheelchair and
start ballroom dancing!'

'And you will have to change many of your
habits,' Dr Vassiltchikov continued sternly. 'That means no
alcohol. A reduced diet.' She made a point of frowning at the
torte.

'This is my last cake, so you might as well
let me enjoy it,' said Zaza. 'Now then. I am going to make my
wish.'

She sat perfectly still, shut her eyes, and
smiled serenely. Then her eyes blinked open, she bent forward, and
blew out the candle.

She said, 'Now that you know what we are
celebrating, you must all join me and have a bite of my
Mandeltorte: She picked up the sterling-silver cake server, cut
four minuscule triangles, and waited for Lili and Ernesto and Dr
Vassiltchikov to pass her their plates. She gave each of them a
slice and then herself one.

Resting her elbow on the table and her chin
on her hand, Lili kept staring at Zaza through eyes blurred with
tears. 'Oh, I'm so happy!' she kept repeating. 'So happy!'

'And so am I, Liebling, so am I. Now, shall
we see if my Mandeltorte is still up to par?'

'I haven't eaten cake in years,' Lili
whispered, carefully dabbing her eyes dry with a corner of her
napkin.

'Next year, I shall celebrate with a candle
in a tiny salad,' Zaza said. 'That is -' She slid Dr Vassiltchikov
an amused glance,' - if I'm permitted even that. Now eat! Schmeck
es! Wir miissen es KostenV She picked up her fork, cut a tiny bite,
and speared it on the long narrow tines. 'Well.' She looked around
the table. 'One would think this is a funeral instead of a
celebration! If you don't want me to -'

'Of course we do!' Lili said quickly, and
picked up her cake fork.

Zaza raised her fork in a toast. 'To
eternity,' she proposed.

'To eternity!' the three of them chorused,
and popped cake into their mouths.

Zaza watched them chew. 'How is it?'

'Sehr gut: Dr Vassiltchikov nodded
approvingly.

'PrimaV Lili pronounced, rolling her eyes in
ecstasy. 'Heaven.' She speared another small piece and chewed it
slowly, savouring the sweetness. She gestured at Zaza's plate with
her fork. 'You haven't tried yours yet!' she scolded.

Abruptly Dr Vassiltchikov jerked straight
upright. 'Aber der NachgeschmackV she croaked. 'The after-taste!'
Her fork slipped from between her fingers and clattered loudly on
her plate. She

raised her hand to her neck. 'My throat!'
she whispered in horror. 'It. . . it is burning! And closing!' She
tried to push herself to her feet, but suddenly there was no
strength in her arms or her spine. Weakly she slumped back into her
chair, perspiration beading her forehead.

Instant realisation dawned.

Uttering a strangled cry, Lili dropped her
fork and swept her plate aside, sending it flying from the table to
shatter on the parquet. Putting a hand around her neck, she stared
across the table at Zaza. 'Die MandelnV she whispered in horror.
'Oh du liebe Gottl The almonds!' Her voice rose in a tremolo. 'The
almonds,'' she wailed, 'the bitter almonds!'

'Cyanide!' Dr Vassiltchikov rasped, her face
tightening. 'She's poisoned us!' She was seized with a sudden spasm
and convulsed in her chair. 'And I. . . gave it to her . . . years
ago ... as I gave it to . . . all of you ... in case ... in case .
. . in -' She couldn't continue. Her ancient face was turning blue
and she fell abruptly sideways, overturned her chair, and hit the
floor with a thud. Her body convulsed and twitched and was
still.

'Zaza!' Lili whispered hoarsely.

Suddenly Ernesto began to laugh.

Lili slowly turned her head in his
direction. 'What... is ... so . . . funny . . .?' She was finding
it difficult to speak. The burning sensation she felt in her throat
was unbearable.

'We're dying,' he gasped, struggling for
oxygen even as he laughed. 'Don't you . . . see . . . ? The only
people ever ... to taste of ... of youth eternal . . . and . . .
we're dying!' His laughter turned into gargling hacks and he
reached out to touch Lili, but everything blurred and went black.
Slumping limply forward, he pitched head first onto the table.
Plates jumped, glasses fell over, and candles sputtered and went
out, trailing black wisps of waxy-smelling smoke.

Lili was struggling to breathe. 'WarumT she
whimpered, the hand around her throat tightening. Her eyes searched
Zaza's. ' Warum? For God's sake, whyT

'Why?' Zaza said gently, her face full of
tender love and infinite sadness. The charade of the past hour had
drained her completely, and she felt so weary ... so terribly,
terribly tired. 'Because of the children,' she said softly.
'Because of the thousands you have sacrificed in the past, and the
many thousands who would have been sacrificed in the future.
Because of them, Lili, that's why.' Tears spilled from her eyes,
running down her soft, wrinkled cheeks.

Lili could hardly see through the mist that
was enveloping her.

'I . . . only . . . wanted ... to live . . .
forever!' she cried, and then the mist thickened all around
her.

Zaza put her face in her hands. In the
background, accompanied by the beguiling clarinets and oboes, the
French horns and cellos and shimmering violins, swirled that voice
which was so pure in timbre, so silvery in radiance, that it was no
wonder all the angels in heaven were weeping.

But it was only after the recording
automatically stopped that Zaza realised it was not the angels she
heard weeping. It was herself.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ilha da Borboleta • Inflight

Stephanie crashed through the giant rubbery
leaves, dense branches and choking vines like a stampeding
elephant. Melting into the jungle was a luxury she could no longer
afford. Speed was of the essence. She had to make it to the grotto.
Had to!

She ran as fast as she could, arms extended,
thrashing aside the leaves and branches. Her heaving chest burned
with the effort of running, her breaths rasped harshly. Keeping her
eyes peeled for the paint-daubed stones, she missed seeing the
clutch of gnarled roots until it was too late and -

For Christ's sake, no -

-went flying.

The belly-landing knocked the air out of her
lungs, made her aware of the stitch in her side. Sheathed in a film
of sweat, now that she'd stopped running, she felt a chill.

Was that a sound? She swung her head around,
looked fearfully over her shoulder, back the way she had come. She
strained to listen, but all she could hear was the hammering of her
heart.

She pushed herself to her feet. Must -

-must keep moving.

'Get on with it, Steph!' she urged herself,
hearing the whine of fear in her voice. 'Get your ass in gear!'

She took several deep lungfuls of air, and
ran on. She couldn't see or hear him, but an instinct born of
survival told her that he was out there. Behind her somewhere.

The grotto was her only hope.

Her last hope. Salvation.

Colonel Valerio was like liquid, gliding
smoothly along on a silent cushion of air, as though a barely
noticeable human-shaped cutout of the jungle itself was on the
move, constantly arranging and rearranging itself, now completely
lost to the eye, now glimpsed almost briefly, but already gone.

Limply hanging snapped branches and torn
ragged leaves pointed out the way. At one point, he stopped for a
moment and stood looking down, tapping a half-hidden paint-daubed
stone with the toe of his boot. His camouflaged face hid his smile.
He moved on a couple of yards and stopped again. There was another
one, like an overgrown highway marker. Hell, she was making it real
easy, not even bothering to get off the marked trail.

Yeah, but where did it lead? he wondered.
This part of the island, which had been left to its own devices and
let grow wild, was new to him. Since it wasn't part of the
patrolled perimeter and far enough from both the
quinta
and
the beaches not to interfere with security, he'd never explored it.
Now he wished he had.

As he continued on, he instinctively slowed
his speed and proceeded with extra deliberation. He thought: A
little caution never hurt.

Not that it mattered much in the long run.
As far as he was concerned, she was already history.

The Sabreliner dropped out of the low,
sullen sea of cloud which blanketed the sky above Vitoria. Even
before the jet came to a complete standstill, Eduardo had the door
open. He leaped out and dashed over to the helicopter, and the
moment he'd climbed in, it lifted off and rose into the sky,
climbing until it hugged the undersides of the low dense
clouds.

Thirty minutes, Eduardo thought. All I need
is thirty minutes . . .

Suddenly a flash of lightning lit the
humidity-laden clouds, and before the thunder rumbled, the downpour
began.

The pilot turned to Eduardo. 'Weather
doesn't look so good,' he shouted above the din of the rotors.

Eduardo's voice was grim. 'Just keep
flying.'

The downpour began just as Stephanie slewed
around a switch

back; flayed by the rainy torrent and the
rising wind, she was already drenched to the skin when she reached
the halfway point. There it was on the right, the first gruesome
landmark: the ruins of the stone wall with its giant stone face
drooling water out of the sides of its mouth. Now, running for her
life, its hideous arrogance only served to remind her of her
pursuer.

On she ran, grasping at the air in front of
her to clear branches out of her way. Then abruptly the foliage
ended. She slid to a stop and shielded her eyes with a raised
forearm, squinting against the rain in an effort to see into the
distance. Her breathing sounded ragged and uneven, and her lungs
ached. But this was no time for rest. She had to keep going. For in
front of her loomed the most dangerous stretch of all - the
straight path through the two towering walls of cliff from which
protruded those contorted faces of carved stone. The Walls of
Sighs, Eduardo had called them.