The Devil's Fate (13 page)

He set out at a brisk pace, walking as fast as he could. The trees failed to shield him as he had hoped and gusts of wind stabbed through his clothes to his skin as if they were loaded with sharp needles. In the distance, he noticed someone doggedly jogging. What induced men and women to brave the cold and exposure in order to keep fit was beyond him. He had always been of the opinion that regular, healthy exercise, even at home, kept the onset of old age at bay. But the mind needed keeping in trim more than anything else. The secret of youth, he thought, was connected to the elasticity of the mind. If the mind of a twenty-year-old receives inadequate stimulation, his body will look fifty years old. And vice versa.

The sound of a woman singing distracted him from the thoughts that helped him to ignore the cold. It was a sad song about the love of a man for a woman he had only ever met in his dreams. The atmosphere of the place became even gloomier than before.

Suddenly the melody ceased, and the tone of the voice was serious as it called out to him.

“Hey there, my good man!”

Norman spun round. To his right, an odd woman with a small dog was sitting on the ground, her hand raised as if asking for permission to speak.

“Excuse me. You there with the briefcase!”

Norman stopped in his tracks and stared at her.

“Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, you. Come here a minute, will you? I want to show you something.”

“Me?”

“Yes, yes. Please, come here.”

She studied him as he hesitated.

“Come on. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re the one who wrote that book, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, the book... hang on.”

She rummaged in the bag next to the dog and pulled out a red book.

“Here we are! Look! You’re the one who says he knows how to live. I’ve read it as well, you know. It’s a smashing book.”

The amazement on Norman’s face spoke volumes.

“But you’re not as good-looking as they say.”

“Er... how do you know I wrote it? Have you spoken to Julia?”

The woman smiled as if she had been expecting the question. Then she took a candy from her pocket and offered it to him.

“Oh, no thanks.”

“Never take candies from a stranger, right? That’s what they say. That’s what my mother told me too, you know. And not to speak to strangers either. But if you don’t speak to strangers, how can you make new friends? Don’t you agree?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t talk to strangers much, do you? You’d have been the perfect son for my mother. What advice does yours give you?”

“My mother died a long time ago.”

“Oh. And you don’t hear from her any more?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Look, I have to go. Sorry, but I’ve got things to do.”

He was about to walk away, but he wasn’t given the time.

“What she did was very generous, don’t you think?”

Norman looked her straight in the eyes. Their dark depths clouded his mind. He felt as if he were losing his bearings in a place he had always been looking for and never found.

“Who are you? How do you know...?”

“Do you want this candy then? It’s good, raspberry flavor. Your favorite.”

Norman moved closer. All of a sudden, he was no longer conscious of the cold. He took the candy and sat opposite her. He saw in her gaze that the world could be seen from a different viewpoint, making it better than it really was. He sucked the candy and a fabulous blend of flavors made his head spin, projecting him into an abstract dimension that savored of truth. He could taste a faraway place he hadn’t seen for ages, one where he had been happy. He closed his eyes, transported on a journey that was too long to be remembered.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it? It’s made from a special fruit that captures pleasures as well as the senses.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Me? Nothing. What about you?”

“You mean what do I want from myself?”

“Exactly. Hasn’t anyone ever asked you that? Don’t tell me a man like you has never asked himself that question.”

“Actually... it’s the question of my life.”

“And what have you come up with?”

“Only more questions. What does that mean?”

“It means that before you reach your final goal, you’ll have to experience other places and situations, and stop and think about how to tackle them, without turning tail.”

“It’s funny, you know. My mother always said the same thing: ‘Don’t be in a rush. Stop and think for a minute. Your choices will guide you. Forget everyone else and listen only to what your heart tells you’.”

“Your mother was a great woman. Did you listen to her advice?”

“I don’t have a heart of my own, so I had to adapt to what my mind told me.”

“Having a heart goes beyond simply feeling it beating.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s my mother’s heart inside my body. She took her life to give it to me so that I might live. My heart wasn’t strong enough to cope with growing. And my body wouldn’t accept any old heart...”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

“How would you know? I’ve spent days on end wondering what I could do to make my life worthy of such an act, but I’m a coward like my father!”

“Oh, come on, don’t be silly! You’re still alive, aren’t you? Whatever you’ve done can be rectified. Perhaps the way to straighten things out and do something for others lies in that briefcase.”

“The solution isn’t in this case, but in a man who stole something from me.”

“There was a time when revenge was considered a god. Have you ever thought of taking revenge?”

The woman jumped to her feet. She looked down at him and leaned over to kiss his forehead. It reminded him of his mother’s kisses when he was a boy and his heart swelled with sadness as it always did when he thought of her. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Your mother is watching over you and has great faith in you. Not every ending has been written yet.”

Without another word, she turned away and faded into the mist with her dog. Loneliness settled on Norman’s soul again. He dried his tears and stood up, and noticed that the cold was stinging anew. He bent to pick up the case and saw the book the woman had been holding, the same book he had been searching for all morning. He opened it. The first page had faded. In all likelihood, it wasn’t one of the latest reprints. He sat down on the bench to his left and gave himself up to the memories someone had taken from him. Julia popped into his mind. He realized that she was the only person he truly needed, and remembered how he had set her aside lately under the heading “trivialities” with so many other things. He was aware that the word trivial applied to his immaturity, as shown today in all its glory. He flicked through the book to the poem dated 22
^nd
January 2004 in the top right-hand corner.

Wake me ... and after telling me of love, let the tale fade away, and worry then that you won’t remember, so that only I can describe to the future the meaning of ‘I was with you’...

Speak to me... and after falling in love with me, let life die and stop fate from bringing pain so that it’s forced to look into my eyes to find solace again...

Love me... and after you’ve woken, soothe the pain that has to go to hell in order to find comfort by telling the undead that it knew you...

A shiver ran through his body as his mind returned to the light of day from the farthest corner of his memories. He recalled the day he had written those words. It was a Sunday morning. He had got up and made breakfast for her, something he enjoyed doing, especially on such cold and rainy days. The smell of coffee, warming and blending with the room, the croissants wafting their fragrance as if they were grateful for being baked. And her... It was wonderful when he woke her up, and when he kissed her and reminded her of how important she was to him. They never managed to eat the food while it was hot because their desire to be together was too great to wait. So they made love as if it were the first time. He turned another page and was plunged into another memory.

I look at you, as if fate refused to let me see anything else, as if time had no intention of ending and stood still for a moment to find a purpose...

I listen to you, as thoughts reflect on what is truly important, neglecting those details that love has already shaped, and grasping the idea that, perhaps, it’s worth living love, even if there’s no rhyme or reason...

I love you, because I can’t help myself, simply because I need to, because it’s the best way to be human...

Norman burst into tears, sobbing harder than he had for a long time. It had taken being alienated from his life and the most important person in it to make him realize what he had lost. He missed her as morning misses dawn, as life misses light. He clutched the book so tightly he could hear the pages pressing together. Those same pages describing the emotions that had connected him to his reason for living and that now, as only fate knows how, rebounded on him and stabbed him with the pain of knowing that he had thrown that reason to the wind.

Chapter 24

Paul woke up. His head throbbed and anxiety blurred his memory. The room his eyes lit on was not part of his house. He got up and his mind rewound the reel with the last shot it had recorded. The man who had coshed him had gashed his forehead and someone had tried to medicate the wound. It certainly couldn’t have been done by Celine.

“Celine!”

She was lying on the bed next to his in a deep sleep. He sank down beside her, hoping to bring the comfort that some damned sadist had tried to take away from them by coming into their house uninvited.

“Celine! Hey, Celine! Wake up!”

The woman stirred and struggled to wake up. She heard her husband’s voice from far away, coaxing her from the tunnel the stranger had dragged her into.

“Paul?”

“Yes, my love! Wake up! It’s me!”

“Oh, Paul. My head hurts so bad.”

“We’ve been kidnapped, Celine! By the same men who wanted to speak to our son before they hit us.”

“Oh my God! My baby! Where’s my baby?”

She became hysterical and burst into sobs in an effort to keep panic at bay.

Paul tried to calm her down. They had lived through bad times, but had hoped they were over. Obviously, fate had them in its sights. His wife’s wails were almost ear-splitting. A noise at the door told them that someone had heard the cries. Two turns of a key reminded them that freedom is sometimes far more than a simple sensation.

A woman in hospital whites entered, followed by two men in military uniform.

“Good morning. You were brought here against your will and I apologize. You won’t be detained any longer than necessary.”

Paul stood up, fighting for the calm his wife had lost.

“Where’s my son?”

“There’s no need to worry, he’s fine. He’s in the room next door and now he’s quite happy. We’ve given him a couple of math books and he’s practically devouring them.”

“What do you want him to do, damn you! What do you want from us?”

“Your son can solve a problem we’re very interested in.”

“Don’t show it to him, I beg you! Don’t let him see it!”

“We’re not here to make a deal, sir. We’ll use force if necessary, but it will be better for everyone if you collaborate.”

“Collaborate? He’s already been in a coma once for solving that blasted equation!”

“Solve? Are you saying that your son has already solved the problem of prime numbers?”

“You won’t force him to do it again! I refuse to let you!”

“With all due respect, you’re in no position to refuse anything at present. Tell me where the solution is. When I showed him part of the problem, all he did was stare into space.”

“Damn you! You don’t know what you’re doing. He almost died because of those numbers. Don’t let him see them, please!”

He slumped onto the floor and fury sucked the last drops of energy from his body. He was on the point of fainting when he heard his wife’s voice, miraculously calm now, urging him out of the pit of unconsciousness, as he had roused her earlier.

“Paul, I’m here. Calm down, honey. It’s all right.”

“Celine! It’s all my fault. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t ... oh God, help me! I haven’t got the strength to cope with something like this.”

“It’s OK, Paul. We’ve prepared ourselves for it. We’ve always fought to defend our values and our family. Now we have the chance to win and start over.”

“What do you mean? I don’t want to start over. I only want to go home.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, my love.”

Celine turned to the woman and gave a nod of surrender.

“Follow us, please.”

“Where are they taking us, Celine?” asked Paul, curious in spite of himself.

“We’re going home, honey.”

They were escorted from the room by the soldiers and followed the woman down a corridor lit by wall lamps that gave the impression of a hospital. They halted before a green iron door that stood out from the white of the walls and ceiling. The woman punched in a digital code and a second later, the electronic lock clicked open. Only the three of them stepped inside; the soldiers’ job ended there.

The room exuded an air of dread that made it clear to guests that power was the only thing that held weight there. At the far end, a man sitting in a leather armchair as black as his eyes stared at the newcomers. His voice was eager as he greeted them.

“Hello, Celine. Please forgive my men’s rough behavior, but there was no other way of bringing you here. I hope your husband understands what you’ve done.”

“Hello, Tommy. My husband only needs to rest now. The time has come to take back what fate stole from us.”

Paul gazed at her as the echo of her words churned around in his mind in an effort to make him think he had misunderstood.

“Celine. Who is this man? How come you know him?”

The woman looked at him with the expression of someone who has finally found the peace she has been searching for all her life. She kissed his cheek, as she always did before going to bed.