 CHAPTER 10 (section 2) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee Simone watched, impressed, as Adrian carried the huge package that contained her new window up the flights of stairs to her apartment without showing any signs of exertion. “Are you sure you’re not a superhero in disguise?” she asked. “Nah. I’m not much for saving damsels in distress.” “From personal experience, I’d say you’re being too modest.” “Modest? Really. Hurry up with the door. I can’t hold this much longer.” She gave him a long look. It looked like he was just carrying a light bag of groceries instead of a hefty window. “If you say so,” she replied doubtfully slipping her key into her door. Back in the apartment, Adrian strolled to the kitchen to place the new window down. He frowned as he examined the old broken window. “Anyone could have gotten into here while you were away.” “Yeah. But I don’t have anything worth stealing except maybe the VCR and the television, but that’s still here, so I doubt anyone got in here the last couple of days.” “So you need help installing the window?” he asked. “Not really. I called up some local maintenence workers. Windows are their speciality.” She leaned against a counter, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ll make sure that they’ll reinforce it or whatever so that chances of breaking in would be reduced.” Adrian shrugged. “If you want to.” “Are you suggesting that you are a window expert?” she said amused. “Somehow, I find it hard to picture.” “Well,” he said changing gears. “I called Thomson earlier. He said he would get on to bidding and that our job is done. According to him anyway. He’s sending the payment directly to our business account.” She sighed. “It’s done then. But I can’t help feeling as if we’re missing something important.” “What do you mean?” “Johnson’s murder for one thing. I keep thinking of those letters that were carved onto his body. Isn’t that the initials for the Italian translation of The Dark Vipers?” “Yeah.” He hesitated for a moment. “You mean ‘Il Viper Scuro’.” “Exactly. It’s the work of the Dark Vipers. They’re still alive and well despite what Thomson thinks.” “So history hasn’t totally obliterated them. I see. But why would the Dark Vipers want Johnson dead? He doesn’t have the Rose.” “But perhaps he knew too much. And the strange things that have been happening are too patterned to be coincidental. There’s a large chance that many of the people we’ve met are related to all of this. But why all of this just for a block of marble that has a rose carved on it?” “Don’t be so naive, Simone. People have killed for less. There’s always trouble brewing around anything of value like jewels or artifacts or important documents.” “If so, they must be more than a little cracked if they expect some relic to bring them fortune or fame.” “Isn’t that a given since it’s some sort of cult?” Adrian said grinning. “They always attract wackos.” “It’s not just that,” she trailed off. She looked back at the window. “I guess I’ll be waiting for the repairmen and checking on stuff here, to see if anything is missing despite the fact that my most expensive equipment is still here.” “Mind if I stick around?” “It’s going to be boring,” she replied. “Besides, I haven’t picked up those pictures of Professor Olivia Fitzgerald’s office yet. You could do it.” He gave a half-hearted groan. “Really. You’re treating me like a slave today, making me haul that window for you up several flights of stairs, and now sending me to fetch pictures.” “Well, you don’t look exhausted to me.” He laughed. “Is that your goal? To work me to exhaustion?” Her lips tilted upward. “You don’t have to do whatever I say.” She reached out to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen over his face behind his ear. When she realized what she was doing, she suddenly jerked her hand away, embarrassed that she had momentarily stepped out of the imaginary boundary of business partners to something else. He caught her hand before she could tuck it into a pocket and brought it back up to his face so that it touched his jaw. He gazed at her surprised face for a moment. “Don’t be afraid.” He brushed his lips briefly against her lower palm. Simone forcibly pulled her hand away from his grasp and scowled. “Is that what you think? I’m not afraid of you.” “I’m not saying that you’re afraid of me. You’re afraid of what we could be.” “That’s ridiculous,” she replied. But her face appeared flushed and her hands were slightly trembling. “What on earth do you mean?” “You know what I mean.” He turned to go out the door. “I’ll get the pictures. I’ll be back soon.” Simone sank back on her couch, both deflated and numb. She supposed she was in a sort of shock after hearing Adrian voice what she had thought had been kept locked tightly away. She rubbed her hands, wishing she would stop shivering, wishing that the window would be changed soon, wishing that she could move back into her own apartment and huddle under blankets, a lot like the cowardly ostrich who stuck his head in the sand when trouble was coming. The doorbell rang, bringing her out of her thoughts. Two scruffy looking men, their faces obscured by their cap that said “Wells Brothers Repairs”, scuttled in. Each carried a battered wooden tool box as well as a couple other tools hooked onto their belts. They were like two gray overalled moles. “Ms. Sung?” one of them asked, taking out a crumbled sheet of paper. “You wanted a window repaired?” “Yes.” She pointed to the kitchen. “I just got a new window so all it needs is to be reinstalled. Thanks for coming by.” “No problem, miss,” the other rasped. “This will take no time.” Both of them shuffled to the kitchen. One of them, she noticed, limped a little causing an odd thumping gait that she brushed off. A lot of people limped. Soon she heard much pounding and banging. She wasn’t sure that replacing a window caused that much noise, but she went to her bedroom anyway to check her closet. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found that her documents, as well as some equipment that she had stashed away was still intact. Abruptly, the noises from the kitchen stopped. She strained her ears, but could hear nothing. She grasped for a small hand-held pistol and stuffed it in her waist band before carefully opening her bedroom door. No one was around. She crept out, straining her ears again. Nothing. Something squeaked. Simone turned her heard rapidly, only to feel something coming around her throat. She screamed and it tightened, threatening to cut off her air. She reached up to pull it off and kicked behind her. Someone groaned. Using new found leverage at the losening arm at her neck, she twisted, attempting to slash at her attacker’s head with an arm. She and her attacker crashed into a nearby wall and she saw something fall out of the man’s pocket. Lashing out again, she finally got herself free and saw that it was one of the repairmen who had attacked her. She kicked out, intending to hit his head, but he moved at the last moment and she only slashed at thin air. The man grabbed her leg and pulled her to the floor. “Hurry!” he cried. Simone tried to sit up, but the other repairman who she had temporarily forgotten, slammed something hard against her head. Sharp pain shot up her temples and she winced. A piece of cloth was jammed into her face and she could smell something cloying and over-sweet. The pain in her head throbbed a few more times. She tried moving her arms, but it was like moving in molasses. Her vision dimmed as she fell limply to the floor. |