Chapter 25.1
He found her staring at the ancient 'Egyptian' obelisk in the center of the Place de la Concorde, and he came up from behind and gently placed his hands on her shoulders -- yet he said not a word, if only because he knew he had to wait for her this time.
"I suppose you had a reason?" she said a few minutes later.
He pulled her a bit closer and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm not sure anything has happened that they haven't orchestrated to the Nth degree -- except you. You're the random variable, Tracy, the fly in their ointment, the 'one big thing' thing they didn't see coming..."
She turned and faced him, her eyes like the stars -- infinite -- and full of a million unanswered questions.
"The thing is," he continued, "I didn't expect you, either. In fact, I think I welcomed death -- until you found me. Death was the only thing that made any sense because death is the only way out of the trap they've set for me."
"And now?"
"You're the only thing that makes sense now."
"Because I'm the fly in their ointment?"
He shook his head. "No. Because without you there is no love, and without love everything else is meaningless. So..."
"But...you're going to have children, Henry..."
He laughed a little as other images came and went, even as he shook his head. "They were born fifteen years ago, Tracy. They were raised by others I'll never know."
She scoffed at that one. "What are you talking about? I thought you said you met those girls six months ago?"
"I did, yes. That's true enough."
"Then you've lost me, Hank."
He sighed and looked into that place where memory always tried to hide. "They are in a place where time is...different."
"What does that even mean? You mean like in a parallel universe...or some kind of Star Trek bullshit multiverse?"
"I couldn't say, Tracy," he said, grinning sheepishly. "Not with any certainty. Yet they are alive, the children and their mothers, living in a sort of village. Maybe a village of the damned, yet...they are alive."
"You said they, the children, were raised by others. Do you know who raised them?"
He nodded. "Crito. He was their father."
"Who?"
"Crito. He held Socrates as he passed from this life to the next."
"Excuse me?"
"The Buddha is there, Jesus too."
"You've met them, I take it? Jesus, I mean?" she asked, shaking her head a little derisively.
He nodded, but he looked away from the memory, know all too well what this sounded like.
"You do know how absolutely stark raving mad you sound, right?" she said gently.
He shrugged.
"And all this is a part of some plan?" she added.
"We should get a room. It'll be getting cold out soon."
She smiled. "I love it when you change subjects so -- crudely. It's truly exhilarating, really."
"Would you like to go see it for yourself?"
"What?"
"Would you? Like to go there, to the village?"
She shook her head but he could see the indecision in her eyes. "No, I think all-in-all I'd rather like to stay on this side of crazy-town for a little bit longer."
"I hope you have a say in the matter, Tracy. I really do."
"Okay," she said, changing the subject this time. "Hotel? You know anything close?"
He pointed to the colonnaded place behind them and grinned. "The Crillon. I hear it's decent enough."
"Isn't that supposed to be like the best place in the world?"
He nodded. "That's the rumor."
"Who's paying?"
"Me, I reckon," he grinned.
"Then Hell yes, I'm in."
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The train pulled into the station in Rouen on time, and Milos, the taxi driver from their first snowy night, met them trackside and helped Henry back to the old Mercedes.
"How are you doing today?" Henry asked their new friend. "The children are well?"
"Well enough. Their mother is due to arrive late tonight, so all will be good soon enough."
"Excellent."
"You are looking better, Henry. Like a vast care has been lifted from your heart."
"It feels that way, Milos, and thank you for saying so."
"To the boat now? Or do you need to make any stops on the way?"
"Did you take the boys out grocery shopping yesterday?"
"Yes, and that crazy Russian brought his girlfriend along. She's mad as a hatter, like something right out of the looking glass. You have been warned, Henry."
"Oh?" Tracy said, interested now. "How so?"
"I think all pilots are crazy," Milos said, grinning, "but you will see for yourself. This one is beyond nuts, yet I think the whipped cream in her hair was the real giveaway..."
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Henry was at the chart-plotter studying the weather overlay with Anton and Sophie; they were in the cockpit sitting on either side of him staring intently at the display while he flipped through various forecast models. "It looks like the storm has stalled out up north," Henry sighed. "That figures."
"The Baron can't fly into such heavy icing conditions," Sophie said. "I am sorry, but it is too dangerous, and as it is not my airplane I can not take a chance like this."
"I understand," Henry said wistfully. "And anyway, I wouldn't ask you to."
"Need Antonov," Anton said. "Could do in a -32. Easy."
"If the storm has moved out by next weekend I think can arrange to get the Baron again," Sophie added.
"I won't be able to go with you next weekend," Henry said, scowling a bit.
"I go with Sophie. Boy know me. Dina know me. She let him come with me."
"I'm not so sure, Anton, and I don't want you to make the trip for nothing."
"Can I talk Dina?" Anton added. "Might change mind."
Henry smiled, but in his heart he already knew the answer to that question. Dina wasn't going to let go of the boy...not now...not after losing her daughter. And he couldn't blame her, not really, yet he needed time with Rolf -- in case things turned pear-shaped before he could write things down. "No. This is a problem that I will have to solve..."
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