Paste
TOWER OF SILENCE
Chapter II:
Allegro ma non troppo
(Ville d'Autrémont, Combourg, the next morning)
Gradually, Spencer Reid turned from the dark hole. The environmental smell was pungent, perhaps stale, and he found himself with his face buried in the pillow, the bed intact, his body shivering ,but still sweating ...
He sat on the bed, and tried to rearrange the shreds of his looked by the window.
There was sun.
An ancient clock indicated that had just struck nine AM..
Five discreet taps on the door made him stand, as if he were moved by an invisible spring.
-Monsieur le jeune docteur? S'il vous plait?
It was the voice Mrs. Dutertre's voice.
-Allez, Madame, s'il vous plait! En avant!-he said, trying to sound credible in French.
The old woman came in with the breakfast tray. It contained his breakfast,exquisitely arranged in a service made with porcelain of Saxony.
Latte, in the French manner, croissants ( that he liked so much), toasted country bread, whipped butter, orange marmalade ... He looked at the food with relish.
He was hungry.
He smiled, and thanked the lady, who winked.
-A le etter to you, Monsieur le jeune docteur.
-Merci –he replied, gently taking the silk paper, that was smelling of gardenia.
.
It was a Gideon's note.,written in French.:
"Professor JM Gideon d'Autrémont invites Dr. Spencer William James Reid to participate in an excursion
to Combourg Castle Tower (Tour du Chat,) at eleven in the morning of the date, September 29, 2012 .. punctuality is appreciated. "
He smiled at the idea, which seemed funny, colourful, and very typical of Gideon, moreover: to behave as in the nineteenth century.
Meanwhile, he had thought to hear a muted chords, but vigorous, coming from downstairs.
It was, without doubt, the piano, the same grand piano whose shadow he had seen on arrival.
But ... who was the performer?
He finished his coffee as fast as he could, changed clothes (jacket, breeches, boots and a hat), and downed to the hall.
He leaned silently to Gideon 's private parlour., which had a window overlooking the winter garden.
The pianist was none other than Gideon himself.
He recognised the notes of the Liszt's study in B flat minor, La Chasse Neige (Snow Storm,.) ,, masterfully played by whom had been so long his boss and mentor in a completely different universe.
It seemed incredible.
He was a professional profiler, a genius, an absolute monster with an eidetic memory, but he had never really gotten to know Jason Gideon ..
(TO BE CONTINUED)