Chapter 51 Swept Away

Erik laid a hand on the trunk of the hemlock tree, steadying himself upon the incline as he glanced up at the dark, moonless sky. With a grim frown of determination he shifted his attention back to the distant buildings and waited for his opportunity. He was cold and exhausted, having stolen only a few hours of sleep in the arms of his beloved, yet he would not have traded them for the world. Seeing her sitting upon his bed waiting for him in his old quarters had affected him deeply, giving him hope for the future. Although they had spent precious little time together he nevertheless recognized the claim she'd already made upon his heart. Whenever they made love they became closer, not only in body but in spirit as well. He could now discern her thoughts and feelings just by looking at her. And she seemed to understand him as no one else had. Previously it was something he had only read about in books borrowed from the library after closing hours, and more recently found in the scriptures he'd come to cherish and depend upon. He did not know how the joys of the flesh could also serve to strengthen his spirit, broaden his mind and soothe his emotions, but as he stared at the warm glow of light coming from Cremieux's home, he knew that he craved more. He wanted the luxury of spending more time alone with his wife in the home he had designed for her, just as Cremieux was now enjoying. But not for long.

The lights in the carriage house finally went out, yet he waited another quarter hour. Then, testing his footing, he crept along the rise and stepped cautiously upon the lawn, pausing to scan his surroundings. Thankfully the family owned no dogs to alert them to his presence, just as Saul had reported. The elderly couple who served as servants should be already sound asleep in the carriage house, he judged. Moving silently along the side of the main house toward the back door, he thought it a modest estate for such a powerful politician, yet perhaps in keeping with Cremieux's slow climb to power from a very humble beginning.

Praying that his arrival would cause no undue distress or harm, he toyed with the lock and quietly let himself in. As he moved toward the only lit room at the front of the house, he heard a clock chime the hour of nine, quickly ducking beneath the staircase as the door directly above him shut. Holding his breath he paused, heard nothing more and them moved on, passing along the darkened corridor until he paused just outside the parlor. For some time he waited, listening to the sound of pages turning and then a soft intake of breath as Cremieux sensed his presence. At that moment Erik stepped halfway out from the edge of the wall and waited until the man turned his head and spotted him. They stared at each other a moment before Cremieux relaxed his breathing.

"You're very good," Cremieux complimented his intruder. "I never suspected a thing until I felt that I was being watched."

Erik pursed his lips and nodded back toward the staircase. "Will she come back down?" he whispered.

"Not a chance," the older man laughed, "and my wife is partially deaf, so you don't have to whisper," he added, getting up stiffly and moving toward his desk. "Have a seat by the fire and warm yourself—would you like a drink?"

Erik walked toward him, reaching inside his jacket to produce the packet addressed to him. "No thank you," he answered quietly, extending the envelope. "I am only here to deliver this."

Cremieux looked up from the glass he had poured, glancing at it with a frown. "Will I need this after I open that?"

Erik nodded, dropping it onto the desk. "Most definitely," he assured him, watching Cremieux take a quick swallow of what smelled like cognac.

"I'll read it by the fire," Cremieux stated, picking up the envelope as he passed by. "But I insist that you sit down—you are making me nervous."

"I cannot wait to carry back a reply," Erik said tightly, "unless of course you 'insist.'"

Cremieux chuckled, sitting down but holding his glare. "All business, aren't you? What's the matter, your own wife waiting up for you?"

Even more irritated by his attitude than the forced servitude which characterized their relationship, Erik rested his arm along the mantle and gazed down into the flames. "I'm sure you already know the answer to that," he drawled.

"If I hadn't insisted that the inspector relax his strictures, you wouldn't be allowed to see her at all," Cremieux said glibly, opening the envelope. "At least direct the blame to the right person."

Erik turned his head with a half smile. "My humble apologies, sir."

Cremieux looked up from the stack of documents on his lap, gesturing to the couch opposite him. "You can't affect me with your sarcasm—I'm a politician don't forget."

"Touché," Erik said with a half bow as he nevertheless slid onto the sofa. Praying that the wife would not come down and see him, he waited impatiently as the delivery was quickly examined. "I would appreciate a quick dismissal," he hinted, tapping his fingers upon the arm of the sofa.

Ignoring him, Cremieux leafed through the papers, focusing upon one. This he lifted as he glanced toward Erik suspiciously. "I suppose this was your idea," he mused with a curling smile.

Knowing immediately which paper he indicated, Erik shrugged innocently. "But I am just the humble delivery boy."

"Ha!" Cremieux said, shaking his head and scanning the rest of the papers. "I've heard of Pieter deGraaf, who's been involved in this kind of thing for some time," he replied. "He's never approached this subject, to my knowledge. The rabbi, though intelligent and promising, is too inexperienced to have formulated this, and never was a refugee himself."

Eager to leave, Erik decided to cooperate. Moving to the edge of his seat, he laced his gloved fingers together. "You might blame the older rabbi and his comrades, rather than credit me."

Cremieux looked up to study him critically. "They would have had to been politicians or professors at the very least…no, this is clearly your style."

"And why might you think that?"

"It's a bit too emotionally charged, written from the viewpoint of someone well acquainted with the injustices of society."

"Pieter's attorney is very capable," he hinted.

"Admit it—the suggestions are undoubtedly yours!"

Erik smiled, insisting on maintaining the anonymity enforced upon him. "I admit to nothing except my intense desire for a warm bed and some sleep."

"I know you wrote most of it—I've reviewed all the documentation you sent to Leger from the parish."

"What does it matter who wrote it?" Erik indicated with mounting frustration. "The point is who will do something about it?"

Cremieux held his accusing stare and sighed tiredly, leaning back against his seat. "You're right, and I should have done something sooner…apparently my long career in politics has shifted my focus to a much smaller scale."

Erik got up and faced the fire, pulling off his gloves to stretch his cold hands toward it. "Any of us might be guilty of the same thing," he replied, thinking of his own former preoccupation with himself.

"I'm getting too old for this sort of thing, and the constant battling wears one out," Cremieux complained.

"I know exactly what you mean," Erik agreed, turning and pulling on his gloves. When he looked up it seemed that Cremieux was lost in thought, staring into the fire. "Your decision?" he prompted.

Cremieux glanced up at him. "I will consider it."

Taking that as his cue to leave, Erik nodded and went to the threshold. There he paused and turned. "If there had been any other way, I would not have disturbed you at your home."

"I realize that," Cremieux said with a wave of his hand. Setting aside the papers, he got up and led him out into the corridor, escorting him to the door as if he were a visitor. "As for your own situation, you should take comfort in the fact that all these trials and tribulations might someday result in a world wide aid organization."

Erik paused at the door, letting him reach past him to open it. "If that is the case, then I will—now, if you will excuse me?"

Cremieux stood at the door watching him slip back out into the darkness. By the time he had crossed the yard Erik regretted his harsh manner with the man, realizing that had he been in the same position he probably would not even have considered being part of the plan he'd just literally deposited into his lap. Time would tell whether he could pull together both Leger's and Daniel's work, thus strengthening it and use his position to pressure the proper authorities into ceasing their campaign of violence. With that sober thought, he crept down the slope which led back to the cul de sac. The matter needed much prayer, he decided, and committed himself to that end. As he headed back toward the synagogue, he thought of Meg alone in their house and sighed, resigned to a few more days' work and another trip to the parish until he could see her again.

Stretching lazily and smiling, Meg slowly awoke to memories of her last hours with her husband. Feeling rested for the first time in many days, her body sang with quiet satisfaction and the knowledge that it was all because of Erik. Sliding an arm beneath his untested pillow she drew it close, pretending it was him. With a half contented sigh she gazed at the sunlight streaming in through the window opposite their bed, yawning and tightened her arms around it. Willing him to come back, she consoled herself with thoughts of the future, when she envisioned them eating breakfast in bed, as well as thoughts of the past.

After a late breakfast at the shelter for which they had disguised themselves in order to blend into the crowd of homeless, Erik had managed to catch up with news of its operation from Aaron and Esther. He had to do it piecemeal, and while he did so she had tried to thank Esther for her help in allowing them to be together. Smiling her thanks across a crowded table, she knew Esther understood. And later, helping to clean up, he was able to get close enough to Saul to tug his sleeve in silent greeting, earning only a puzzled frown from him. Esther caught him later and whispered to him, no doubt explaining who she was. Then Erik gave her a signal to precede him and wait for him at the stables and she started for the tunnel, nodding her thanks to Aaron as covertly as possible. She hoped that she had not offended him by trespassing the lines of his authority, trusting Erik to explain her motive and also hopefully ease any rift her coming may have caused between Aaron and Esther.

Now, tracing the scalloped edge of the pillow cover, she missed Erik with something akin to pain. She could not argue with his insistence that she spend the night alone here in their new home, for outside Leger's men were guarding the premises as covertly as possible. With the premiere only days away, security at the opera house was even more stringent and several people had to be escorted off the grounds for trespassing. Erik had even hired them a carriage from a different part of the city, and on their drive here they had removed their borrowed coats disguises. He led her around the back of the property through the woods, letting them in through the sunroom entrance where they would not be seen from the street.

Toying with a tendril of her hair she blushed at the memory of their arrival, still picturing him unlocking the back door and sweeping her off her feet to carry her inside, as if she were a new bride. Once inside she had done all she could to convince him to stay, bringing them closer to another breathtaking encounter but he had groaned with regret, dislodged her hands from his neck and insisted upon leaving. Not in the least bit guilty, she nevertheless had to bend to his iron will and superior strength and let him go. But not before he'd set her down upon the countertop and stepped between her legs.

"Another time, my love," he breathed against her lips, pausing to caress her and bestow upon her a farewell kiss filled with promise of his eager return. Then all too quickly he had turned and let himself out, locking the door behind him and leaving her to catch her breath and watch until he vanished from sight. The rest of her lonely afternoon had been spent exploring the home he had designed for her. The care and attention to detail he'd invested in each room thrilled her, making her feel cherished and loved. Most of all, the dance studio stood out as his crowning achievement, for in it she could envision private tutoring and classes, a livelihood she had always dreamed of. Running her fingertips across the keys of the baby grand piano that dominated one corner, she smiled and saw herself dancing for his eyes alone while he played for her.

Suddenly unable to stand the vacuum his leaving had created, she sat up and shimmied to the side of the mattress, lowering herself from the platform as she drew the curtain halfway around the bed. As she changed into a day dress, she planned on at least two hours of practice for Don Juan and the special choreography intended for "Meg's Song." After that she would take a bath, have a late supper alone and wait for her ride back to the opera house in the morning. As for Erik, he would be busy with whatever tasks Leger had for him, and when he was free then would spend the entire day before the premiere alone together in this very house.

Daniel lowered his headand quickened his pace as he walked, reciting the shema in a whisper: "Hear, O Israel: The L-rd our G-d, the L-RD is one. You shall love the L-RD your G-d with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength. And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart…you shall talk of them…when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up…"

"Excuse me sir!" a raspy voice called out, startling him even more.

Increasing his speed, he heard the steps behind him shorten the distance between them as he continued to pray. "And you shall do what is right and good in the sight of the L-ORD, that it may be well with you, and that you may go in and possess the good land of which the L-ORD swore to your fathers, to cast out all your enemies from before you, as the L-ORD has spoken."1

"I merely wish directions, sir!" the voice called, and finally Daniel dared a glance back over his shoulder.

"You speak to me?" he yelled, pointing a finger at his own chest as he kept walking.

"I need to find the police," the man complained, running up to walk at his side. "Surely a man like you would know."

Daniel glanced at his lined and cruel face, revulsion swirling inside him. "You mistake me for someone else," he said tightly, quickening his pace.

"I think not," the man snarled, swerving closer as they walked.

"The police are the other way," Daniel shouted, "toward the city center."

"You know Inspector Leger," the man sneered, "you are a good citizen, no?"

"City Hall—the police are next door," Daniel complained, waving his arm in dismissal.

"Show me, then—I will pay you handsomely."

"Hire a carriage," Daniel suggested through his teeth, lengthening his stride. "And good luck." To his surprise and relief the man stopped abruptly though he walked away.

"So much for kindness to strangers!" the man sneered as Daniel turned onto a different street. "You will regret this, Jew!"

His heart pounding, Daniel jogged up the empty street, deciding that his late night meeting with Erik would have to be changed. Left with the choice to go to his parents' house as planned and risk being followed there, he decided to head for the stables, take the tunnel and leave Erik a note under his door, just to be safe. His parents would just have to conclude that he had been detained by a member of the synagogue. But he was going to send the stable boy to Leger with a report and request better security.

"Maybe I am paranoid," he whispered, laughing nervously to himself as he glanced behind but saw nothing. Perhaps it was nothing more than the usual anti Semitic encounter, not anything to do with his other work. "I should go back to yeshiva and stay there," he muttered, knowing he could no more do that than ignore the plight of his own people.

By late Monday an icy rainstorm enshrouded the mountains, forcing them to walk their horses down from the parish to the village. Weaving silently along an alternate path which cut through the woods, Erik winced as he watched Daniel slip on the half frozen ground. Catching the end of his muttered complaint in Yiddish, he turned again to glance behind them, sensing that somehow they were being tracked. The feeling had plagued him for the past hour, yet he was relieved that they were already far below the parish and would not provide any clues for finding it. Thinking of mentioning it to Daniel he decided against it. Still shaken after his strange encounter on the streets of Paris two days ago, Daniel would only worry and that would distract him. They had delayed meeting and escorting the couple and two men who now rested comfortable in Arlene's care, but still Daniel seemed on edge, more troubled than Erik had ever noted. Perhaps he too sensed they were being followed.

Sliding on a patch of frozen moss, Erik reached out and grasped a sapling to support himself, hearing Prince's splutter of protest. Though accustomed to hard riding and the uncertain situations of his owner's circumstances, Prince was nevertheless on edge, perhaps even more eager to reach the lowlands and hurry back home than he was.

"Easy boy," he soothed, dropping further behind Daniel, who turned to note the change. Erik knew that by light of day he would be able to follow the trail himself, and they had already agreed to meet at the fork in the river should anything separate them. As the one more familiar with their environs, he was in charge, and Daniel's nod told him that he was now aware of the threat and would act accordingly. Turning back to concentrate on his footing, Erik watched him move closer to his mare as he continued along, leaving him free to attempt to gauge the position of whoever followed them. Praying again for Daniel's protection, Erik slowed his lead of Prince and stopped, pretending to check his foot. Lifting the left front hoof, he poked at it with a gloved finger, glancing furtively toward Daniel's back.

To his surprise something struck Daniel in the arm and Erik dropped Prince's foot. Daniel cried out in protest but scrambled to mount his mare while Erik jumped onto Prince's back. Turning toward the direction from which the rock had sailed, he rode through the trees, feeling something slam into his own arm. Out of cover of the trees he saw a rider charging toward Daniel, his black cloak waving ominously behind him. At that moment Prince veered suddenly to avoid a boulder, nearly unseating him. Clinging to the pommel, he watched the rider close in on Daniel. Hearing the sound of rushing water, Erik realized that they had ridden toward the river, and reaching for his dagger he flung it and hit the man's arm just as Daniel's horse whinnied and stumbled, throwing its rider. To his horror he saw the man pull up and slide from his own horse. Charging toward them, he saw Daniel's mare and the man's horse both canter off into the woods just as Prince delivered him quickly to their side.

To Erik's amazement the man pulled the dagger from his arm before he struck the already faint Daniel. Lunging toward him, Erik knocked him away, noting that Daniel was unconscious. They fought fiercely, the man brandishing his own dagger as their steps took them closer to the river. Its sound was deafening, its gray white capped currents swollen from the rains. At one point the man began to run away, and chasing him through the trees brought them to the high ground just above the banks. The rain pelted them forcefully and made them both slip, but the man was faster and bigger than he anticipated. Chasing him along the ledge, Erik ducked when he turned suddenly and flung his own dagger back toward him. It buried itself in a tree trunk not too distant from his head.

Growling in anger, Erik felt his strength return despite the heavy drag of his sodden clothing. He caught up with the man and caught his hood, pulling it back off his head just before he turned and swung at him. He swung back and took a kick in the side, slipping and grunting in pain. Though the man was a head shorter he was twice his girth, obviously heavily muscled beneath his dark clothing. They fought for what seemed like hours, staggering among the trees and using their discarded branches as clubs. Bruised and bleeding, they both turned to grip each other just before the man smashed his forehead into Erik's. Dazed, Erik shoved him away just as he felt the earth give way beneath his feet. The man cried out in a strange language, catching Erik's coat as he fell backward from the ledge.

With a loud splash they fell together into the icy waters, still swinging at each other. The current shoved at their legs and Erik slipped, feeling the man's hands grab his arm as they were both embraced by the powerful arms of the current. Swept quickly along the course of the river, Erik struggled for his footing, dodging their boulder strewn path. The man slammed into one, kicking at Erik hard enough to knock him off his feet. The water was numbing his extremities but he swung back, finally separating them as the current pulled them farther apart. Grabbing at a tree that had fallen halfway across the span, Erik felt as if his arm was being torn from the socket. He watched the man drift away, he head smacking loudly against a rock before he felt facedown into the water.

Something struck him from behind and Erik found his hold dislodged. The current shoved him toward the rocks but he kicked as hard as he could toward the middle in an effort to find deeper water and so avoid the rocks. He was swept around a bend in the river as he stroked and kicked, but to no avail. Growing weaker and shivering from the cold, he gave up fighting the current and let it take him. Several times he went below the surface only to bob up to the surface, no longer in control of his course. The rain beat upon his head, blurring his vision. He tasted blood and became aware of the wheezing of his own breath, and with one last burst of effort he lunged toward the bank at another bend in the river, praying for Daniel, then for Meg and Louise. Finally, closing his eyes in exhaustion, he added himself to his plea for mercy.

"What do you mean, you've 'lost track of him'?" Meg screeched, gripping Inspector Leger's arm and feeling sick to her stomach. Hating the cool gaze boring into hers, she shook him. "Answer me!"

"We are doing everything we can to reestablish contact," he assured her in that professional voice she longed to break. "As soon we hear from him we will let you know—"

"He was scheduled to meet you here yesterday," she growled, looking to Detective Gilbert for help, but he merely shrugged. "Has he ever missed an appointment before?"

Leger, to his credit, had the grace to look almost stricken with guilt. "Only one other time," he admitted quietly, gesturing to his clerk to escort her back to her office for a cup of tea.

"That's right, when the Buquet brothers held him in their cabin, so you know something has happened to him!" she railed, ignoring his flinch of response. "If you're going to send him out on a dangerous assignment the least you can do is know where he is!"

"I have already dispatched two dozen of my men, but if he has altered the plan without informing us there is nothing more we can do until he contacts us."

"That's not good enough, Inspector, and I want to know what 'plan'—"

"As you well know, the nature of your husband's work is of the utmost—"

"I don't care about that!" Meg spat, flinging his arm aside. "I want you to tell me where Erik is right now, and I'll go look for him myself—"

"Perhaps I might be of some help," a hesitant voice interrupted, startling them both. Meg whirled to face a tall, slender man who stood in Leger's door, his clothes wrinkled and his face bruised and dirty. "I was with him before he disappeared.

Leger moved between them, blocking Meg's view. "Are you all right?" he asked in a subdued voice, motioning for him to enter and Gilbert to close the door. "Has there been a change in plan?"

Meg moved between them to grab the man's arm. "You were with my husband?" she choked, noting his beard and compassionate eyes. Suddenly she gasped in recognition. "You're Rabbi Daniel—the one Rosalie told me about!"

He glanced at Leger, his expression tortured. "I searched and searched, but found no trace of him—"

"Searched where?" Leger demanded.

"I tried to get here as soon as I could, to let you know, but I got lost—"

"Please," Meg pleaded, gripping his arm. "Tell me what happened—for two days now I've had a feeling that something is terribly wrong."

"You're his wife," Daniel said softly as if thinking aloud.

"Whatever you say must be held in strictest confidence," Leger warned him. "It's for both their good."

"I have faith that Gi—that Erik will be all right," Daniel said to her alone.

"She already knows we have men out searching the city," Leger said sternly, his disapproval evident.

"He's nowhere near here," he replied carefully, "and his wife has a right to know."

Leger sighed deeply, gesturing toward the chair by his desk. "Be as brief as possible then," he ordered. "We need to find him quickly, before anyone else does."

c. 2008 by Christine Levitt 1the shema is found in Deuteronomy chapter 6 of the Bible