Author's Note: Wow, this story is really flowing. It's so much fun to
write! And thank you all so much for your reviews…I really can't tell you
how much I appreciate it.
Disclaimer: Yeah, you know the drill. It ain't mine. (BTW, Eddie, Katie, Sam, Raoul, Renault, and the poem in the last chapter ARE mine, though, so paws off, lol.)
Part V
"Betrayal"
Helga's new prison was very different from the old. It was as dank and musty and uncomfortable as the other, but where the first had had private stone cells with two prisoners, tops, this had larger cells, closed off only by stout vertical bars, with three or four prisoners to a cell, complete with benches that seemed to double as beds. She felt eyes upon her as she was led in, heard various prisoners cursing at Eddie in dozens of different languages.
They stopped at a cell with two men and one woman in it. "Put her in here for now," Eddie told the guard. The guard produced a ring of keys and opened the door to the cell, throwing Helga in roughly. Eddie gave her a little wave, and they were off.
Helga pulled herself to her feet and brushed herself off. "Well, that wasn't fun," she said brightly. She was hungry, sore, and tired, but somehow, she wasn't beaten. Not yet.
One of the men stood up and walked over to her. "How do you do? I'm Sam." His voice was clipped and cultured, as if he was an American who'd been living abroad for some time.
"Helga. Helga…Pataki," Helga replied, using her old last name on a whim.
"Nice to meet you, Helga. This is my wife, Katie."
Helga shook hands with Katie. "Hi. Nice to meet you." Sam and Katie appeared to be in their early to mid-forties, and Helga wondered what such a nice looking couple could have done to land themselves in a place like this. Sam had clearly once been a powerful man, and was still tall and broad-shouldered, with unruly graying hair. Katie was small and delicate, with darker hair and a kind smile.
"This is Raoul," Sam continued, gesturing to the third prisoner. "He doesn't talk much." Raoul was very large and very silent. Unfazed, Helga marched over and held out a hand.
"Hi, Raoul, I'm Helga." Raoul blinked slowly at her, then held out a meaty paw for her to shake. Helga was astonished at the power in his grip.
"So, what are you doing here, Helga?" Katie asked in a soft voice. Sighing gustily, Helga launched into her story of woe.
"…so my cellmate turned out to be an old friend of mine from when I was a kid. Who knew, right? And we k…" Helga trailed off, blushing. "Eddie got jealous, for some stupid reason, and moved me here. And that's my story."
"That's appalling!" Sam declared.
"Disgusting!" Katie agreed. Even Raoul looked mortified.
"What about you?" Helga asked the older couple. "I mean…no offense, but you look like you could be one of my friends' parents. How did you get into a jail all the way out here?"
Sam shrugged. "Oh, you know how it is. You speak out against a dictator of a small third-world country, you get branded a political criminal…next thing you know, you spend five years of your life passed around from jail to jail."
"Well, it wasn't quite that simple," Katie amended. Helga laughed.
"The concise edition is good enough for me," she said. What kind of crazy luck was this? Two jail cells, four wonderful cellmates. Of course, as nice as these three were, they couldn't hold a candle to Arnold…
* * * * * * *
Arnold stood there for a long time after his door had been bolted behind him. What a change. She was the trusting one, now, and he was the cynic. But his instincts about people had always been sound.
Sure enough, after some time, the door opened, and Niles walked in. He displayed none of the oily smoothness he had put on for Helga—now he was all fury. He planted himself in front of Arnold.
"Think you've won, don't you?" he asked bitterly. "Think you've gotten off scot-free? Do you think she's saved you?"
Arnold didn't answer, but remained looking straight ahead. He knew from experience that nothing enraged Niles more than his own impotence, his inability to control Arnold.
"Answer me!" Niles shouted, shoving Arnold back, flecks of his spit flying onto Arnold's face. Arnold stepped back with the shove, but stayed standing upright, his head held high.
"I don't think you understand this, prisoner," Niles said scathingly. "This is your last chance. Where is the Lotus? Tell me!"
No response. Niles stared at Arnold's unmoving determination for a long time before making his decision.
"Fine," he spat, and the words were sheer bile. "Suit yourself. They tell me you won't break. That you never cry out, no matter how hard they flay you, that you won't even after all this time, and much more will simply harden you to physical pain. Fine. And now, my Helga…you shall not have her. You shall not even have her memory."
Arnold's face didn't change, but inside he was reeling. Could this mean…would they actually…?
Niles' face curled into a cruel sneer. "I'm afraid we can't offer you a phone call," he said in mock apology. "But you can write one last letter." He handed a pen and a sheet of paper to Arnold. "I'll make sure that she gets it." With that, he turned and marched out of the cell, letting the guards closed and bolt the door behind him.
Arnold sank to the ground as if all the air had been suddenly knocked out of him. One last letter… Staring at the blank sheet of paper, he knew it, as innately as he knew that the sun was warm and the sky was blue.
He had just been sentenced to death.
* * * * * * *
Helga was dreaming.
She dreamt that she was nine years old again, in that terrible flood that they had had once, just before Spring Break. Or was it the time she and Arnold accidentally flooded his greenhouse? Maybe it was the ocean, down by the Jersey shore where she and Arnold had won that sand castle contest.
Wherever she was, she was drowning. Everywhere she looked there were gray- green waves, looming higher than her head, threatening to pull her under and suffocate her. She heard her father's voice booming in her head…
"You're a Pataki!"
"Win! Win! Win!"
"I hope I live to see the day you eat your words, girl!"
"Pipe down, girl."
"Helga, what is wrong with you?"
"We Patakis don't talk about things. Sweep 'em under the rug!"
"This never would've happened to Olga."
"I hope I live to see the day you eat you words, girl!"
"You are no daughter of mine!"
"The girl is no longer a Pataki!"
"Losing is unacceptable."
"That's exactly the kind of attitude that breeds losers!"
"I hope I live to see the day you eat your words, girl!"
"We are not going to let some orphan boy and his ancestors win this!"
"Put some hustle in it!"
"You are no daughter of mine!"
"Arnold!" Helga screamed as the waves tossed her like chaff in their angry wake. "Arnold! Help me!" A wave came crashing down on her head and she went under, swallowing sea water. She came up gasping for air and calling for Arnold. "Arnold!"
A hand was shaking her awake. Helga opened her eyes and looked up into Raoul's broad, concerned face. He held out a hand as she realized where she was, and helped her to her feet. She was bitterly cold.
She glanced across the cell, where Sam and Katie were staring at her, strangely quiet. Over the past two days she had shared a cell with them they had always been gregariously friendly, chatty and helpful. But now…they were silent, and looking at her as if she had done something to incredulous to believe. "Are you alright?" she asked.
They glanced at each other, then laughed nervously. "I…I suppose we should be asking you that," Sam said after a pause. "It's just…you were calling out for an 'Arnold' in your sleep."
Helga blushed, but apparently the look on her face showed that she didn't understand the significance for them, because Katie elucidated.
"Arnold was our son's name," she explained.
Helga's brow furrowed. "Was?"
"Well, is…or maybe…I don't know," Katie said, looking rather helpless.
"We haven't seen him in twenty-one years," Sam clarified.
Helga froze. No, it couldn't be. The world wasn't that small… "Tell me about it," she said, her voice wobbling.
"I'm an archaeologist, and Sam is a doctor," Katie began. "We traveled all over the world. We settled down when we had Arnold, but when he was two, we got a call from an old friend. Some people needed our help, so we flew to them, and found ourselves unable to return. We couldn't get out of there for years…we couldn't even contact anyone. There was a horrible dictator, who shut off all communication with the outside word, and we couldn't just leave the people there to him. They depended on us.
"We managed to stay out of jail until about five years ago, but then the dictator decided we were too outspoken and democratic to be free, so he locked us up. Like Sam said, we've been tossed around ever since, and we finally wound up here."
Helga's mouth had gone dry. This was worse…or better…or something very much stranger than seeing Arnold again. Even without having been with Arnold at all…but before jumping to conclusions…
"Did you…" Her voice gave out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Did you by any chance leave Ar—your son in Brooklyn, at a boarding house?"
Katie and Sam looked up in surprise. "Y-Yes…" Katie said. "How did you…?"
"The Sunset Arms?"
Sam nodded. "But how…?"
Helga's jaw dropped. Here it was, this was proof! Now that she looked at them, there was that familiarity, that sense of something she had known and loved her whole life that made her so comfortable around them.
"Your Arnold is my Arnold!" she said.
"Your what?" Sam asked, bewildered.
Helga tried to explain, but the words tumbled all over each other in her haste. "I've known him my whole life…gave me his umbrella…lives with his grandparents…here, in the other jail…"
She felt a heavy hand rest on her shoulder. She looked up to see Raoul giving her a look. A smile crept across her face.
"Okay, from the beginning? I know your son." Katie and Sam's eyes widened. "I've known him my whole life. I met him when I was three years old. We went to school together until college, when he went to NYU and I went to Stanford. He became an archaeologist after college, and I didn't see him after graduation until a few days ago, when he showed up in my cell…or I guess I showed up in his…"
"You mean…your friend? The one Niles was jealous of? That was…Arnold? Our Arnold?" Katie asked. She reached out a trembling hand and Helga took it. "Oh, how I wish I could see him…tell me about my son, Helga. What's he like?"
"Arnold? He's…wonderful," Helga said slowly. She smiled to herself. "He was the bright point of my childhood, the finest person I ever knew. He's more honest than…than anyone. I've never heard him tell a lie, and I've known him all my life. He's kind…the first time I met him, he gave me his umbrella because it was raining and I was cold and scared and alone. He was only three years old."
She sighed, remembering why she had loved Arnold all those years. "He helped so many people…the Pigeon Man, and Coach Wittenberg, and Monkey Man…you have no idea who any of these people are, do you?" she realized, laughing. "The people no one else would help…he reached out to them. He stopped them from tearing down a huge tree in our neighborhood, he saved the Circle Theater, he cleaned up Gerald Field. He got our butcher elected councilman. He's the best friend of Dino Spumoni, the singer, because of all the times he's helped him. He reunited one of the boarders with his daughter—I helped a little with that," she remembered, smiling a little. "I guess he knew what it felt like, to not have your parents."
She gasped, covering her mouth. "I'm so sorry…I didn't mean…"
"It's alright," Sam said. "Please, go on."
She nodded. "He's kind to animals…he freed a giant turtle from the zoo and let this huge fish go and I don't know what else. He always helped all of us through school. He's wise…we always went to him for advice. He always knew just what to do, and he never seemed to mind helping us. I guess we never tried to help him back…" Suddenly she felt saddened by it all. She thought of why else Arnold was wonderful. "He was a wonderful singer, a great math student…he was class president in high school, and editor of the paper. He's an archaeologist now, a good one…he knows where the Lotus of Nefertiti is."
"The Lotus of Nefertiti?" Sam interrupted. "But that's…they've been searching for that for centuries! To find it…that's an…an archaeological miracle!"
"That's Arnold," Helga replied matter-of-factly. "To do something wonderful and beautiful that no one thought possible. I mean, he found good in me, there's not much he can't find…" She laughed a little, sadly. "I loved him so much as a child…I guess I still do."
Suddenly the force of the realization that she had been fighting for six years hit her. "I love him," she said aloud, more to herself than anyone else. "I…I always have. I always will." It was a release, a rush of emotions that felt purging, comforting. She felt warm tears on her cheeks, freed by the storm of feeling raging inside her.
Sam cleared his throat softly. She looked up at the parents of the boy she had loved her whole life. Katie opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly they heard footsteps approaching.
"Renault! Entendez-vous," Eddie's voice commanded. He was talking to Captain Renault, the highest ranking official at this jail. Renault wasn't a bad sort…you got the feeling that he was just doing his job and didn't like the dirty work that Eddie forced him into. From what Helga gathered though, Renault had gotten into some trouble in France and Eddie had bailed him out, pretty much signing Renault on for life service.
"Oui, monsieur?" Renault replied. Helga kept quiet, glad she knew how to speak French.
"Tu connais la fille ici, Helga Geraldine?" Eddie muttered. Helga covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. They were talking about her!
"Oui, monsieur."
"Il y a un garcon qui elle aime dans l'autre prison." There is a boy she loves in the other jail… Helga was too intent on listening in to blush. "A coucher du soleil, ton peloton d'execution? Tu sais quoi tu dois faire." At sunset, your firing squad? You know what to do… Firing—firing squad?!?
"Oui, monsieur." Eddie's footsteps receded down the hallway. Helga sat there, stunned.
"What?" Sam asked, seeing her face go ashen. "What is it?"
Helga didn't respond immediately. She had always had a scheming little mind and a fixed determination. She remembered with brief fondness the time she had slept behind Arnold's couch in order to protect her secret, and had to come through the ceiling of his kitchen in order to get out. It hadn't seemed very funny at the time…
A rudimentary plan formed in her mind. She stood up, smoothed out her dress and hair, and went to the bars of the cell. "Capitaine Renault," she called out.
Renault came into view, a halfway-handsome man in his mid-thirties. He looked displeased about something, and guilty. "Yes, mademoiselle?" he asked gruffly. He usually wasn't this polite with the prisoners, but he really wasn't a bad guy, and he looked like he felt sorry for her. Helga knew why, but masked it.
"S'il vous plait, Capitaine, j'ai un petit chose pour demander de toi," she said politely. Please, Captain, I have a little thing to ask of you… She could tell that her cellmates and all the prisoners in the near vicinity were watching her. Good. An audience always improved her performances. She remembered Jacques at the airport.
Renault brightened. Her accent was perfect, she knew, and to have a pretty girl speak his native language to him must be like a breath of home, the land he could never return to. Inwardly she smiled, a cold, cobra-like smile. Arnold might have a rigid code of honor. She had never had that luxury. She would stoop to anything…anything…for him.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est, mademoiselle?" What is it?
She forced herself to blush fetchingly, feeling only a little guilty as she twisted him around her finger. "C'est tres embarrassante, mais…" It's very embarrassing, but… She lowered her voice. "J'ai peur que je suis enceinte." I'm afraid I'm pregnant.
He looked alarmed—with reason, of course. "Tu es sur?" Are you sure?
She shook her head. "Non. Ca c'est la raison que je voudrais aller chez docteur." No. That's why I want to go to a doctor.
Now he looked truly sorry. "Mais mademoiselle, tu ne peux pas partir. Je vais dire a Monsieur Niles…" But miss, you can't leave. I will tell Mr. Niles…"
She stopped him, her voice alarmed. "Non! C'est trop embarrassante! Et…il va etre fache…" she finished, hanging her head. No! It's too embarrassing! And…he will be angry…
Renault seemed at a loss. "C'est vrai. Je ne sais pas…" True. I don't know…
Helga looked up suddenly, as if a brilliant idea had just struck her. "Peut-etre…si *tu* me prends?" she asked, looking sweetly at him through the bars. Maybe…*you* could take me?
He was obviously torn between wanting to help her, knowing her situation and what Eddie was planning, and following orders and saving his own hide. "Oh, mademoiselle, je ne peux pas…" Oh, miss, I can't…
She lowered her gaze. "D'accord. Je comprend…" It's okay. I understand…
Suddenly Renault seemed to make a decision. "Attende." Wait. He glanced up and down the hall, and, seeing no one, pulled out a ring of keys. Swiftly, he unlocked the cell and opened it slightly. "Vite." Quickly. He beckoned her out of the cell. In his nervousness, he dropped the keys with a raucous jangle, and bent down to pick them up.
Holding the bars of the gate, she shook her head. "Je suis desole, Capitaine Renault…" she whispered. I am sorry, Captain Renault…
With that, she pushed hard on the gate, sending the metal bars into Renault's head. He was knocked off of his haunches and lay on the ground, unconscious.
Helga gingerly opened the gate all the way and ran out to check the hall. There were still no guards to be seen. What a stroke of luck! Quickly, she bent down and took Renault's pulse. It was beating strongly—he had just gotten a bad bump. She set to drag him into the cell.
"Raoul! Give me a hand!" she whispered. He lumbered out of the cell, seeming completely unsurprised by what had just happened, and lifted the unconscious Renault as if he were a rag doll. Carrying him into the cell, he set him down on a bench with a surprising gentleness.
If Raoul was unquestioning, Katie and Sam were shocked. "Helga…what…? Why…?"
Helga paused a minute before explaining. "Raoul, stand guard. If anyone comes, knock them out. If several come at once, we get back in the cell, we close the gate, and we hide Renault and the keys." Raoul nodded and walked out into the hall.
Helga bent over Renault's body, undressing him with competent hands. "Eddie was telling Renault to get his firing squad ready by sunset. For Arnold." She removed Renault's heavy silver watch and glanced at it. Five o' clock. They had two hours. Hopefully, that would be enough. She put the watch on her own wrist, above the manacle. It ought to be useful.
She was surprised that Katie and Sam didn't gasp again. Instead, they seemed to simply steel themselves. "What do you want us to do?" Katie asked.
She had gotten Renault stripped down to his underwear by now. "Sam, put this on," she commanded, tossing him the uniform. He pulled off the decrepit old shirt and pants he had been wearing and began to get into the uniform.
Helga, meanwhile, was rooting through the accessories. Soon she found what she was looking for—a chain lead, like the one that they had used to bring her here. "We—meaning Katie, Raoul, and I—will put this on. Sam, you will march us out of here like you're taking us somewhere. You don't look much like an officer, but the helmet should help."
Sam was surprisingly fast, and was soon fully garbed. Except for one thing.
"Give me your hands," ordered Helga. Looking perplexed, he held them out. Helga searched her keys until she found the one she was looking for—a small silver one. Swiftly, she unbuckled Sam's manacles.
He stared at his bare wrists, pale and sickly-looking compared to the rest of his arms. Incredulously, he rubbed his wrists. "I can't believe it…" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Helga looked up at Katie. "I wish I could unlock yours now, but it'll ruin the escape. You'll have them off soon, I promise."
"I believe you," Katie said, smiling at her.
Sam lifted his chin. "I'm ready," he declared.
"Good," Helga said. "Raoul?" He returned to the cell, and Sam quickly chained the three of them together—Helga, then Katie, then Raoul. He closed the door, locking a still-unconscious Renault in the cell. Then, pulling out Renault's gun, he aimed it at Raoul's back and began to march them out of the jail.
Helga felt the other prisoners' eyes on them as they left. She wished she could free them all, but she knew that there was no time. They couldn't all be lovable silent giants or the long-lost parents of her childhood friends. Some had to be real criminals, and she didn't have time to put them all on trial. So she tried not to look at the faces that would remain with her as long as she lived.
"Incidentally, Helga, where are we going?" Katie whispered from behind her.
Helga smiled to herself, her eyes far away and reckless. "We're going to save your son," she replied.
Ooh…the plot thickens. And it'll get even more complicated, I promise! Tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: Yeah, you know the drill. It ain't mine. (BTW, Eddie, Katie, Sam, Raoul, Renault, and the poem in the last chapter ARE mine, though, so paws off, lol.)
Part V
"Betrayal"
Helga's new prison was very different from the old. It was as dank and musty and uncomfortable as the other, but where the first had had private stone cells with two prisoners, tops, this had larger cells, closed off only by stout vertical bars, with three or four prisoners to a cell, complete with benches that seemed to double as beds. She felt eyes upon her as she was led in, heard various prisoners cursing at Eddie in dozens of different languages.
They stopped at a cell with two men and one woman in it. "Put her in here for now," Eddie told the guard. The guard produced a ring of keys and opened the door to the cell, throwing Helga in roughly. Eddie gave her a little wave, and they were off.
Helga pulled herself to her feet and brushed herself off. "Well, that wasn't fun," she said brightly. She was hungry, sore, and tired, but somehow, she wasn't beaten. Not yet.
One of the men stood up and walked over to her. "How do you do? I'm Sam." His voice was clipped and cultured, as if he was an American who'd been living abroad for some time.
"Helga. Helga…Pataki," Helga replied, using her old last name on a whim.
"Nice to meet you, Helga. This is my wife, Katie."
Helga shook hands with Katie. "Hi. Nice to meet you." Sam and Katie appeared to be in their early to mid-forties, and Helga wondered what such a nice looking couple could have done to land themselves in a place like this. Sam had clearly once been a powerful man, and was still tall and broad-shouldered, with unruly graying hair. Katie was small and delicate, with darker hair and a kind smile.
"This is Raoul," Sam continued, gesturing to the third prisoner. "He doesn't talk much." Raoul was very large and very silent. Unfazed, Helga marched over and held out a hand.
"Hi, Raoul, I'm Helga." Raoul blinked slowly at her, then held out a meaty paw for her to shake. Helga was astonished at the power in his grip.
"So, what are you doing here, Helga?" Katie asked in a soft voice. Sighing gustily, Helga launched into her story of woe.
"…so my cellmate turned out to be an old friend of mine from when I was a kid. Who knew, right? And we k…" Helga trailed off, blushing. "Eddie got jealous, for some stupid reason, and moved me here. And that's my story."
"That's appalling!" Sam declared.
"Disgusting!" Katie agreed. Even Raoul looked mortified.
"What about you?" Helga asked the older couple. "I mean…no offense, but you look like you could be one of my friends' parents. How did you get into a jail all the way out here?"
Sam shrugged. "Oh, you know how it is. You speak out against a dictator of a small third-world country, you get branded a political criminal…next thing you know, you spend five years of your life passed around from jail to jail."
"Well, it wasn't quite that simple," Katie amended. Helga laughed.
"The concise edition is good enough for me," she said. What kind of crazy luck was this? Two jail cells, four wonderful cellmates. Of course, as nice as these three were, they couldn't hold a candle to Arnold…
* * * * * * *
Arnold stood there for a long time after his door had been bolted behind him. What a change. She was the trusting one, now, and he was the cynic. But his instincts about people had always been sound.
Sure enough, after some time, the door opened, and Niles walked in. He displayed none of the oily smoothness he had put on for Helga—now he was all fury. He planted himself in front of Arnold.
"Think you've won, don't you?" he asked bitterly. "Think you've gotten off scot-free? Do you think she's saved you?"
Arnold didn't answer, but remained looking straight ahead. He knew from experience that nothing enraged Niles more than his own impotence, his inability to control Arnold.
"Answer me!" Niles shouted, shoving Arnold back, flecks of his spit flying onto Arnold's face. Arnold stepped back with the shove, but stayed standing upright, his head held high.
"I don't think you understand this, prisoner," Niles said scathingly. "This is your last chance. Where is the Lotus? Tell me!"
No response. Niles stared at Arnold's unmoving determination for a long time before making his decision.
"Fine," he spat, and the words were sheer bile. "Suit yourself. They tell me you won't break. That you never cry out, no matter how hard they flay you, that you won't even after all this time, and much more will simply harden you to physical pain. Fine. And now, my Helga…you shall not have her. You shall not even have her memory."
Arnold's face didn't change, but inside he was reeling. Could this mean…would they actually…?
Niles' face curled into a cruel sneer. "I'm afraid we can't offer you a phone call," he said in mock apology. "But you can write one last letter." He handed a pen and a sheet of paper to Arnold. "I'll make sure that she gets it." With that, he turned and marched out of the cell, letting the guards closed and bolt the door behind him.
Arnold sank to the ground as if all the air had been suddenly knocked out of him. One last letter… Staring at the blank sheet of paper, he knew it, as innately as he knew that the sun was warm and the sky was blue.
He had just been sentenced to death.
* * * * * * *
Helga was dreaming.
She dreamt that she was nine years old again, in that terrible flood that they had had once, just before Spring Break. Or was it the time she and Arnold accidentally flooded his greenhouse? Maybe it was the ocean, down by the Jersey shore where she and Arnold had won that sand castle contest.
Wherever she was, she was drowning. Everywhere she looked there were gray- green waves, looming higher than her head, threatening to pull her under and suffocate her. She heard her father's voice booming in her head…
"You're a Pataki!"
"Win! Win! Win!"
"I hope I live to see the day you eat your words, girl!"
"Pipe down, girl."
"Helga, what is wrong with you?"
"We Patakis don't talk about things. Sweep 'em under the rug!"
"This never would've happened to Olga."
"I hope I live to see the day you eat you words, girl!"
"You are no daughter of mine!"
"The girl is no longer a Pataki!"
"Losing is unacceptable."
"That's exactly the kind of attitude that breeds losers!"
"I hope I live to see the day you eat your words, girl!"
"We are not going to let some orphan boy and his ancestors win this!"
"Put some hustle in it!"
"You are no daughter of mine!"
"Arnold!" Helga screamed as the waves tossed her like chaff in their angry wake. "Arnold! Help me!" A wave came crashing down on her head and she went under, swallowing sea water. She came up gasping for air and calling for Arnold. "Arnold!"
A hand was shaking her awake. Helga opened her eyes and looked up into Raoul's broad, concerned face. He held out a hand as she realized where she was, and helped her to her feet. She was bitterly cold.
She glanced across the cell, where Sam and Katie were staring at her, strangely quiet. Over the past two days she had shared a cell with them they had always been gregariously friendly, chatty and helpful. But now…they were silent, and looking at her as if she had done something to incredulous to believe. "Are you alright?" she asked.
They glanced at each other, then laughed nervously. "I…I suppose we should be asking you that," Sam said after a pause. "It's just…you were calling out for an 'Arnold' in your sleep."
Helga blushed, but apparently the look on her face showed that she didn't understand the significance for them, because Katie elucidated.
"Arnold was our son's name," she explained.
Helga's brow furrowed. "Was?"
"Well, is…or maybe…I don't know," Katie said, looking rather helpless.
"We haven't seen him in twenty-one years," Sam clarified.
Helga froze. No, it couldn't be. The world wasn't that small… "Tell me about it," she said, her voice wobbling.
"I'm an archaeologist, and Sam is a doctor," Katie began. "We traveled all over the world. We settled down when we had Arnold, but when he was two, we got a call from an old friend. Some people needed our help, so we flew to them, and found ourselves unable to return. We couldn't get out of there for years…we couldn't even contact anyone. There was a horrible dictator, who shut off all communication with the outside word, and we couldn't just leave the people there to him. They depended on us.
"We managed to stay out of jail until about five years ago, but then the dictator decided we were too outspoken and democratic to be free, so he locked us up. Like Sam said, we've been tossed around ever since, and we finally wound up here."
Helga's mouth had gone dry. This was worse…or better…or something very much stranger than seeing Arnold again. Even without having been with Arnold at all…but before jumping to conclusions…
"Did you…" Her voice gave out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Did you by any chance leave Ar—your son in Brooklyn, at a boarding house?"
Katie and Sam looked up in surprise. "Y-Yes…" Katie said. "How did you…?"
"The Sunset Arms?"
Sam nodded. "But how…?"
Helga's jaw dropped. Here it was, this was proof! Now that she looked at them, there was that familiarity, that sense of something she had known and loved her whole life that made her so comfortable around them.
"Your Arnold is my Arnold!" she said.
"Your what?" Sam asked, bewildered.
Helga tried to explain, but the words tumbled all over each other in her haste. "I've known him my whole life…gave me his umbrella…lives with his grandparents…here, in the other jail…"
She felt a heavy hand rest on her shoulder. She looked up to see Raoul giving her a look. A smile crept across her face.
"Okay, from the beginning? I know your son." Katie and Sam's eyes widened. "I've known him my whole life. I met him when I was three years old. We went to school together until college, when he went to NYU and I went to Stanford. He became an archaeologist after college, and I didn't see him after graduation until a few days ago, when he showed up in my cell…or I guess I showed up in his…"
"You mean…your friend? The one Niles was jealous of? That was…Arnold? Our Arnold?" Katie asked. She reached out a trembling hand and Helga took it. "Oh, how I wish I could see him…tell me about my son, Helga. What's he like?"
"Arnold? He's…wonderful," Helga said slowly. She smiled to herself. "He was the bright point of my childhood, the finest person I ever knew. He's more honest than…than anyone. I've never heard him tell a lie, and I've known him all my life. He's kind…the first time I met him, he gave me his umbrella because it was raining and I was cold and scared and alone. He was only three years old."
She sighed, remembering why she had loved Arnold all those years. "He helped so many people…the Pigeon Man, and Coach Wittenberg, and Monkey Man…you have no idea who any of these people are, do you?" she realized, laughing. "The people no one else would help…he reached out to them. He stopped them from tearing down a huge tree in our neighborhood, he saved the Circle Theater, he cleaned up Gerald Field. He got our butcher elected councilman. He's the best friend of Dino Spumoni, the singer, because of all the times he's helped him. He reunited one of the boarders with his daughter—I helped a little with that," she remembered, smiling a little. "I guess he knew what it felt like, to not have your parents."
She gasped, covering her mouth. "I'm so sorry…I didn't mean…"
"It's alright," Sam said. "Please, go on."
She nodded. "He's kind to animals…he freed a giant turtle from the zoo and let this huge fish go and I don't know what else. He always helped all of us through school. He's wise…we always went to him for advice. He always knew just what to do, and he never seemed to mind helping us. I guess we never tried to help him back…" Suddenly she felt saddened by it all. She thought of why else Arnold was wonderful. "He was a wonderful singer, a great math student…he was class president in high school, and editor of the paper. He's an archaeologist now, a good one…he knows where the Lotus of Nefertiti is."
"The Lotus of Nefertiti?" Sam interrupted. "But that's…they've been searching for that for centuries! To find it…that's an…an archaeological miracle!"
"That's Arnold," Helga replied matter-of-factly. "To do something wonderful and beautiful that no one thought possible. I mean, he found good in me, there's not much he can't find…" She laughed a little, sadly. "I loved him so much as a child…I guess I still do."
Suddenly the force of the realization that she had been fighting for six years hit her. "I love him," she said aloud, more to herself than anyone else. "I…I always have. I always will." It was a release, a rush of emotions that felt purging, comforting. She felt warm tears on her cheeks, freed by the storm of feeling raging inside her.
Sam cleared his throat softly. She looked up at the parents of the boy she had loved her whole life. Katie opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly they heard footsteps approaching.
"Renault! Entendez-vous," Eddie's voice commanded. He was talking to Captain Renault, the highest ranking official at this jail. Renault wasn't a bad sort…you got the feeling that he was just doing his job and didn't like the dirty work that Eddie forced him into. From what Helga gathered though, Renault had gotten into some trouble in France and Eddie had bailed him out, pretty much signing Renault on for life service.
"Oui, monsieur?" Renault replied. Helga kept quiet, glad she knew how to speak French.
"Tu connais la fille ici, Helga Geraldine?" Eddie muttered. Helga covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. They were talking about her!
"Oui, monsieur."
"Il y a un garcon qui elle aime dans l'autre prison." There is a boy she loves in the other jail… Helga was too intent on listening in to blush. "A coucher du soleil, ton peloton d'execution? Tu sais quoi tu dois faire." At sunset, your firing squad? You know what to do… Firing—firing squad?!?
"Oui, monsieur." Eddie's footsteps receded down the hallway. Helga sat there, stunned.
"What?" Sam asked, seeing her face go ashen. "What is it?"
Helga didn't respond immediately. She had always had a scheming little mind and a fixed determination. She remembered with brief fondness the time she had slept behind Arnold's couch in order to protect her secret, and had to come through the ceiling of his kitchen in order to get out. It hadn't seemed very funny at the time…
A rudimentary plan formed in her mind. She stood up, smoothed out her dress and hair, and went to the bars of the cell. "Capitaine Renault," she called out.
Renault came into view, a halfway-handsome man in his mid-thirties. He looked displeased about something, and guilty. "Yes, mademoiselle?" he asked gruffly. He usually wasn't this polite with the prisoners, but he really wasn't a bad guy, and he looked like he felt sorry for her. Helga knew why, but masked it.
"S'il vous plait, Capitaine, j'ai un petit chose pour demander de toi," she said politely. Please, Captain, I have a little thing to ask of you… She could tell that her cellmates and all the prisoners in the near vicinity were watching her. Good. An audience always improved her performances. She remembered Jacques at the airport.
Renault brightened. Her accent was perfect, she knew, and to have a pretty girl speak his native language to him must be like a breath of home, the land he could never return to. Inwardly she smiled, a cold, cobra-like smile. Arnold might have a rigid code of honor. She had never had that luxury. She would stoop to anything…anything…for him.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est, mademoiselle?" What is it?
She forced herself to blush fetchingly, feeling only a little guilty as she twisted him around her finger. "C'est tres embarrassante, mais…" It's very embarrassing, but… She lowered her voice. "J'ai peur que je suis enceinte." I'm afraid I'm pregnant.
He looked alarmed—with reason, of course. "Tu es sur?" Are you sure?
She shook her head. "Non. Ca c'est la raison que je voudrais aller chez docteur." No. That's why I want to go to a doctor.
Now he looked truly sorry. "Mais mademoiselle, tu ne peux pas partir. Je vais dire a Monsieur Niles…" But miss, you can't leave. I will tell Mr. Niles…"
She stopped him, her voice alarmed. "Non! C'est trop embarrassante! Et…il va etre fache…" she finished, hanging her head. No! It's too embarrassing! And…he will be angry…
Renault seemed at a loss. "C'est vrai. Je ne sais pas…" True. I don't know…
Helga looked up suddenly, as if a brilliant idea had just struck her. "Peut-etre…si *tu* me prends?" she asked, looking sweetly at him through the bars. Maybe…*you* could take me?
He was obviously torn between wanting to help her, knowing her situation and what Eddie was planning, and following orders and saving his own hide. "Oh, mademoiselle, je ne peux pas…" Oh, miss, I can't…
She lowered her gaze. "D'accord. Je comprend…" It's okay. I understand…
Suddenly Renault seemed to make a decision. "Attende." Wait. He glanced up and down the hall, and, seeing no one, pulled out a ring of keys. Swiftly, he unlocked the cell and opened it slightly. "Vite." Quickly. He beckoned her out of the cell. In his nervousness, he dropped the keys with a raucous jangle, and bent down to pick them up.
Holding the bars of the gate, she shook her head. "Je suis desole, Capitaine Renault…" she whispered. I am sorry, Captain Renault…
With that, she pushed hard on the gate, sending the metal bars into Renault's head. He was knocked off of his haunches and lay on the ground, unconscious.
Helga gingerly opened the gate all the way and ran out to check the hall. There were still no guards to be seen. What a stroke of luck! Quickly, she bent down and took Renault's pulse. It was beating strongly—he had just gotten a bad bump. She set to drag him into the cell.
"Raoul! Give me a hand!" she whispered. He lumbered out of the cell, seeming completely unsurprised by what had just happened, and lifted the unconscious Renault as if he were a rag doll. Carrying him into the cell, he set him down on a bench with a surprising gentleness.
If Raoul was unquestioning, Katie and Sam were shocked. "Helga…what…? Why…?"
Helga paused a minute before explaining. "Raoul, stand guard. If anyone comes, knock them out. If several come at once, we get back in the cell, we close the gate, and we hide Renault and the keys." Raoul nodded and walked out into the hall.
Helga bent over Renault's body, undressing him with competent hands. "Eddie was telling Renault to get his firing squad ready by sunset. For Arnold." She removed Renault's heavy silver watch and glanced at it. Five o' clock. They had two hours. Hopefully, that would be enough. She put the watch on her own wrist, above the manacle. It ought to be useful.
She was surprised that Katie and Sam didn't gasp again. Instead, they seemed to simply steel themselves. "What do you want us to do?" Katie asked.
She had gotten Renault stripped down to his underwear by now. "Sam, put this on," she commanded, tossing him the uniform. He pulled off the decrepit old shirt and pants he had been wearing and began to get into the uniform.
Helga, meanwhile, was rooting through the accessories. Soon she found what she was looking for—a chain lead, like the one that they had used to bring her here. "We—meaning Katie, Raoul, and I—will put this on. Sam, you will march us out of here like you're taking us somewhere. You don't look much like an officer, but the helmet should help."
Sam was surprisingly fast, and was soon fully garbed. Except for one thing.
"Give me your hands," ordered Helga. Looking perplexed, he held them out. Helga searched her keys until she found the one she was looking for—a small silver one. Swiftly, she unbuckled Sam's manacles.
He stared at his bare wrists, pale and sickly-looking compared to the rest of his arms. Incredulously, he rubbed his wrists. "I can't believe it…" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Helga looked up at Katie. "I wish I could unlock yours now, but it'll ruin the escape. You'll have them off soon, I promise."
"I believe you," Katie said, smiling at her.
Sam lifted his chin. "I'm ready," he declared.
"Good," Helga said. "Raoul?" He returned to the cell, and Sam quickly chained the three of them together—Helga, then Katie, then Raoul. He closed the door, locking a still-unconscious Renault in the cell. Then, pulling out Renault's gun, he aimed it at Raoul's back and began to march them out of the jail.
Helga felt the other prisoners' eyes on them as they left. She wished she could free them all, but she knew that there was no time. They couldn't all be lovable silent giants or the long-lost parents of her childhood friends. Some had to be real criminals, and she didn't have time to put them all on trial. So she tried not to look at the faces that would remain with her as long as she lived.
"Incidentally, Helga, where are we going?" Katie whispered from behind her.
Helga smiled to herself, her eyes far away and reckless. "We're going to save your son," she replied.
Ooh…the plot thickens. And it'll get even more complicated, I promise! Tell me what you think!