The Mozart Conspiracy

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Kinski drove the Mercedes fast on the autobahn. They headed south past Graz, then Wolfsberg, Klagenfurt, and finally crossed over the border into Slovenia. Kinski’s police ID got the Mercedes waved through the border with no paper checks.

By the time they were approaching Lake Bled night had fallen and it was snowing hard. The forests were heavy with a canopy of white, and every so often a fallen branch blocked the road, snapped off by the weight of the snowfall. The roads became narrow and twisty, and Kinski had to concentrate hard as the windscreen wipers slapped quickly to and fro with a hypnotic beat. Leigh was asleep in the back seat. As Kinski drove, Ben went through everything he knew, telling it calmly, slowly, methodically.

‘The Order of Ra,’ Kinski snorted. ‘Give me a break.’

‘I knew an African dictator,’ Ben said. ‘He put a tin crown on his head and declared himself a deity. That sounded funny too, but people stopped laughing pretty fast when he had their arms and legs cut off and forced them to eat them in front of him.’

‘Holy shit,’ Kinski said.

‘I don’t care what these bastards call themselves. It doesn’t make them any less real or any less dangerous.’

Kinski didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he asked, ‘What happened to the dictator?’

Ben smiled in the darkness. ‘Someone ate him.’

Their destination was deep in the heart of the Julian Alps, situated in a long valley between snowy mountains. The only road leading to it was a rutted track, and the snowdrifts were deep. They had to stop and fasten snow-chains to the wheels of the Mercedes. Soon afterwards, Kinski pointed to a pinprick of light in the distance. ‘There it is.’

The old convent was almost in total darkness as they approached. The Mercedes’ headlights swept the craggy walls as they passed through a crumbling arch and pulled up in a little courtyard. The convent consisted of a rambling complex of buildings that looked as though they had grown up out of the valley and changed very little in the last five or six centuries. The main entrance was an iron-studded oak door, black with age and framed with ivy.

A warm glow of light appeared in an arched window as the Mercedes pulled up. The old door creaked open and little Clara Kinski came skipping out over the snow. Behind her stood a tall woman in a nun’s habit, carrying a lantern. She looked more than seventy, but she stood straight and walked with a firm step.

Kinski turned off the engine and they climbed out of the car, stretching after the long drive. Clara flew excitedly into her father’s arms. Max the Rottweiler also came running from inside the building and made a big fuss of him, jumping up and licking his hands.

The nun approached with the lantern. Kinski greeted her warmly and introduced Ben and Leigh. ‘This is my old friend Mother Hildegard.’

The Mother Superior welcomed them and led them across the courtyard, showing the way with her lantern. Ben and Leigh followed her. Kinski trailed along behind with Clara hanging on his arm and Max trotting happily in his wake.

They went through a dark cloister and under another arch. Ben could hear the soft lowing of a cow in a stall, and the rustic smell of fresh hay and manure wafted on the cold night air. Beyond the sprawl of convent buildings was a little farm with dry-stone outbuildings and enclosures. Mother Hildegard led them through a gateway to a simple cottage. ‘This is where you will stay, my child,’ she said to Leigh.

Leigh thanked her. ‘You’re sure it’s all right for me to stay here a while?’

‘Karl the groundsman lived here for many years,’ Mother Hildegard smiled. ‘But he is very old now, and has gone to live in a retirement home in Bled. His cottage is likely to be unused for a long time. The simple life we lead does not appeal to all.’

‘As long as I’m not imposing,’ Leigh said.

The nun laid a hand on Leigh’s arm. ‘Any friend of Markus’ is more than welcome here,’ she said.

She showed them inside the simple cottage. It was warm and cosy, and a fire crackled in the log stove. ‘I lit the fire for you, but you men will have to split some logs in the morning.’ She pointed to a cupboard in the small entrance. ‘In there you will find rubber boots and heavy jackets for the cold,’ she said. Keeping warm on top of the stove was a cast-iron tureen of delicious-smelling mutton stew, and the simple wooden table was laid with earthenware plates and cups.

The old nun was watching them closely. She knew all too well that they were in some kind of trouble, but she wasn’t about to ask questions. ‘And now, I will leave you. Clara, you may stay here for an hour, and then you must come straight back and be ready for bed.’

They were all tired, and Clara did a lot of the talking over dinner. They passed around the pot of stew until it was empty. Ben drank one of the bottles of the nuns’ home-made dandelion wine. Clara took a lantern and went running back to the convent building. Max wanted to stay with Kinski, refusing to leave his side. ‘You don’t mind if he shares the attic bedroom with you and me, Ben?’ Kinski asked.

Ben eyed the huge, slavering dog. ‘As long as he doesn’t sleep in my bunk.’

‘Well, I’m beat,’ Kinski said, yawning. He headed up the wooden stairs with Max at his heel.

Ben and Leigh were left alone. ‘I feel like walking,’ she said. ‘Want to come along?’ They found pairs of boots that fitted them, and went out into the night.

The moon’s reflection on the snow made it almost like day. The place was completely still, the scenery breathtaking even in semi-darkness. Leigh felt more relaxed than she had in days. ‘I didn’t want to come here,’ she said as they walked over the crisp snow, their boots crunching. ‘But I’m glad you insisted. I feel protected here.’

Ben nodded. Kinski had chosen well. There was no way anyone could find this place. He was glad that Leigh was happy. Tomorrow he’d be able to head back to Vienna with a clear mind, knowing that she was safe.

They walked on a while. She clapped her hands together. ‘I wish I had some gloves. My hands are freezing.’

‘Let’s go back.’

‘No, it’s beautiful out here. And so nice to be free to walk about without worrying that someone’s going to start shooting at you.’

Ben took her hands and clasped them in his own. ‘My God, they’re so warm,’ she exclaimed. ‘How do you do it?’

Their eyes met, and she suddenly realized they were standing there in the snow facing one other holding hands, and he was smiling at her in the moonlight. She drew back quickly and put her hands in her pockets. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled. ‘Maybe we should get back now.’

The nuns were up and about at six the next morning, attending to the animals and starting their morning chores before prayers and breakfast. Clara ran over to the cottage and thumped on the door.

Ben had risen early, and he was tending to the stove when he heard the child knocking. ‘Your father’s still asleep,’ he said as he let her into the cottage. She was wearing a quilted anorak and a pair of heavy woollen trousers.

‘Daddy always sleeps late when he can,’ she said brightly, hanging her anorak on the back of a chair. She sat down and swung her legs.

‘So you thought you’d come and wake him up before sunrise?’

She giggled. ‘I want to show him Sister Agnes feeding the piglets. They’re so cute!’

‘He can see them later, OK? He needs to sleep.’

‘Can I stay here with you?’

‘Sure. Want some breakfast?’

‘Mother Hildegard left some eggs in the cupboard,’ she said, pointing. ‘They’ve got so many chickens here that there’s always piles of eggs to eat.’

‘I guess we’re having eggs, then.’

‘I like them boiled, just a little bit runny with a piece of Schwarzbrot to dip in them. Please,’ she added.

‘How come your English is so good?’ he asked as he filled a saucepan with water.

‘Because I go to St Mary’s College.’

‘What’s that, a bilingual school?’

She nodded. ‘Most of our lessons are in English. Daddy says it’s the most important language to learn nowadays.’

‘By the time you’re twenty, kids your age will all be learning Chinese.’

She leaned her little elbows on the table. ‘Why’s that?’ she asked.

‘Because the world changes all the time,’ he explained. ‘That’s grown-up stuff you don’t want to know about.’

‘Does your friend Leigh sing in Chinese? They have Chinese opera, don’t they? I saw it on the TV.’

He laughed. ‘I think that’s a little different.’

‘I’ve seen her on TV too. She sings in Italian and French and German.’

‘She’s very clever.’

‘Daddy bought me her Christmas album last year,’ Clara said. ‘It’s called Classical Christmas with Leigh Llew— Llew—’ She smiled. ‘I can’t say it right.’

‘It’s a Welsh name. They speak funny in Wales.’

‘Wales is part of England, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t say that in front of Leigh.’ Ben smiled.

‘Is Leigh your girlfriend?’ Clara giggled, dimples appearing in her cheeks.

He turned and looked at her. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’

‘That’s how I learn things.’

‘You’re too young to learn about things like that.’

‘She should be your girlfriend,’ Clara said seriously, playing with a wooden spoon. ‘I think she wants to be.’

‘Oh really? And how might you know that?’

‘Last night at dinner she was looking at you. You know. Like this.’

Ben laughed. ‘She was looking at me like that? How come I didn’t notice?’

‘And when she speaks to you she does this with her hair.’ Clara sat back in her seat, raised her chin and brushed her fair hair back with her fingers. ‘That’s a sign that a woman likes a man.’

Ben nearly choked. ‘I can see I have a lot to learn from you. Where did you get that from?’

‘I read it.’

‘Not in one of Mother Hildegard’s books, I hope.’

She laughed. ‘No, it was in one of Helga’s magazines.’

‘Helga?’

‘My sitter. Daddy likes her, I think.’

The eggs were ready. Ben spooned one out into an egg-cup and put it down on the wooden platter in front of her. ‘Anyway, little lady, I think you think too much.’ He smiled. ‘Now shut up and eat.’

‘That’s what Daddy says, too.’ Clara shrugged and cracked the top of her egg.