Underbelly (20 page)

“
Two out of three’s good in my book and you beat the magician with a knockout blow, so that’s three out of four. Not as good as my percentage of wins but it’s still pretty good and worth celebrating,” Otilio said encouragingly. What Grey had done was no small feat and he was impressed.

“
I didn’t beat Cecil Winston, Isdel gets the credit for that, though if there was ever any consequences I’d take the rap,” Grey said, having heard how Winston had crumbled after Delgado’s threats.

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Once we’ve dropped him off we’re leaving the state – there won’t be any consequences,” Delgado said, feeling no guilt for his actions as he knew he’d acted correctly, not prone to self-doubt, unlike Grey.

“
We could go out around the town tonight and head back tomorrow. He’s fucking 90; they won’t find him having a heart attack suspicious. This might be normal for you two but this is new to me and I want a gallon of tequila poured down my throat to help me get used to it, Del,” Otilio said, dealing very well with what he had just witnessed (his ultra-religious upbringing dealt with Satan and demons as real and ever present), and using his very mild shock to try and talk Delgado round.

“
We’ll buy some grog in LA on the way back and you can have as much as you want. Don’t worry about any of it though, Otilio. The church and God are much more powerful than any of the practitioners, even more than him though he’s on the side of the angels,” Delgado said, referring to Grey, who still looked shaken up. “It might be best if you had a couple of bottles too.”

Grey nodded in agreement, keen to lose his senses for a few hours.

Conrad shook all of their hands when they arrived at his father’s home just outside of Los Angeles, telling Grey to get back in touch with him soon and leaving them for an emotional reunion. He promised Grey that he would check on Thomas Hepworth for him, which made him feel a little better. As he drank on the homecoming leg of their trip Grey questioned why his success made him so miserable, why he brooded so over it. The problem was that he liked the men he had been pitted against, the men he had defeated absolutely. He could help them still; that was how he could feel better about the whole affair. He realised how lucky he was to still be in possession of his body, how lucky he was to be going back to see his wife, and his spirits lifted. Two days of travelling was enough for all three of them to get their thoughts in order and they returned to a friendly grilling from Delgado’s parents, Delgado subverting the truth without overtly lying (‘we met some interesting people and travelled all over the state’). Germaine knew the real reason for their journey to California and asked Grey privately for a full and truthful account. She learnt more than she could deal with, bursting into tears when she heard how close she came to losing him (he pondered over whether to soften the tale but realised she would prefer absolute honesty, and as he had come through it all unscathed he opted for openness). By telling her everything she understood why he couldn’t take her to California (though the risk of arrest was slim, it was enough to put both of them off), though he still apologised.

“
You must think I’d do anything to get out of keeping my promise to take you to Hollywood.”

“
I don’t mind. Why do I need to meet actors when I’m married to a hero?” She could never be angry with him for taking risks to help others – it would send her grey and make her wrinkled before her time but she was very proud of him. She felt an absolute coward for not helping her mother when she was in danger, her sister dying trying to save her, and she could never berate her husband for having the heroic qualities that she felt she lacked, even if those qualities endangered their future.

“
I don’t believe I deserve that accolade, but I do appreciate it. I wasn’t even tempted to look around it without you – it would have meant nothing to me,” he said, a white lie to flatter her

“
And remember, James, I’ve heard of the actors but only from reading about them in the papers, I’ve never seen their films – I’d much rather meet Danielle Darrieux than Betty Grable. I would have enjoyed going there with you and I’ll enjoy going wherever we do go next.”

“
And I’m going to give you the choice,” he said, opening up his small atlas of the world and turning to North America. He pointed out the different places he had messages to pass on, a large proportion to the east but with over 30 in the Northern states of Idaho, Montana, Washington, Oregon and South Dakota. She enjoyed having the choice, the path that Grey had intended to take ruined by his decision to stay clear of California for a while, and she asked him to describe what each place would be like to help her make her decision. His description of rodeos, ranches and the Wild West made her point towards Texas over the northern route, which would take them too close to California.

They departed the next day, Grey offering his heartfelt thanks to Delgado, embracing him and promising him he’d reward him for saving his life again when he’d made it as a professional medium. Delgado felt that the profession Grey talked of attempting was a mistake, but said nothing, wanting to part on good terms. During her week alone with the Delgados Germaine had become no closer to Solymar, who had been much quieter without her son or Grey around, and Cuauhtémoc (who was friendly to her) was hardly there, working 12 hour shifts with his son not around to nag him (Isdel Delgado was concerned about his father’s health and counted his hours and lectured him if they went over 42). Despite this Solymar hugged her like a daughter as they said goodbye and Germaine left feeling that she would be happy to see them all again, provided she and James had their own place to stay, the shared quarters being what had strained things rather than any personality clashes. From here on in the tour would consist of private lodgings just for the two of them and the thought gladdened her heart as she snuggled up to him on the coach taking them out of Phoenix.

Chapter 4 – Reflections

Farid Parvinzadeh looked forward to his weekly meetings with Sarah Curtis, the two of them usually studying together at Boston University library before going out for a coffee and to talk further. They were both foreigners in America, an Iranian and an Englishwoman, and they were both history buffs, Farid a professor while Sarah just claimed to be a student, albeit a student with the knowledge of learned academics. Their joint interest had been what had started them talking to each other, both perusing the same section and borrowing the same books. His particular area of expertise was Persian history, which he enjoyed researching in his spare time, passing on his knowledge to Sarah, who was an authority on European history and lacked his in-depth knowledge of Asian history. He was glad to assist her in discovering all that she could of Persian history, her interest an ardent passion and far more genuine than most of his lacklustre students. She wanted to know of more than the rulers; she wanted to know every facet of society and was particularly interested in some of the esoteric ideas of the time, of the Mawlawites and Rifa-ites. He now knew why, and looked forward to this meeting much more than the previous four.

He saw her poring over a gargantuan book, the sort that made his students weep, with three huge tomes on the desk beside her. She looked up at him and smiled, and in that moment he found her attractive for the first time. He was happily married and had been for 22 years, since he was 19, temptation a stranger to him. The attraction surprised him though it did not concern him, his will strong enough to curb any attraction. Even if he had been single he would have been equally restrained, acutely aware that she was not a woman to entangle himself with.

She saw that he was looking at her strangely and she pushed her short blonde curls away from her face and said, “What’s up, Prof?”

“
I had an interesting phone call about you, Miss Curtis, or should that be Miss Spencer or perhaps Aolfa?”

Her expression changed to one of hostility and she said with a scowl, “That’s a different religion. Surely you’re not aligned with them?”

“
I’m a professor of history and theology, not a minister of any religion. They warned me of what you were, which was considerate of them, but I make up my own mind. Their poor opinion of you makes no difference to me, and just because they reject you, it doesn’t automatically mean that my faith would do the same. I’m not trying to convert you, merely expressing an opinion. I’ve read about you before, and, as a historian, I am fascinated by you and would like to talk to you further.”

“
I suppose I’m good for a thesis,” she said, standing up and putting on her coat, preparing to leave. She appreciated that he had been upfront with her, though found his reasoning askew – if he had truly read of her he would not expect her to conduct an interview, discretion her way throughout most of her long life. She would have expected a little fear too, especially from such an intelligent man, his wonder outweighing everything else.

“
I’m sorry if I’ve upset you – perhaps this wasn’t the place to tell you,” he said, realising he’d misjudged things. “May I accompany you?”

She considered his request and said, “That depends what your game is. Are you going to report back to them? Will you be able to resist making a record of our conversation for posterity?”

He opened his mouth, about to answer and stopping himself to pick his words more carefully, aware she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

“
I thought so,” she said, walking away from him, his hesitation speaking volumes.

He followed her out of the building and said, “I intended to keep a record of what you told me, but only for myself, not as a tool to destroy you with, I promise you.”

From her brief encounters with him Laura felt that he was a man of his word, but any written record about her, even just a diary entry, was unacceptable. “Please, Farid, you’re a very intelligent man. Following me around like a starstruck autograph hunter demeans you,” she said with disdain.

“
You are written of as the Ninth Heretic. I’ll risk shame to learn more of you.”

“
Oh, you’re risking more than that,” she said threateningly. She picked up her pace, trying to shake him off, and said, “I thought European history wasn’t your forte?”

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It isn’t – you’re written about in many texts.”

“
Obviously I eliminated the wrong people. I should have killed all of the scribes. What do you want from me?” she said, starting to become genuinely angry by his persistence.

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One talk, which I vow will stay in my head and will never be written on paper or shared with anyone, even family.”

She considered this and stopped walking and said, “If I don’t like your questions I won’t answer them, and I want to know everything they said to you.”

“
They talked to me in confidence,” he said, feeling it would be wrong to tell her everything the church’s representative said to him (which castigated her severely).

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Goodbye,” she said, jogging away until he called her name, wisely shouting Sarah (anything else would have made her keep walking). She looked back at him and he nodded, agreeing to her conditions. Laura changed the rules and told him that before she would talk to him he would have to research all of the occult rites and history of the Persian Empire and present his findings to her in a document, complete with bibliography so that she could check his sources.