BACK    CONTENTS    ABOUT

Page 45.

24. Arrive Luxembourg-Gare

Hannah felt shaken. "That man was looking at me."

"You are dreaming," Rick said—without looking too sure.

"No really," she said, "he looked Chinese, and his eyes looked right into me as if he recognized me. I've never seen him before. He is probably one of Wan's creepy goons."

"Oh god let's hope not." Rick squeezed her arm close to him, and she pressed against him. "What now?"

They stood overlooking a major transit hub, consisting of a relatively wide avenue with a row of hotels and restaurants opposite. On the nearer side were ample islands for buses, taxis, parked limos, and even a trolley turn-around.

Hannah made a quick phone call on her low-end cell. It reminded Rick he wanted to buy another burner, thinking he'd break down and call JAG again. She spoke briefly, and put the phone away. "That was Mélusine. She says she is working but will be home this evening. She and her husband, Romain, are going to dinner after work. She said she'll leave a key under the mat for us. Just make ourselves at home. It's only a half hour walk from here in a part of town called Belair. So, we'll walk there to kill some time. But we have urgent business first."

He had been here a few times on weekend passes, but never on business. Never with anything more than the next tavern and beer in mind before taking a taxi to a decent hotel outside town, where the rates were cheaper.

"I was here as a child," she said. "I don't remember too much, but I did a lot of research on the Internet before I ran away from Wan, so that's mainly what I know. Look." She pointed across the street with her free hand. "That's the post office where we need to go." She looked back. "Nobody following us, as far as I can see."

Together, they hurried across the Place de la Gare, to the Gare-related main post office. It was little more than a busy storefront, but very efficient and official looking, almost like a bank.

The weather had cleared, leaving the air breezy and fresh. The sidewalk was busy with pedestrian traffic. Rick looked back, and saw nobody.

Hannah, holding his arm, towed him into the post office lobby. There, a few people milled about doing various things related to mailing letters and packages, plus checking mail boxes.

Several service desks sat behind thick, bullet proof glass, two of them staffed at the moment. Hannah approached an older, gray-haired man who wore a white shirt and a blue sleeveless sweater. "Bonjour," she said.

"Bonjour," he replied. Wéi kann ech haut behelleflech sin? "How can I be helpful today?"

Hannah switched to English. "I am expecting a package today."

"Your identification please," the man said in lightly accented English without breaking stride. People in Luxembourg particularly were used to switching among several languages—Letzebuergesch, German, French, English, and several Romance languages. Grand Duchess Maria Theresa was of Cuban extraction, for one thing; and a third of the population were native to Portugal, Italy, and other points far away.

Hannah produced an international driver's license for Europe, which she had obtained while property of Wan—as a hedge, when she began to think about running away to be with her mother, before the entire dark situation went down.

The lean, bright-eyed clerk compared her I.D. picture with her present appearance. "You play in a rock band now?"

"Yes. It's all a lot of fun."

"When I was young," he said, "I played guitar in a disco."

"That must have been very exciting."

"I don't know. We were all too drunk to know if we were coming or going. Today, I limit myself to two cups of hot tea and some biscuits."

"You'll live longer."

"But you have all the fun." He winked at her. "Here you go." He pushed across the package she had mailed to herself, general delivery.

"I need to forward it to a friend," she told him.

"Of course. No problem. Fill this out." He pushed a pen and a form across the counter.

Rick pressed close behind her as she leaned against the counter, writing while the clerk busied himself about other matters.

"I'm going to forward it to myself at the professor's office," she said. "With an online notice of delivery."

"And then what?"

"I'll tell you." She put a finger over her lips to signal he should be quiet.

The man behind the counter told her, "That will be five Euros, please."

"Very good," she said, and turned her hand upside down, palm up, behind her. Rick slipped a five Euro note onto her hand. She crinkled it up and laid it on the counter.

"Thanks." The clerk took the money, did the usual dance of banking red ink-stamps down to make everything official. He slipped a piece of paper back across. "You can check the online code against the Luxembourg postal service website to see when your package arrives."

"Thank you," Hannah said.

She turned to Rick. "Come on, let's go sightseeing."

She took him by the hand, and towed him outside.

"See anybody?"

Rick looked carefully up and down the broad avenue and the transit square. "Not a bogey in sight." He saw buses and taxis coming and going, pedestrians hurrying across the wide avenue in a brisk wind, pigeons fluttering among the eaves and statues around the greenish-metallic roofing of the train station with its tower—just no bad guys. At least, not the ones from Paris.

"It's light out pretty late this time of year," she said. "Let's take a stroll."

Rick gladly took her hand. "I was hoping you'd say something fun for a change."

TOP