Memories of Midnight

He watched Catherine, thinking. She’s much prettier than I expected. That will make it more interesting. And she has suffered pain. I can read it in her eyes. I will teach her how exquisite pain can be. We will enjoy it together. And when I have finished with her, I will send her where there is no more pain. She will go to the Maker or the Baker. I’m going to enjoy this. I am going to enjoy this very much.

Catherine showed the men to their respective offices, and when they were settled in, she started to return to her own desk. From the corridor Catherine heard the Frenchman yelling at the young boy.

"This is the wrong briefcase, stupid. Mine is the brown one. Brown! Do you understand English?"

"Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir." His voice was filled with panic.

I’m going to have to do something about this, Catherine thought.

Evelyn Kaye said, "If you need any help with this group, I’m here."

"I appreciate it, Evelyn. I’ll let you know."

A few minutes later, Atanas Stavich walked past Catherine’s office. She called out, "Would you come in here a moment, please?"

The boy looked at her with a frightened expression. "Yes, ma’am." He walked in looking as though he expected to be whipped.

"Close the door, please."

"Yes, ma’am."

"Take a chair, Atanas. It is Atanas, isn’t it?"

"Yes, ma’am."

She was trying to put him at ease, and was not succeeding. "There’s nothing to be frightened of."

"No, ma’am."

Catherine sat there studying him, wondering what terrible things had been done to him to make him so fearful. She decided she was going to have to try to learn more about his past.

"Atanas, if anyone here gives you any trouble, or is mean to you, I want you to come to me. Do you understand?"

He swallowed. "Yes, ma’am."

But she wondered if he would have nerve enough to come to her. Someone, somewhere, had broken his spirit.

"We’ll talk later," Catherine said.

The resumes of the delegation showed that they had worked in various divisions of Constantin Demiris’s far-flung empire, so they had all had experience within the organization. The one who puzzled Catherine the most was the amiable Italian, Dino Mattusi. He bombarded Catherine with questions to which he should have known the answers, and he did not seem terribly interested in learning about the London operation. In fact, he seemed less interested in the company than in Catherine’s personal life.

"Are you married?" Mattusi asked.

"No."

"But you have been married?"

"Yes."

"Divorced?"

She wanted to end the conversation. "I’m a widow."

Mattusi grinned at her. "I’ll bet you have a friend. You know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean," Catherine said stiffly. And it’s none of your business. "Are you married?"

"Sì, sì. I have a wife and four beautiful bambini. They miss me so much when I am away from home."

"Do you travel a great deal, Mr. Mattusi?"

He looked hurt. "Dino, Dino. Mr. Mattusi is my father. Yes, I travel a great deal." He smiled at Catherine and lowered his voice. "But sometimes traveling can bring some extra pleasures. You know what I mean?"

Catherine returned his smile. "No."

At 12:15 that afternoon, Catherine left to keep her appointment with Dr. Hamilton. To her surprise, she found herself looking forward to it. She remembered how upset she had been the last time she had gone to see him. This time, she walked into his office filled with a sense of anticipation. The receptionist had gone to lunch and the door to the doctor’s office was open. Alan Hamilton was waiting for her.

"Come in," he greeted her.

Catherine walked into the office and he indicated a chair.

"Well. Did you have a good week?"

Was it a good week? Not really. She had been unable to get Kirk Reynolds’s death out of her mind. "It was all right. I – I keep busy."

"That’s very helpful. How long have you worked for Constantin Demiris?"

"Four months."

"Do you enjoy your work?"

"It keeps my mind off…off of things. I owe a lot to Mr. Demiris. I can’t tell you how much he’s done for me." Catherine smiled ruefully. "But I guess I will, won’t I?"

Alan Hamilton shook his head. "You’ll tell me only what you want to tell me."

There was a silence. She finally broke it. "My husband used to work for Mr. Demiris. He was his pilot. I…I had a boating accident and I lost my memory. When I regained it, Mr. Demiris offered me this job."

I’m leaving out the pain, and the terror. Am I ashamed to tell him my husband tried to murder me? Is it because I’m afraid he’ll think me less worthwhile?

"It isn’t easy for any of us to talk about our pasts."

Catherine looked at him, silent.

"You said you lost your memory."

"Yes."

"You had a boating accident."

"Yes." Catherine’s lips were stiff, as though she were determined to tell him as little as possible. She was torn with a terrible conflict. She wanted to tell him everything and get his help. She wanted to tell him nothing, to be left alone.

Alan Hamilton was studying her thoughtfully. "Are you divorced?"

Yes. By a firing squad. "He’s…My husband died."

"Miss Alexander…" He hesitated. "Do you mind if I call you Catherine?"

"No."

"I’m Alan. Catherine, what are you afraid of?"

She stiffened. "What makes you think I’m afraid?"

"Aren’t you?"