Chapter 4

April waited in what she thought of as the Wood Room. Made of wood and glass, the small room was dominated by a large window that showed the forest at dusk. Soon the pale light of the moon and stars would not be able to penetrate down to the lower foliage and the night would be black; the only lights would be little flashes of fireflies signaling each other.

She sat in one of the chairs, fearful of the meeting but wanting it over. A glass of red wine clutched in her hand for protection. This room held no desk to hide behind. The glass table would not hide her body from Mary any more than her feeble tricks would hide her mind. Did Martin pick the room to remind her of that? A short attractive woman entered the room and April hid her thoughts as best she could.

"At last I meet you," the small woman said in perfect English, "I'm Mary of Burgundy. We've been together in this same house for three weeks and our host has kept us apart. You understand why, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." Now why did I say that? She looks hardly any older than I am. Must be her regal bearing. She looks like royalty.

"Then you'll understand that I am not being rude if I don't shake hands."

"Can I hear your thoughts when you touch you?"

"No. It's just habit."

"Why did you want to talk to me? Mr. Martin acted as if it were more than just a small thing."

"Martin is a careful man. He's worried about you. He knows that I mean you no harm right now, but he does not know what my future thoughts will be. I am powerful and he doesn't want to be rude to me, but he will if he feels it is necessary to protect you. I'm so sorry that you have lost your family."

"You still haven't answered my question. Why did you want to talk to me?"

"You are in such a hurry. Slow down. Enjoy this moment. When Martin first spoke to me in this room, we sat for two hours looking out the window before we said anything. Young ones are in such a hurry."

"Perhaps it is because we don't live long," April almost spat at her.

"All the more reason to enjoy this," Mary didn't seem offended. "How many times have you sat in a room this beautiful?"

April paused and looked around the room. The light seemed to come from the wood itself. The door was almost invisible, it blended so well into the wood beside it. The room wasn't round, nor was it square; it looked like a regular room but it had no corners. Out the window there was still some light but the fire flies had already started their phosphorescent dances. "I've never seen a room this beautiful."

Mary nodded, "And yet you want to hurry through our talk. Time in here should be cherished, no matter how much time we have on this earth."

"I especially like this room because of the irony," Mary continued. "Martin built this house 25 years ago. He had an architect design the house except for this room. Ten years ago he designed and built the room himself. I'd heard of the room from others who'd come here. It's a great joke amongst us. He longs to make art and thinks that it impossible, as it has been for the rest of us, yet he made this, this wonderful art. When I told him it was art, he said 'perhaps' and that he'd think about it. He will say that, often at times when you wish that he'd just answer a question for you. I'll answer your question, I was just thinking of something else, something enjoyable."

"April, please turn and face me," Mary had turned to face April. I might as well test her now. "We will touch right hands. When we do, I will say that I will not try to read you for the rest of this evening. To be polite, you should say the same. You may have a reason that you don't want to swear that you won't try to read me. It will not make us enemies. You may have a secret that you wish to hide. If that is the case, say 'I can't swear that now.' Do you understand?"

"Yes." Why is she doing this?

Mary held her hand out, April took it in hers.

"I swear that I will not try to read you for the rest of this evening. I swear that I am your friend," Mary looked directly into April's eyes as she spoke.

To April the room seemed to disappear and all that remained was Mary. Her words were true. April forgot to speak as Mary broke the contact.

"Ah, I can't swear that now." April finally remembered the words.

"Good, April. Now we can enjoy the room. Do you mind if I ask for champagne to be brought to us?"

April was still distracted but she managed to answer, "Please, I would like some."

Mary's reaction was one of surprised happiness. She is the one. Four hundred years and now is the time. That's all it took to awaken her. Martin will be angry but he'll come around.

April had sensed her mind. Mary luxuriated in the feeling. It was a feeling to be savored. All too soon she would need to replace it with fear. Tomorrow she would leave before Martin discovered what had happened. Mary planned to be safe some place far away from here.

Mary made a call on her phone and turned to look out the window onto the dark. She imagined that she too was a tree, branches bending and swaying with the wind and other forces of nature, while pushing her way up into the sky. Her thoughts were broken by the arrival of a small gray haired woman she had not seen before. The woman was tired from her walk up the stairs; her right leg ached, she left the champagne and went back downstairs.

They sat and sipped their champagne, and after a time, Mary spoke to April, "Now that I have met you, I have accomplished all that I wanted when I came here. I had heard of you and I wanted to meet you. You will have a great influence on Martin. In the morning I will talk with Martin and then leave. It has been a true pleasure to meet you, April of Sarasota. Enjoy the rest of your evening." With that she rose and left the room.

April stayed, reviewing the words and the feelings with the hope of understanding what had happened. She awoke to the dark green of a coniferous forest in the morning sunlight.

Martin was not at the breakfast table when April sat down that morning. He was walking along the trail with Mary. They spoke little as they walked. He had asked questions, she had evaded answering. It was often that way between them. Mary planned and schemed constantly. Martin took each day as it came to him except when necessary.

Ahead on the trail he spied his favorite mushroom, Amanita ceasarea. The beautiful and delicious sister of the equally beautiful but deadly Amanita verna. Because of this similarity, Caesar's amanita was a dangerous mushroom to eat. Its sister, the death cap, could be pale yellow like some A. ceasarea, but Martin was an expert, these would make a wonderful meal. He and Mary came to a stop but something was wrong.

He roughly tackled her and both of them hit the ground behind one of the large trees as bullets from an automatic weapon stitched the ground where they had just been. Martin was struck in the right lower leg, instantly shattering bones in his leg. Mary hit the ground hard and was stunned for a moment. When she looked around, Martin had two pistols out, one was pointed at her. She immediately presented her right hand forward as Martin shifted the weapon and made contact while looking for the attackers. No further shots were fired.

"I had nothing to do with this attack. I want you alive and well," she said.

"I had nothing to do with this attack. I know of no reason for me to wish ill for you."

She snatched her hand away and withdrew a pistol from the purse her left hand had been opening. Martin set his .25 caliber Berretta down and pulled out his phone.

"Security."

"Tommy, Mary and I are under attack with automatic weapons. We are 2.4 kilometers down the green trail."

"A team is on the way. I suggest that you make your way south, downhill, to the blue trail."

"We can't. I'm hit and can't walk. I'll be all right but I am definitely non-ambulatory. Send four guards to protect April."

"They are already on the way. How many shooters are there?"

"Tommy, we only heard one."

"What is Ms. Mary's condition?"

"Unharmed, and she is armed."

"Sir, Howard is leading the team with an ETA of three minutes."

Martin closed the phone. His eyes swept his line of sight, and his mind listened for any thoughts.

"Do you need me to tend to your wound?" Mary asked.

"Yes, in a minute. We're going to have to stay here, and I don't know if the shooter has fled or will try again, or even how many are involved. I am relieved that your touch revealed that you are very concerned for April's safety."

"Let's not talk about that now. I don't feel like any more attacks are imminent, but I will be ready. Once you are back at the house, safe, I plan to leave when it is clear. Do you want me to take April and keep her until you find out why someone wants you dead?" Mary didn't want to take April from Martin, and didn't think he would relinquish her, but she needed to ask to avoid suspicion.

"No. It may be that they want you dead, not me."

Southward from the tree behind which they sheltered was a small dell, no more than 5 meters away. If they could reach it, it would afford a very short line of sight to their attacker, he would lose the advantage the rifle gave him.

"Let's move over there, cover me," Martin pointed as he made his way using his arms and good leg in a crawl through the bushes.

Mary emptied two clips in the time it took him to reach the dell. He slid into what was good defensive position. A short line of sight took away the advantage that the rifle had afforded their attacker. A moment after sliding into the dell, Martin's head appeared and he nodded to Mary. She was in the hole quickly, before he could empty both his pistols. He ejected the clips and replaced them with full clips, putting the nearly empty clips into his pocket. They both dropped down into the hole and listened for thoughts of their attacker.

"What if he is one of us?" Mary asked.

"Then he is gone. Without surprise and without long line of sight he has no advantage. He has an automatic weapon but there are two of us. Even odds are not inviting."

Mary slipped off her sweater, removed her cotton oxford shirt, and ripped her shirt into a compress and bandage for Martin's wound. She used a stick to stabilize the leg. She put her sweater on top of him. His leg was bad, he might not be conscious much longer. In less than five minutes after the first shots were fired, Martin's armored car came roaring down the trail. The bark covered path was only a meter wide but it ran down the middle of an old logging road. Martin set down his Berretta and used his phone.

"Security."

"Howard, you're almost here, slow down." A moment later, "Okay, stop, we're 15 meters south of you. The shots came from the north. None fired since the first burst."

The south side doors of the car opened and five men wearing body armor and armed with M-16s quickly exited. Two used the car for concealment, aiming their weapons north. Two dropped prone, with one pointing his weapon east and the other pointing to the west. Another car could be heard approaching. Howard ran south towards his principal.

"Mr. Martin, I am approaching you from directly north." Ahead Howard saw a man's hand holding a pistol pointed straight up. He ran towards the hand and jumped into the hole.

He moved over the woman, making sure that he was between her and Mr. Martin. "Sir, how do I treat Ms. Mary?" His pistol was not quite pointed at her.

"As a principle."

"Do you know how to use an M-16?" Howard asked her.

"I'm an expert."

"Please cover the south approach." He handed the rifle to her and turned to look at Martin. "Are you sure that you were only hit once?"

"Yes and once is quite enough." As he assessed Martin's condition, Howard's thoughts were full of anger and guilt. He had not done his job. The principal had been injured and could have been killed. He should have had more roaming guards. He should have insisted that guards always accompany Mr. Martin. He would find the bastard that shot Mr. Martin and kill him, and then maybe he should find a replacement and resign. The thoughts were as painful to Howard as his wounds were to Martin.

"Howard," Martin snapped. "You can't completely protect me. Put your thoughts to getting Mary and me home safely and then to April's safety. Worry about the rest later."

"Yes sir."

Two more men joined them as Howard put a better splint on Martin's leg. They had brought two extra sets of armor and helmets. Mary put on one suit while they dressed Martin in the other. "We've put people into the woods but we are going to move you quickly and it will hurt. Should I give you some morphine?" Howard asked.

"Not until I am sure that April is safe."

"Ms. Mary, you'll be the second person into the car, after Mr. Martin." Howard prepared them and then announced, "Let's do it."

The move to the car was uneventful but painful. Martin was able to reduce the pain to a manageable level, but it wasn't ideal since he was distracted with the situation and planning. The drive home was torture. Martin remembered the first time he had been badly shot in 1681, and the surgeon had wanted to cut off his arm. God how that gun shot had hurt. All of the times he had been shot and stabbed were coming back to him and none of them good. At least he was maintaining consciousness. How much more pain did the young ones feel; those who didn't heal well. That feeling in your gut when you know you will never be the same. At least he knew that he would heal completely within six months. The young ones lived such short sad lives. Maybe that was the key to their success. Constant pain made them either give up or strive for greatness. When they arrived at the house, April was safe and morphine was a blessed relief. On the way to the hospital, Martin's morphine dreams were pleasant, of centuries past.

Howard and the other guards removed their body armor on the way to the hospital. Mary changed into clothes April placed in the second car. April stayed at the house with her female bodyguards. They left the automatic weapons in the car as they carried Martin into the emergency room, one guard with the weapons. Martin's doctor was waiting, as was his attorney, whose office was in a building near by. Mary stayed with Martin. She had called her staff and they would be arriving early this afternoon. She should be safe. He needed surgery and under the influence of the drugs, he was in no condition to put the pieces together even if April arrived. Howard called the police to report the shooting.