“Géza shook his head. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘He bit you.’ He took a step back from Ranov. ‘And I was alone with that little man several times. He said he could tell me where we could find the Americans, but he never told me he was -’
“‘Of course he never told you,’ Helen said contemptuously, although I tried to keep her quiet. ‘He wanted to find his master, to follow us to him, not to kill you. You were more useful to him this way. Did he give you our notes?’
“‘Shut up.’ Géza looked inclined to strike her, but I heard the fear and awe in his voice, and I quietly drew her away.
“‘Come.’ Ranov was herding us with his gun again, one hand on his wounded shoulder. ‘You have been of very little assistance. I want you back in Sofia and on a plane as soon as possible. You are lucky we don’t have permission to make you disappear-it would be too inconvenient.’ I thought he was going to kick us as Géza had done to the table leg, but he turned instead and ushered us brusquely out of the library. He made Stoichev walk ahead; I guessed with a pang what the old man must have been through, in the course of this coercive chase. Clearly, Stoichev hadn’t intended for us to be followed; I’d believed that from my first glimpse of the misery in his face. Had he made it back to Sofia before they forced him to turn around and follow us? I hoped Stoichev’s international reputation would protect him from further abuse, as it had in the past. But Ranov-that was the worst of it. Ranov would probably return, infected, to his duties with the secret police. I wondered if Géza would try to do anything about this, but the Hungarian’s face looked so forbidding that I didn’t dare to address him.
“I looked back once, from the doorway, at the princely sarcophagus that had lain here for nearly five hundred years. Its occupant might be anywhere now, or on his way to anywhere. At the top of the steps we crawled one by one through the opening-I prayed none of those guns would go off-and there I saw something very strange. The reliquary of Saint Petko sat open on its pedestal. They must have had some tools, to open it where we had failed. The marble slab underneath was back in place and covered with its embroidered cloth, undisturbed. Helen shot me a blank look. Glancing into the reliquary as we passed it, I saw a few pieces of bone, a polished skull-all that remained of the local martyr.
“Outside the church, in the heavy night, there was a confusion of cars and people-Géza had apparently arrived with an entourage, two of whom were guarding the church doors. Dracula certainly hadn’t escaped that way, I thought. The mountains loomed around us, darker than the dark sky. Some of the villagers had gotten wind of the arrivals and come up with lighted torches; they fell back at Ranov’s approach, staring at his torn and bloody jacket, their faces strained in the uneven light. Stoichev caught my arm; his face bobbed near my ear. ‘We closed it,’ he whispered.
“‘What?’ I bent to listen to him.
“‘The monk and I went down first, into the crypt, while those-those thugs searched the church and the woods for you. We saw the man in the grave-not Dracula-and I knew you had been there. So we closed it up and when they came down they opened the reliquary only. They were so angry then that I thought they would throw out the poor saint’s bones.’ Brother Ivan looked sturdy enough, I thought, but Professor Stoichev’s frailty must conceal a rare strength. Stoichev looked sharply at me. ‘But who was that in the grave underneath, if it was not -?’
“‘It was Professor Rossi,’ I whispered. Ranov was opening car doors, ordering us in.
“Stoichev gave me a quick, eloquent look. ‘I am so sorry.’”
“That is how we left my dearest friend resting in Bulgaria, may he sleep there in peace until the end of the world.”
Chapter 75
“After our adventure in a crypt, the Boras’ front parlor looked like heaven on earth. It was an exquisite relief to be there again, with cups of hot tea in our hands-the weather had taken a rare cool turn that week, although it was June already-and Turgut smiling at us from the cushions of the divan. Helen had slipped off her shoes at the door to the apartment and put on some tasseled red slippers Mrs. Bora brought her. Selim Aksoy was there, too, sitting quietly in the corner, and Turgut made sure that he and Mrs. Bora got a fair translation of everything.
“‘Are you certain that the tomb was empty?’ Turgut had asked it once already, but seemed unable to refrain from asking again.
“‘Quite sure.’ I glanced at Helen. ‘What we don’t know is whether the noise we heard was the sound of Dracula escaping somehow as we came in. It was probably dark outside by then, and easy for him to move around.’
“‘And he could have changed shape, of course, if the legend is correct.’ Turgut sighed. ‘Damn his eyes! You were very close to catching him, my friends, closer than the Crescent Guard has come in five centuries. I am passing glad you were not killed, but terribly sorry also that you were not able to destroy him.’
“‘Where do you think he went?’ Helen leaned forward, her eyes intensely dark.
“Turgut stroked his big chin. ‘Well, my dear, I cannot guess. He can travel far and fast, but I do not know how far he would go. To another ancient site, I am sure, some hiding place that has been undisturbed for centuries. It must have been a blow for him to leave Sveti Georgi, but he would understand that this site will be guarded now for a long time to come. I would give my right hand to know whether he has remained somewhere in Bulgaria or left the country altogether. Borders and politics do not mean very much to him, I am certain.’ Turgut’s frown was harsh on his kind face.
“‘You do not think he would follow us?’ Helen asked simply, but something in the angle of her shoulders made me think that the very simplicity with which she asked this question cost her an effort.
“Turgut shook his head. ‘I hope not, Madam Professor. I should think he would be a little afraid of you two by now, since you found him when no one else could.’
“Helen was silent, and I didn’t like the doubt in her face. Selim Aksoy and Mrs. Bora watched her with a particular tenderness, too, I thought; maybe they were wondering how I could have allowed her to go into such a dangerous situation in the first place, even if we’d managed to return whole.
“Turgut turned to me. ‘And I am deeply sorry about your friend Rossi. I would have liked to meet him.’
“‘And I know you would have enjoyed each other’s company,’ I said sincerely, taking Helen’s hand. Her eyes filled whenever Rossi’s name came up, and now she looked away, as if for privacy.
“‘I wish I could have met Professor Stoichev, also.’ Turgut sighed again and set his cup down on the brass table before us.
“‘That would have been magnificent,’ I said, smiling at the picture of the two scholars comparing notes. ‘You and Stoichev could have explained the Ottoman Empire and the medieval Balkans to each other. Maybe you will meet someday.’
“Turgut shook his head. ‘I do not think so,’ he said. ‘The barriers between us are as high and-prickly-as they were between anytsar and pasha. But if you ever speak with him again, or write to him, by all means give him my regards.’