The Matarese Circle - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,101

a remembrance of their sin, yet blinded by God so never to reveal their grave in the forests. I am the blind whore of Villa Matarese, permitted to live because they are afraid to take the life of God's reminder." Taleniekov spoke from the other side of the stove. "But you said a while ago that they would not hesitate to kill you if you told the story.

Perhaps if they were even aware that you knew it. Yet now you tell it to us, and imply that you want us to bring it out of Corsica. Why?" "Did not a man in your own country call for you and tell you things he wanted you to know?" The Russian began to reply; Sophia Pastorine interrupted. "Yes, signore. As that man, the end of my life draws near; with each breath I know it. Death, it seems, invites those of us who know some part of the Matarese to speak of it. I'm not sure I can tell you why, but for me, there was a sign. My granddaughter traveled down to the hills and came back with news of a scholar seeking information about the padrone. You were my sign. I sent her back to find you.~, "Does she knowT' asked Bray. "Have you ever told her? She could have brought the story out." "Neverl She is known in the hills, but she is not of the hillsl She would be hunted down wherever she went. She would be killed. I asked for your word, signori, and you must give it to me. You must have nothing further to do with herl" "You have it," agreed Taleniekov. "She's not in this room because of us." "What did you hope to accomplish by speaking to my associate?" asked Bray.

"What his friend hoped for, I think. To make men look beneath the waves, to the dark waters below. It is there that the power to move the sea is found." "Ibe Council of the Matarese," said the KGB man, staring at the blind eyes.

"Yes.... I told you. I Usten to the broadcasts from Rome and Genoa and Nice. It is happening everywhere. Ile prophecies of Guillaume de Matarese are coming true. It does not take an educated person to see that. For years I listened to the broadcasts and wondered. Could it be so? Was it possible they survive still? Then one night many days ago I heard the words and it was as though time had no meaning. I was suddenly back in the shadows of the balcony in the great hall, the gunfire and the screams of horror echoing in my ears. I was there, with my eyes before God took them from me, watching the terrible scene below. And I was remembering what the padrone had said moments before: 'You and yours will do what I can no longer do.' " The old woman stopped, her blind eyes swimming, then began again, her sentences rushed in fear.

"It was truel 71ey had survived-not the councff as it was then, but as it is today. 'You and yours.' The yours had survivedl Led by the one man whose voice was crueler than the wind." Sophia Pastorine abruptly stopped again, her frail, delicate hands grasping for the wooden arm of her chair. She stood up and with her left hand reached for her cane by the edge of the stove.

"The list. You must have it, signoril I took it out of a blood-soaked gown seventy years ago after crawling out of the grave in the mountains. It had stayed next to my body through the terror. I had carried it with me so I would not forget their names and their titles, to make my padrone proud of me." The old woman tapped the cane In front of her as she walked across the room to a primitive shelf on the wall. Her right hand felt the edge, her fingers hesitantly dancing among the various jars until she found the one she wanted. She removed the clay top, reached inside, and pulled out a scrap of soiled paper, yellow with age. She turned. "It is yours. Names from the past. This is the list of honored guests who journeyed in secrecy to Villa Matarese on the fourth of April, in the year nineteen hundred and eleven. If by giving it to you I do a terrible thing, may God have mercy on my soul." Scofield and Taleniekov were on their feet "You