reality of the situation is this: he ran off with about twenty million dollars. That's more than enough money to allow someone to disappear and not be found. You just don't have the resources to find him."
Always a man of blunt honesty. "I am sure you are correct. Still, I will not forget about Jenkins."
"Neither will I." Bob snapped his fingers as the waiter passed near our table.
Chapter 2
A Slight Change of Plans
In his fifteen years of service, Bob Johnson's chestnut hair turned silver. The flesh covering his ample frame grew thicker. Had circumstances been different, I would have been able to watch his humanity come crashing down upon him, stooping his back forward, breaking his limbs, as organs, one by one, ceased to function. I would have had the singular privilege of watching him die.
However, circumstances were such that, after following him toMadison , where he made certain arrangements as per my instructions, it would come time to discharge him.
Bob caught the first available flight to the States. By the time a flight suiting my peculiar needs allowed me to join him, Bob had already found me a place to live, paid one year's rent in advance and purchased an inexpensive automobile for my use.
Though ships have always rendered me quite queasy, air travel has never been a bother. Of the alchemist's four basic elements, my closet affinity has always been with air and earth. Air is rather close to my true nature, certainly in a figurative sense. Earth binds me and my kind and has always been a force for birth and healing. Fire and water, however, are destructive elements, ripping and tearing us asunder.
Even Transatlantic flights may be completed with few complications, so long as the flight leaves in darkness and arrives before the dawn, not a difficult matter considering the seven-hour time difference, thus allowing me to actually sit within the cabin as opposed to being sealed within a lead canister, a most distasteful prospect indeed.
A favorite tome accompanied me on the flight,The Twelve Caesars , the superb Robert Graves translation of the immensely entertaining history by Seutonius. Entertaining, yes, but an intentional choice for informational purposes; for the better part of this century, the parallels between imperialRome and theseUnited States of America have struck me as quite uncanny. Though much of my time over the last century had been spent inAmerica , my experience with the provinces was quite limited.New York ,Los Angeles ,Paris ,London ,Rome ,Berlin ,Prague ,Budapest - these were my cities.Madison,Wisconsin ? Would the citizenry be ignorant peasants? Would cows sleep within houses with their human hosts?
However, despite my fondness for Mr. Graves's flowing hand and the highly personalized accounts provided by Seutonius, the volume spent most of the flight in my lap unread as I sat, musing about my predicament, eyes closed, unable to concentrate on the pages.
Was I to suffer the slings and arrows of despondency, spending most my nights in a sterile laboratory monitoring someone else's experiment when my preference would be to attend the opera or the symphony in a city possessing some semblance of culture?
A darkened forest filled my sight. Musk drifted into my nostrils, the rich aroma washing over my entire being. A large, strong heart beat loudly. Torrents of steaming blood filled my mouth faster than could be gulped down my throat. Twin rivulets dribbled down the sides of my jaw.
Daylight comes, and my bed is hard and earthen, full of twigs and stones.
Daylight comes, and my bed is a soft feather mattress, with a down quilt and silk sheets.
Choices must always be made: to live within the world of the humans or attempt concealment behind the shadows cast by their edifices. Except, the shadows have been obscured by the harsh, scrutinizing glare of ubiquitous humanity. In order to survive, I must hide in plain sight, just like Poe's purloined letter.
Paris,London ,Berlin ,Prague ,Budapest ,New York ,Los Angeles - evenChicago . The plane landed atChicago 's hectic O'Hare airport where we switched planes for the short flight toMadison .
My sole experience with the American hinterlands had beenChicago , a city possessing a rare mix of cosmopolitan flare and provincial ignorance. ButMadison,Wisconsin ? Every day, as many people arrive and depart from O'Hare airport as live inMadison .
After a 45 minute flight, the plane touched down inMadison , with a few, but very few city lights heralding our arrival.
Perhaps this city was more civilized than I had imagined. There were no cows wandering around this small