Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,55

at her and how in her sleep she was searching for the blanket because she was cold lying there on her back. She pulled one of the large, white comforters over her, again disappearing out of his field of vision. The tears were running from Eric’s eyes without his realizing it. Soundlessly he got up. It was a little more than two weeks since he’d seen her last. But tonight, after he’d put the Death List back in its crumpled envelope, he was compelled to come here instead of to Yiala’s Arch. Compelled to see her, to carefully stroke her forehead in her sleep.

He had intended to sneak out of the bedroom and let it be fine like that, but he wasn’t able to. Not just now. He stood up, taking a few steps over toward the bed. She turned her head, and her whiskers twitched from the dream she was having. It was strange, he thought, that he dared to love someone like this. Again. To make yourself so defenseless, to risk being wounded so terribly. Again. After everything that had happened with Teddy.

Eric looked at his sleeping wife and smiled. But she wouldn’t hurt him. And it was this certainty, this self-assured thought that meant that he’d dared. He loved her because she was worthy of being loved, and he, more clearly than anyone else, could see that.

Carefully he sneaked out of the bedroom, avoiding the plank in the floor right next to the threshold, the one that always creaked. He walked quickly through the living room and out into the hall, succeeded in opening and closing the door without the least sound, and only a few moments later he was en route in his gray Volga Combi.

A Death List existed.

It was not drawn up by the Chauffeurs.

And Nicholas Dove was there on the list.

The list consisted of names and dates, that was all. On certain days no one would be picked up, other days there was more than one. Such was the case the twenty-first of May.

That was the day the Chauffeurs would pick Nicholas Dove up.

That was in four days.

But on the twenty-first of May there had been one more name. Yet another stuffed animal would be taken away from this life in four days.

Teddy Bear.

CHAPTER 16

May I go home now?”

Snake Marek sounded hopeful.

Eric Bear was sitting on a barstool at a minimal bar counter; Snake found himself on the same counter. All the Springergaast boutiques nowadays boasted this kind of bar, situated in the midst of an explosion of colorful boutique furnishings and advertising posters which some advertising-agency genius—perhaps employed at Wolle & Wolle—maintained stimulated sales. The bear and the snake had each ordered a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. Around them packages of cookies and chips, bulk candies, soda pop labels, and even fresh fruit competed for attention. There was an aroma of fresh-ground coffee and baked croissants. Eric had chosen to move the meeting to Springergaast on Carrer Admiral Pedro, a few blocks from Yiala’s Arch, because he wanted to be alone with Snake. And few customers came to this boutique.

“Lay off,” he said.

“I didn’t think so,” sighed Snake with disappointment.

Yesterday evening all their plans had been upset. When Eric saw Teddy’s name on the Death List it was no longer a question of simply saving Emma.

His first reaction was shock. But intuitively Eric realized that he couldn’t show any weak spots with Snake in the room, and therefore he was forced to act as if nothing over and above what was expected was on the list. If Snake hadn’t been there, if Eric had given his feelings free rein? Then he would have fallen apart.

“Have you thought about my request?” asked the bear.

“Which one?”

“Saving someone from a soon-to-be dead man’s death sentence.”

“If you think I’m smart enough to figure out something like that, surely you must realize I’m smart enough to understand what this is all about,” Snake answered with irritation.

Eric shrugged his shoulders.

“Presumably,” he said.

“Dove has threatened your sweet Rabbit. If the Chauffeurs get Dove, his gorillas fetch the rabbit.”

Eric shrugged his shoulders again. This was an acknowledgment.

“And?” he asked. “What do I do?”

“I have no idea,” answered Snake, sounding so uninterested that Eric had a hard time not letting himself be provoked, despite the fact that he understood that this had been the reptile’s intent.

“You could bribe the gorillas, couldn’t you?” suggested the long-tongued Marek.

“Bribe the gorillas?”

“Yes, what the hell do I know?”

“You’ve worked at Casino Monokowski, you’ve