Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk

THE CURSE OF THE OBELISK 77
CHAPTER 19
The main square in Kaltzonburg was filled with morning mist. The Great Lorenzo slackened
his pace and then stopped in front of a frail old woman who was vending violets. "A moment,
Harry," he said. "Be so kind as to give me a bunch of your very best blossoms, dear lady." He
pulled a gold coin from behind his ear, handing it to her.
"Why, you must be the Great Lorenzo." She accepted the money and gave him the flowers.
"Ah, little mother, you've seen and enjoyed my magical extravaganza?"
"I fear I can't afford it, sir. But I saw your portrait, which hardly does you justice, in the
newspaper only yesterday."
He upended the bunch of violets, shook them. Two tickets fell into his palm. "Here are a couple
of free passes."
"God bless you, sir."
Taking hold of Harry's arm, the magician resumed their walk. "I never get over the gratification
that fame brings."
"Did I notice greasepaint on that sweet old grandmother's face?"
"She is not a shill, my boy."
"Good, because I'm already impressed by your many abilities. No need to hire a—"
"Here I brighten the poor old wretch's otherwise drab existence by giving her a choice pair of
seats in the second balcony and you suggest that—"
"There's Inspector Swann."
The French policeman was seated at a bench and facing one of the tables set out for chess and
checker players. "Good morning, monsieurs," he said. "Thanks to your communication of last
evening, Harry, I was able to alert the Kaltzonburg police and we raided Zaytoon's castle."
"What about Jean-Pierre Pastoral and the rest of your men who were on the train?" Harry seated
himself on the opponent bench.
"All alive and being kept prisoner in the castle."
"We didn't have time, or the forces, to rescue them all last night."
"One quite understands." Reaching into his breast pocket, he brought out several sheets of
folded paper. "First I . . . Ah, very impressive, M. Lorenzo."
"Hmm? Oh, the stogie." The magician, leaning against the back of Harry's bench, had picked a
lighted cigar out of his handful of violets. "Care for a smoke?"
"Not at the moment." Swann spread a page of pale grey paper out on the inlaid checkerboard.
"This Bertie Pennoyer we found exactly where you told us he would be. He is being held on a
number of charges, including kidnapping and train hijacking. Of Mile. Naida Strand there was no
trace. Nor did we find the remains of Anwar Zaytoon."
Harry said, "What was left of him was right beside the bed. In the same room with the damn
coffin."