| Subject: Chapter 143 |
Author:
Lynuslinus
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Date Posted: Saturday, October 02, 08:40:51pm
In reply to:
Lynuslinus
's message, "Whispered Identities - Chapter 129 and forward" on Sunday, August 22, 06:05:27pm
The dark blue Mercedes containing Michael and Nikita streaked through the night from Narbonne to just outside Perpignan, near the Spanish border. Michael had made the final decision about not attempting the drive across the Pyrenees mountains as the temperature had dropped many degrees and a light snow was now falling. As they approached Perpignan, Nikita turned her attention from the strip of roadway ahead, to Michael as he stared intently at the whitening roadway.
“How are you doing Michael....want me to drive....you look very tired.”
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe we should stay the night at Perpignan, then see if the weather improves....possibly we could still take the route over the Pyrenees.”
“We should continue to the Spanish border....I don’t think the weather will improve.”
“Okay...but....please don’t continue driving if you are tired....promise me?”
“I will let you drive, Nikita....maybe once we cross the border. I had wished to cross the Pyrenees to Bayonne...the contact in Portugal has a contact man there....he might have supplied us with some back-up.”
“Back-up? What are you saying Michael.....is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No, nothing....it would be good to have someone assisting us....people we could trust.”
Nikita watched Michael closely. There was something he was not telling her....trying to protect her....attempting to dispel any fears she might have.
“Michael, please don’t lie to me....if we are in this together, I need to know about possible dangers.”
“I’m not lying to you about anything....I just have an uncomfortable feeling about entering this part of Spain...it is based on nothing Nikita....just an irrational .....well, feeling.”
“Well, then...turn around and let’s attempt crossing the Pyrenees. Go with your instincts Michael....I always have...not that I’ve always been successful following my gut feelings.”
“No...we will continue to the Costa Brava coast.....stay at some nice pension on the ocean, north of Barcelona.”
“Fine...it’s your call...but Michael....please be honest with me....if there are possible immediate dangers ahead, I need to know.....don’t feel you must protect me all the time.”
Michael looked over at Nikita and suppressed a smile. “You are starting to read me....like that proverbial book.”
Nikita reached over and stroked Michael’s cheek with the back of her hand; he removed one hand from the wheel and took hold of her fingers and kissed them.
The border crossing between France and Spain presented no difficulties for the couple; the Spanish border official sat dozing in his kiosk and after giving a brief perusal of their passports, waved them through. As they headed south along the Costa Brava coast, the light snow turned to a sleeting rain. Nikita turned on the overhead light and scanned a map and a tourist hotel directory.
“There’s lot of small tourist spots on the coast Michael....anyone in particular you want to stay at?”
“Maybe Tossa de Mar....I believe there is a quiet hotel right on the beach...ahhh...maybe called the Delphin?”
“Yes, there’s one here with that name....so Michael...have you stayed in that hotel before....seems like you’ve tested out most of the hotels on the French Riviera and now Spain,” she grinned.
“I’ve heard the view of the ocean is excellent and also they have a good restaurant.”
“Okaaayyyy......no personal intel forthcoming on that one. Well, sounds good to me....only another thirty kilometers, then turn east...but then....you probably know the way,” she smiled.
Michael drove the Mercedes into Tossa de Mar and turned left at the end of the village for the small hotel Delphin. Parking the vehicle in the hotel’s small parking garage, Michael suggested they only take in the computer and personal overnight bags. After settling into a room facing the sea, Nikita picked up a menu for the hotel’s restaurant.
“Maybe we should eat Michael....seeing you know about the great restaurant,” she smirked.
“Yes, good idea....then we need to get some rest....we should try to make it all the way to Portugal tomorrow.”
Michael and Nikita sat in the tiny hotel restaurant - the only guests. The one waiter, aroused from a nap in the corner, was now busily darting about the couple, pouring white wine into large goblets as Michael and Nikita read the menus.
“Hummm...lots of wonderful seafood Michael....I think I’m going to have the arroz negro...what about you.”
Michael was staring off into the distance....his mind somewhere else. “Ahhh...sorry, yes....that sounds fine....I’ll have the same.”
“You sure?”
“Yes...yes of course,” he looked up at the waiter. “I’ll have the same as my companion.”
The waiter smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. Nikita reached for Michael’s hand and grinned. “You have no idea what I just ordered, do you?”
“Well.....I....I trust your choice,” he glanced over at the kitchen. “Alright...what is it...I didn’t read the menu.”
“Arroz negro is squid cooked in its own ink with rice, peas, red peppers, garlic and onion,” smiled Nikita.
“Ahhhh....that sounds....fine.”
“I could ask the chef to add extra ink to yours if you like....personally, I prefer mine drowning in ink....swimming as a matter of fact....but since.....”
“Yes, okay....I am certain your choice will be fine...you love teasing me don’t you Nikita?”
“Have to find some humor in this mad journey across Europe Michael.”
They sat hold hands across the table and slowly sipping their wine. Presently the waiter brought a plate with Pa amb oli, olive oil drizzled bread, rubbed with tomato and garlic. They sat in silence; Michael ripped off a small piece of the bread and reached over for Nikita to take the chunk in her mouth; she did likewise. They continued to feed each other while sipping their wine until the waiter arrived with the arroz negro. Michael leaned over and sniffed his plate; Nikita grinned.
“Bon apetite monsieur Samuelle....looks like they held back on the extra squid ink,” she grinned.
“Yes.... bon apetite....ma chere....de toute une vie. (Bon apetite, my love, to a long life.)
Nikita understood Michael’s french and sat staring into his eyes; Michael reached over, grasped her hand, and kissed it.
“We will have a long life together Nikita....it is meant to be,” whispered Michael.
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