Free Cemetery of Swallows by Mallock;, Steven Rendall Page B

these fabulous panels to Peter the Great of Russia for two hundred and forty-eight elite soldiers he wanted to enroll in his guard. The exchange was made and this fantastic puzzle in amber was transported from Berlin to St. Petersburg. In 1755 a certain Rastrelli was finally able to reconstruct and install the amber cabinet between the green dining room and the great picture gallery in Catherine the Great’s palace at Tsarkoye Selo. But the story doesn’t stop there, Superintendent. In fact, at this point it becomes even more exciting.”
    â€œCabarete”: the sign announcing the city had a radical effect on the driver’s behavior, unless the effect was produced by what he was about to say. Mister Blue turned his tanned face and South Seas blue eyes toward Mallock. He was no longer looking ahead of him, and accordingly the car was now moving very slowly. Behind him, people began to blow their horns, but not excessively. Mister Blue and his pickup were known in these parts.
    â€œTwo centuries later, two German officers who knew about Hitler’s destructive intentions conceived a plan to save this little marvel. With the help of their men they managed, during the invasion of St. Petersburg, to dismantle the whole room and get it out of the country. The rest of the story is a little vague. The panels are supposed to have moved through Prussian palaces before disappearing again. The legend was born. Since then, historians, treasure-hunters, and members of the amber guild have been trying to find out what happened to the panels without ever being able to learn anything further. The location of the amber room is still completely unknown. Unless you listen to certain rumors.”
    â€œWhat rumors?”
    â€œMore about that later!”
    With that, Mister Blue’s car stopped in front of the hotel.
    â€œMany thanks for the ride . . . and for the story,” Mallock said with a smile.
    â€œI’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, and
tómalo suave, ‘commisare.’
” 
    In his penthouse apartment, a crate of mangos and red bananas was waiting for Amédée. After a long, lukewarm shower, he started to fall asleep as he was watching the sun sink into the sea. At the last moment, he asked his mind to give him a clue, a lead, something that would keep Manuel from being given the maximum sentence. But he dreamed only of the clicking of boot heels and rooms covered in amber.

7.
Wednesday, Third Day on the Island
Cabarete-Sosúa, Round-trip
    Mallock’s headache was still with him in the tropics.
It also wanted to know the exoticism of the mangroves and bromeliads, the colorful beaches, the aromas of the jungle and the unfamiliar bamboo. It dreamed of the turquoise transparency of the creeks and the tentacular clumps of polyps. So it had gotten him out of bed around 4 A.M. : “Let’s go for a walk, you big lazybones, I’ll hurt you less,” it had promised him.
    So the superintendent went out into the night to walk on the sand and try to calm his old companion. The earth was still warm from the preceding day’s sun. Amédée looked up at the stars. This time, he recognized the friendly constellation that connected him with his son: the Great Bear. It was there, but upside down, a little sheepish, its neck lying along the horizon. He stretched out on the sand, upside down too, with his head toward the sea. He spoke to Thomas, told him about the beach and the palm trees “that you would have liked so much.” Then he thought of Amélie and closed his eyes, suddenly nauseated by his solitude. Imprisoned in a coma from which she had never returned, she’d been buried with Mallock’s ring and his heart. They spoke to each other, he about the past, she about the future, her Amédée’s future. She told him: “I’m keeping your ring, take back your life.” He ended up saying: “Yes.”
    Â 
    Mallock returned to