Chapter 13 #2
it to Aida when she was growing up. She used it often to take notes, particularly when she was doing interviews for her research.
“I keep a list of all the jobs I’ve been on.”
She took the notebook back from her friend and looked over the page. Her confusion grew as she scanned the list. At least
three dozen locations were written down, some of which she remembered, but far more she did not. She looked for Piazza Mattei,
and sure enough, she had cataloged the fountain and the piazza shortly after she had moved permanently to Rome.
“I walk through that piazza every single day. Why is it so hard for me to remember that fountain?” Felix said after Aida had confirmed her suspicion. “Or for you to do so, for that matter. I mean, you practically live next door and you studied it.”
“Why would they have removed it?” Aida asked. “Why can’t I remember most of the places on my list?”
Neither of them had an answer.
The first location listed seemed especially baffling. “There was a Goethe museum in Rome?”
Felix raised an eyebrow at her. “There was? Are you sure about that? It seems odd there would be a museum here for a German
writer.”
The date next to the name was a few weeks after Aida had begun working for MODA. She wracked her brain, trying to remember
what she had done when she first came to Rome. She could picture herself moving into the palazzo, meeting the staff, and all
of Trista’s weirdness, but now that she looked back, there was no recollection of her first assignment. She vaguely recalled
making recordings on the tape recorder, and that she and Trista had trudged across town for a few jobs, but she couldn’t recall
much more. She’d never had memory issues before . . . What on earth was happening?
Aida took her phone back out and looked back through her calendar. All the days before the last six months were blank. Her
stomach churning, she hastily powered down the phone and returned to the list in her portfolio.
Most of the locations and items were unfamiliar, but she could still recall some of them. And as the dates became more recent,
the more Aida’s memory seemed to fill in the gaps. “Dear god. I think I understand. The locations are disappearing.” She found
a pen in her bag and added an explanation at the top of the list about locations disappearing so the next time she looked
at it she would remember. “But why are we forgetting about them?”
“I need a drink.” Felix nudged her toward the door. “I ordered us sushi while I was waiting for you.” He led her through his
apartment to the interior courtyard of the building and his little patio. She followed, her mind clouded by their discovery.
Felix deposited a bottle of wine on the table before them.
“There must be some sort of explanation,” Felix said as he poured the wine.
“Do you remember any of these?” Aida read the list to him, including the dates she’d visited the locations.
He listened intently, his lips pursing as he concentrated. “Some of them. The most recent. Some of the others seem like they should be familiar, but I can’t really pull any information out of this poor broken head of mine. Like this one,
the Palio di Siena horse race. I feel like I should know what that is. I’ve been to Siena many times—my cousin lives there.
I used to go there every July when I was young. But I don’t remember anything about a horse race.”
The food arrived and they tucked in. In between mouthfuls of maki, they tried to remember other locations on Aida’s list.
Felix searched Google for some of the names and came up with either scant information or entries that were very old, highlighting
the history of a location or item that no longer seemed to exist.
Aida had an idea. “Do you keep records of all the tours you give?”
Felix nodded. “Of course.”
“Even the ones you do for MODA? The tours you took Johannes on?”
Felix lit up. “Yes! I do. Especially for MODA. I have to do a lot of research before each visit, and I keep fairly extensive
records of all the details.” He was already scrolling through his phone.
Aida sipped at her wine while he searched for the information. Finally, he looked up. “This is fucked up. There are a bunch
of folders in my digital storage, but nothing in them.” He scrolled through his phone a little more. “It’s only the ones related
to MODA. The folders are still there, but they’re empty—like someone wiped the contents but left the shell behind.” He frowned
at the screen. “Some still have names but reading them feels . . . off. It’s the same feeling as when I try to think about
the Palio di Siena. I know I worked on these, but I couldn’t tell you a single thing about them.”
“Tell me the names, and I’ll add them to my list. At least my records seem to be staying intact. I wonder why though. If your files are vanishing, why isn’t my list?”
Together, they went through Felix’s folder names. None of them rang a bell for Aida. As he read them aloud—Pantheon Fountain,
Barcaccia, Trajan’s Column—his expression tightened. He pressed his fingers to his temple, eyes narrowing as if trying to
pull something from the depths of his mind.
“I feel like I should know these,” he muttered. “Like I can almost see them, but—” He shook his head. “It’s like grabbing
at smoke.”
They Googled a few. Most came up empty. Trajan’s Column had results, but it was long closed after a terrorist attack had toppled
the ancient monument four years ago.
“All of them . . . gone.”
“I don’t like this,” Felix said.
“What on earth could be happening?” Aida whispered. A chill ran down her spine.
“We’ve talked about this before, I think.” His brow was furrowed in thought. “About things you’ve researched closing. Like
the earthquake in Val d’Orcia that destroyed the church.”
“Oh, yes, we did talk about that.” Aida could easily recall the little chiesa and its Madonna over the altar, as well as the conversation she’d had with Mo there. “Why can I remember that but not these
other things? None of this makes sense.”
“Can you ask Trista? No, maybe that’s a bad idea.”
“I don’t think she would be helpful. But wait, maybe I know someone who might be.” She reached for her phone and found the
Signal app. She dashed off a quick note to Luciano.
A few moments later, her phone buzzed with a call. Her heart skipped a beat when his face appeared on her screen. “Ciao, Aida! Come stai?”
Felix gave her a sly grin. Aida hadn’t told him about Luciano, but she knew Felix would get the story out of her as soon as she ended the call.
She explained their findings to Luciano. “I don’t know if this is just some anomaly. But so many locations I’ve cataloged
have disappeared . . . or been destroyed like the chiesa in Val d’Orcia. Has that happened to any of the places you’ve researched?”
His jaw dropped, and he gazed off toward a spot near his feet, lost in thought. “Yes, yes . . .” he muttered, then turned
his attention back to the screen. “France has its own share of earthquakes. I’m sure you’ve heard about the one that destroyed
half of Carcassonne three months ago. Then, of course, there was the fire in Notre-Dame this spring. And the Luxor Obelisk
at Place de la Concorde. I researched it before it was toppled and destroyed during the first days of the Liberté Révolte
protests. But smaller locations . . . I’m not sure.”
“Think back to your first assignment when you became a Collector,” she said. “What was it?”
His brow knotted. “I, uh . . .” There was an uncomfortable pause as he stared back at the ground, trying to recall.
Aida let out the breath she had been holding. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“I don’t. This doesn’t make sense. I have an excellent memory.” He gritted his teeth.
“When we met, you told me about a few places you had visited. Aix-les-Bains, vineyards in Chateau Margaux, and the Sacré-Coeur
carousel,” Aida pointed out.
Luciano nodded. “Sì, sì, I did. But I researched those locations in just the last few months, so the memory is quite new. But if I try to remember
where I went when I first began working for MODA, that’s harder. Merda! This is very disturbing, Aida. I can’t recall much of what I did in the early part of the job. How can that be? And how haven’t
I noticed it before?”
“Maybe this is why MODA doesn’t want you to keep any records?” Felix mused.
“Who is that?” Luciano asked, his eyes widening with concern.
Aida shot Felix a look. She didn’t know if Luciano would be fine with the idea that she had broken the MODA vow of silence
about their work. Reluctantly, she turned the phone toward Felix, who waved. “I’m Felix!”
Aida turned the phone back toward her. “He’s an old friend who does guided tours in Rome. He got me the job at MODA. And no,
before you ask, he’s not supposed to know any of this. But I trust him. He’s the one that helped me realize some of the places
I’ve researched have disappeared.”
“We should be careful,” Luciano said. His voice held a note of warning. “I think MODA might be capable of dangerous things.”
Aida thought about Johannes and his sudden death. “I know. I think that too.”
They chatted for a few more minutes before saying goodbye. “Aida, stai attenta.” Be careful. The video winked out.
That evening Aida went back through her notebook, digging deep into the shorthand about places she’d researched, including
the Casa di Goethe. She read about her exchange with Mo, which she didn’t remember at all. How could she not recall when she
met him? He was truly unforgettable in every way. Reading the passage was like reading a novel that someone else had written,
not words she herself had recorded.
Her heart skipped a beat when she read her notes about the conversation she had with Ilario and Pippa about the Goethe museum
closing. She couldn’t recall anything about that, but she did have a perfect memory of the details about Johannes suddenly
dying, as well as what Pippa had said before Aida had retired for the night—Always thought there’s summat dodgy goin’ on, like there’s somethin’ rotten in the state of Denmark. Only the details about the museum itself were hazy.
Aida didn’t know what was rotten, but she was fairly sure she had stumbled upon the stench left behind.