Chapter Nine
Nine
Dane is up, showered, shaved, and dressed before I wake. I sit up blinking in the wan morning light, smelling the steam from his shower and the piney scent of shaving cream.
“I have room service coming up,” he says as I climb out of bed. His eyes flit down, fast, at my T-shirt. It only comes to the top of my thighs, but before I can do anything about it, his gaze comes back to mine. “Then we need to get to the cathedral. I don’t want any surprises there.”
“Okay.” I rummage through my feelings to see how today’s looking, and I’m surprised to find that I’m anticipating whatever awaits us at the fountain.
I take a fast shower and pull on my new jeans and one of the new blouses. I pull my hair into a loose ponytail. In the room, breakfast has arrived in the form of two coffees in to-go cups and pastries on a small tray.
“Eat and walk?” he asks. “Or…I should have asked if you’re one of those people who needs a sit-down thing.”
“No,” I say, grabbing one of the coffees and prying off the lid to inspect the cream-and-sugar situation. I doctor it up with the supplies that came with it.
“Here’s how it’ll go today,” Dane says, picking up his own coffee.
He’s wearing the blue shirt I picked out.
It highlights the broad muscles of his chest and shoulders.
I ignore the way my brain helpfully says, You slept next to that all night.
“It’s going to be crowded, and that’s both good and bad.
Good because a lot of people means we can disappear fairly easily when we’ve got the egg.
Bad because obviously people will see us grab the egg. ”
“Okay,” I breathe. I slide on my shoes and grab my little day bag. Coffee and pastry in hand, we make our way down to the hotel lobby and out into a stunningly clear day.
“You’re going to climb up on the fountain and retrieve it,” Dane continues. “I’ll keep watch and clear your path so you can get down and we can get out of there.”
I picture sneaking around the fountain and reaching up. I’ll grab the egg when no one is looking. “You’ll create a diversion while I’m in the fountain?”
“If needed.” He grabs my elbow as we cross the street to the Portal de l’àngel, swerving us out of the way of a buzzing moped.
“It will depend on how many people are there. Plans may change in the moment. And keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they’re watching you.
We can meet back at the hotel if we get separated. ”
“And the puzzle’s inside this egg?” I ask.
“We don’t know for sure, but I believe so.”
If the kickoff puzzle and the one in the guidebook are any indication, then the puzzle will be a cipher, likely on paper.
I reach in my pack for my little notebook and wish we had discussed all this last night.
I’d feel less rushed about the plan, if nothing else.
My hands are full of my coffee and pastry, and without saying anything or slowing our stride, Dane takes my coffee and pastry so I can dig into my bag.
I retrieve the notebook and jot down a line as we walk, looking up every few steps so I don’t trip.
I rewrite the line and tear out the strip of paper and put it in my pocket.
I tuck everything away, and Dane hands me my breakfast again.
It’s a smooth, coordinated dance that I’d admire if I weren’t so nervous about what I have to do.
We double back on several streets in order to throw anyone off who might be tailing us.
Dane seems satisfied that we’re not being followed, but I notice a man in a Barcelona football shirt eyeing us, and I tug at Dane.
I pull us away from the main street and down an incredibly narrow side street that’s bathed in shadows.
By the time the street widens, there’s no sign of the man in the Barca shirt.
“Good call,” Dane says as we cross into the cathedral’s wide plaza, where the buildings behind us are classical but the ones surrounding the cathedral are rough-brick Gothic.
The cathedral looms tall with its sharp arches and spires.
It’s still early although it seems busier than yesterday, probably because of the festival.
There’s a sense of activity and preparation that wasn’t present the day before.
Inside the cathedral, we move quickly along the nave outside to the cloister.
There are more people here today too, filling the walkway around the garden that fences in the geese, who seem to sense the importance of the day by honking loudly, the shrill calls echoing against the Gothic columns.
Dane discreetly tests two heavy iron-bolted doors across from the fountain’s courtyard to make sure they open and says, “This will be our exit.”
We round the corner to the fenced fountain to find a small crowd of people already there, and I see why.
I inhale a breath of pleasure at the sight.
The small space has been transformed into a floral vision with tall arches of greenery studded with yellow and white carnations swooping over the fountain.
Garlands of green hang between the arches, but the real sight is the fountain itself.
Each level of the fountain has been covered in lush pink and red carnations.
Sprays of baby’s breath and fern fronds fill the spaces in between, along with plump green Easter lily buds.
From the top of the fountain, a single jet of water sprays upward, and atop it an egg bobs and twirls, “dancing” in the force of the spray.
Children squeal in delight and point, while almost every adult has their phone out, recording the sight.
My stomach drops. Climbing onto the fountain is a diabolical task and almost certainly going to get us in trouble; everyone will notice me snatching the precious egg.
I don’t know how I’ll do this without getting caught.
And worse, the gate to the fountain’s courtyard is locked.
I move closer to Dane. “Look at all these people. We can’t just go in there and take that egg.”
He’s studying the iron gate as people pass behind us.
He pulls out a small metal pick from his pocket—which, okay, he just happens to be carrying around lockpicking tools—and, after darting a look around to make sure no one else is too close, inserts it into the gate’s lock.
“You go in, climb up, and grab the egg. I’ll cause a distraction. ”
“There is no level of distraction that will hide me taking that egg, Dane, unless you plan to blow up the high altar.”
He turns from the gate’s lock to me. “I’m going to have this gate open in two seconds.”
I bite my lip and look again at the transformed fountain.
Yellow lilies and purple irises cover the base level of the fountain, smothering the gargoyles.
Someone, probably a whole team of people, put so much effort into it.
They were probably here all night installing and setting the blooms just so.
“Hey.” Dane places a hand on my upper arm. “We can do this another way.”
“There’s no time to do it differently,” I say. “We’re here. We need that egg.”
“I mean it.” His hand flexes on my skin. “You can walk away. I’ll do this. I’ll go in there, and you can walk out of the cathedral right now. I’ll have Araceli get you a plane ticket home.”
“Um, yes, and I’ll get deleted.” He says nothing to that, and while I appreciate he’s trying to be nice, I add, “I chose to play, Dane. I accept the consequences.” I wasn’t sure I fully appreciated the consequences, not really, but we’re here and I’m not going to walk away and leave all this to him. “I’m doing it.”
His expression doesn’t change, but for a flash of a moment there may be the merest hint of approval. “Gate’s open. We’ll exit out of that side door over there so we don’t have to go back through the nave.”
He gives the gate the barest push. He looks at me pointedly, and I slip inside.
Before anyone around us can murmur surprise, I’m at the fountain.
I don’t let myself pause, or I know I’ll talk myself out of it, so I grab the base and clamber up, cringing as the flowers flatten under my hands.
At first I’m on the edges, smashing the thick carnations, but I quickly realize I have to get into the water of the lower bowl if I want to reach the top.
With a sinking feeling, I haul myself over the lip, obliterating a whole section of flowers, and splash into the water just as the first shouts of the spectators start. I’m immediately soaked to my calves.
“Oh God,” I whimper as my hands sink into the soft, fresh blooms of the next level. The yelling is increasing, and a small section of flowers falls off the third level as I hoist myself up. One left to go and I feel absolutely horrible doing this. My shoes squelch in the fountain water.
Dane is shouting something at the gate in Spanish, waving his hands at the gathering crowd.
His back is to me, so I know this must be the distraction, but it’s a terrible one because it’s only drawing more attention.
People surge at the gate, gawking at me.
I look up at the top level of the fountain, at the egg.
The level I’m on is the thickest with blooms, and they’re held on with florist’s wire.
I know that if I hesitate, I’ll never go through with it.
I take a deep breath. I hoist my leg up, really digging my knee into the flowers, mashing them flat, and then I’m up on the base.
My knees sink into the water here, my jeans heavy and deeply unpleasant. I hear Dane yelling “Get back!”