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Chapter 26: Dinner With Greg

Nikola watched the light from the candle between her and Greg play on his features and noticed how young he looked. As her mind ran through the list of items she wanted to discuss with him here tonight, she started wondering about his reaction. She still felt as if she knew nothing about him.

On and off for the past few weeks she had had the sensation of being followed, and it returned in force this evening. Instead of studying her menu, she glanced around the restaurant nervously to see if she could recognize anyone. The faces of the people sitting around her seemed generic. She felt as if she could have seen any one of them in the streets over the last few days. She tried to concentrate more on individual features, and, at first, she didn't think she could recognize anyone. Then, on the second pass, she got the impression that one woman's face did look rather familiar. Nikola stared at the woman for a few moments, trying to place her. She tried to think of all the people she had seen for the past few days, but nothing connected. Then she compared the stranger to all the people she could remember meeting since her arrival in the country, but again, there was no match. Finally, she thought the woman looked like someone she vaguely knew at the University, but she couldn't bring her old colleague's face to mind and dismissed the whole thing as her imagination.

The next time she looked around three faces looked familiar, but, once again, she couldn't place them. Every subsequent time she looked up, there were more vaguely familiar faces, until she got to the point where every face in the restaurant seemed somehow familiar. The menu and Greg forgotten, she looked desperately from face to face, each of which she thought she had seen somewhere else before, but only vaguely so, such that she couldn't place any of them. Her glances became more and more frantic and her mind whirled with faces. She felt herself being drawn deeper and deeper into a spiraling state of confusion, until Greg interrupted her.

"Nikki! Nikki, come back!"

She snapped out of the spiral, blinked several times, and finally focused on him. "Greg, you're here."

"Of course I'm here. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Are you ready to order?"

"To order?" Disoriented, she looked down and spotted the open menu sitting before her. "Sure, just give me a minute." 

She stared at the menu intently, as if it were about to release secrets to her, but in reality, she was just trying to focus on the text in front of her to avoid looking up. She was petrified that she would get caught in the spiral again. She was also alarmed that it could happen to her in the first place - she felt as if she was losing control of her mind. It's the stress, she reassured herself.

After a few minutes, she decided upon a dish and put her menu down. "Okay, I'm ready," she said quietly. While Greg summoned a waiter, Nikola glanced around quickly at the other people in the restaurant. She could still sense an air of familiarity in each of them, but kept it subdued. It was impossible to know if she had seen any of them before, she just couldn't remember every face that she saw on a crowded Manhattan street, and she knew that if she concentrated on it too hard they would all jump out at her again. She managed to control her responses and looked away. However, she knew that she had lost any hope of spotting someone who may have been following her. She felt exposed and vulnerable.

After they ordered, Greg asked, "So, what's up?"

Nikola leaned across the table and whispered, "I think I'm being followed."

A look of surprise passed swiftly over Greg's face as he responded with, "Really? What makes you think that?"

"Well, nothing particular, it's just this sense that I have. I feel very watched."

"That could be from a lot of things. Maybe you're just not used to being in a city as crowded as this one."

"I doubt it's that. I've been in cities all over Europe and never felt this way."

"How can you feel followed?"

"I don't know, it just a sensation I have. Like there's someone out there watching my every move."

"Have you ever spotted anyone?"

"No, it's just a sensation."

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."

Nikola didn't like he way he casually dismissed her concern. Intellectually, she knew that she had no solid evidence of it, but that made her all the more adamant. "It's not like this is an isolated thing... Someone broke into my apartment last week, and then there was that note... But I suppose that that could have to do with the gallery..."

"What about the gallery?"

"We think there's something fishy going on there. One of the gallery artists, Marty, died under suspicious circumstances. Eddie and I are trying to investigate it and we thought the note might be a sign for us to back off."

"Oh really?" Greg looked at her sharply, as if analyzing his words, "Have you had any luck with the investigation?"

Nikola looked back at him quizzically, but his face was completely unreadable. She wondered whether she made a mistake mentioning the gallery. His sudden interest seemed out of place, given his nonchalance about her last topic. She remembered that Martha had introduced them, and she really knew little about him beyond what Martha had originally told her. For all she knew, he could be Martha's spy. Nikola shuddered at the thought, but tried her best to hide it. "No, nothing. The whole thing's probably just Eddie's imagination. She does have a very vivid imagination. It all started when Donna refused to believe that Marty would try heroin."

"Who's Donna?"

"Marty's girlfriend. She's an artist in her own right - you may have seen her work, her last name's Fletcher."

"No, I'm not familiar with it. What does heroin have to do with it?"

Nikola had noticed before that Greg was not as up on new Soho talent as would be expected from a New York City arts writer. Donna didn't have a big name, but she had been in enough exhibitions for her name to be recognizable to anyone closely following the New York arts scene for any period of time. However, Greg had said that he was an investigative reporter before. If he switched recently, that could explain it. "Marty died of an overdose, which according to his girlfriend, was totally uncharacteristic of him."

"I see. What have you done to investigate this so far?"

"Nothing really, just talked about it a lot. I was planning to go to Grove. The note was postmarked from there. In fact, I was wondering if you could drive me there."

"Sure. I'm free Thursday and Friday. We can go either day. But why would you get a note from the gallery if you haven't done anything?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's something else entirely. I'm hoping to find out when we go up there."

"Do you have anything in mind?"

"No, not really. Any suggestions?"

"No, not at the moment, but I'll think about it."

"How about the guy following me?"

"You're not even sure there is anyone following you."

"Whether or not you believe me, I'm pretty sure. I've gotten good information from my instincts in the past, so I don't see any reason not to trust them now.," Nikola said defiantly.

"Why would anyone want to follow you?"

"I don't know. Why would anyone want to break into my house and slash my paintings?"

"I've been wondering about that. You said you recognized him. Have you had any more thoughts on that since then?"

"No. I'm beginning to wonder if I really did recognize him after all."

"Have you ever had any experiences like this in the past?"

"No. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before."

Greg looked at her thoughtfully, then paused as their waiter arrived with the food and laid it in front of them. Once the waiter had moved out of earshot, Greg said, "The only reason I can think of, for anyone to try and destroy your paintings, would be to frighten you. And it did look like that intruder was about to start slashing paintings when we interrupted him. It's like the note, it was obviously sent to frighten you. It's probably the same people. Do you have any enemies that you know of?"

"No."

"What about this gallery thing? There must be more to it than you're telling me. Maybe you stumbled on something you didn't realize, or asked a question that tipped someone off to your suspicions. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Then why did you think the note was from someone at the gallery?"

"Drop it!" Nikola replied angrily, "I wasn't thinking straight. I have no idea what the note refers to and that's why I want to go to Grove."

"Okay, but I don't know what we can find there," Greg said with a shrug.

"Well, you said you used to be an investigative reporter, so help me investigate."

"Look," he said with a heavy sigh, "I'll do my best, but we have nothing to go on, just a postmark."

"Oh, just humor me. If nothing else, it'll be a nice day in the country. But I have a feeling something will turn up."

"Like the feeling you're being followed?"

Nikola chose to ignore his obvious sarcasm. While she found his attitude very annoying, she didn't want to alienate him because she needed his help. And if there was any connection between him and Martha, she intended to find it. Eventually he had to slip, and she hoped the trip to Grove would provide a location for it. "Not quite as strong as that one. I know I'm being followed."

"You seem to put a lot of store by your feelings."

"I don't have a past or a family. Without my instincts I'd be lost. I think I'm more in tune with them than most people are. I have to be, sometimes I need them to survive. Also, being an artist forces me to explore myself, and intuition is a big part of that. But enough about me. We've been talking about me all evening. Let's talk about you." Nikola took the opportunity to question Greg about his stated profession and see how well he could defend himself. "Are you working on any new articles lately?"

"Nothing special."

"I guess you get to meet a lot of artists in your work, don't you?"

"Yes - it's very interesting."

"So, who was the wildest one you met?"

"Well, they're all interesting. Every artist seems to have their own individual quirks and colorful history," he answered vaguely. "Take you for example, being an orphan, you didn't grow up with all the usual baggage and preconceived notions that all the rest of us have. It seems to make you more receptive to your surroundings."

"It's not nearly as romantic as you think. Remember, I was brought up by Catholic nuns, and they have more than their share of preconceived notions. If anything, I imagine that they drilled us more rigidly than any normal parents would."

"Yeah, but without a heritage, you had to use your imagination more to fill in the gaps. Your mind is more flexible. You can make yourself into anything that you want to be."

"But with no reality or support for any of it. What are you trying to say, that I'm shallow? Because I switched styles, you think I'm fickle now?" Nikola sensed that he had once again turned the conversation away from himself, but she couldn't help rising to the bait.

"No, I'm not saying that at all."

"So, what did you mean by that statement before?"

"Nothing really. Simply that your background is different because of it. I think your art is wonderful, Nikola, and with a lot of depth. And I feel like you're really in touch with the human condition, and how isolated we all really are in the end."

Nikola could hear that he was trying to make amends, but wasn't sure if he was serious or just trying to pacify her, so she decided not to pursue the matter further. "So, when can I see that article about me?"

"Uh, soon, I hope. My editor is giving me a bit of a run-around because of some scheduling problems, so I haven't been pushing too hard, but don't worry, I should have it finished any day now and I'll definitely show it to you before it gets published."

"Good, I'm looking forward to it." Privately she wondered if she would ever see it or if it was just a piece of fiction necessary for some kind of strange charade.

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