Babayaga

chair by the wall and then departed, locking the door behind him. Sitting alone, she collected her thoughts. She guessed that the man’s having noticed her had set off the old impatient celestial clock’s ticking, and she knew she would have to act fast to escape the fate it was running toward. She took a deep breath; even pondering the effort ahead wearied her. She had seen too much excitement in the past few days. She remembered back to when she lived by herself in the forest: countless seasons would pass without the need for a major spell; small ones, yes, to lure in squirrels, moles, and tasty field mice, or to catch pheasants and quail, but other than that she had enjoyed the long silence of those years. Of course, that could not have lasted, once the steady industry of man found its fuel and it began burning and digging and wrenching everything in its omnivorous fashion; it was only a matter of time before it burned down her door. Now the world had no silence, it was full of tin radio sounds and fat Victrola tunes and constantly ringing telephones, the voices on the other end of the line always busily killing and clearing for what was to come next. Even the village church bells that once taunted her hourly with their misguided faith were now drowned out by bleating horns and sputtering engines, and she was sure that densely tangled tranquility of forest she had lived in had long ago been cleared for corrugated wheat fields and the hungry harvest threshers that went with them. One had to move fast now to dodge the massive crush of the machinery, the gears gnashing with their atonal screech and grind, as if a thousand grand pianos were constantly falling from the sky and crashing down on the pavement all around her. It was no wonder that she had a hard time concentrating. Alone in the room, she spat on the floor.
    A moment later, the door opened and the captain they had met in the hall entered the room with a second officer. She looked at the keys looped on their belts and held herself back from simply grabbing at them. That man back in the hallway had her jumpy, she could feel the clock ticking away, counting down. She always hated that clock. With a condescending tone, the captain explained that they had some questions regarding how she had wound up with Detective Vidot’s patrol car. “I already told the other one, why bother me?” she grumbled.
    The captain smiled politely. “Your explanation, madame, was slightly less than plausible. But maybe once you’ve given us more details we will be more ready to believe you. I will leave you here with Officer Aubert so you two can talk.”
    Elga nodded. She had been through variations of this at many border crossings and city gates and in the camps of captured artillery, and it was always the same mix of formality and stupidity from men who earnestly believed that they were being crafty. Some she confused, while many she killed, and Officer Aubert, who sat down across from her and opened his notebook with a patient smile on his face, would soon belong to the latter category. “Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked.
    “Do what you want,” she said.
    He lit his cigarette without offering her one. She knew this was part of the game: when he had first asked her permission to smoke, he was really saying “We are together,” while this subsequent failure of courtesy said “But I am superior.” She did not know if this was a trained nuance; she doubted it. All over the world, these interrogators acted out the same rote habits, like woodpeckers working their way down a tall pine thinking they are very clever in their search for bugs. But all the years of dodging questions and dealing with these pesky, prying interlocutors had left her with little patience. Besides, there was that man in the hallway and the clock was running. It was time to play her part. She leaned toward the man. “Now, my friend, do you want me to tell you the real truth about what happened that night? Is that what you’re looking for?”
    Aubert’s eyes lit up. “Why, yes, of course, that is why we’re here.” He dutifully readied his pencil at the top of the notebook page, prepared to commence.
    “Fine, but do not write this down yet. It is important you follow me with your complete attention. You can take notes later, now you should listen and watch,” she said, holding her finger up in front of his eyes. “Remember, the path of this story is very critical.” She started tracing out