Monday, February 20, 2012

Chapter Sixty-one

Hamilton, Bermuda
12:01 AM

Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor haunted the room.  Walters stared at the glowing tip of his cigar, then closed his eyes as Vladimir Horowitz emoted Beethoven’s masterpiece.  Known as the Moonlight Sonata, it mirrored his somber mood as he sat still in the dark and waited for the dawn.  The crumpled fax lay on the floor beside him.
Someone has stolen the hard drive with the complete history of all of my transactions.
The wind stirred through the open door to the veranda.  A slight chill entered.
How did Horowitz extend his hands to cover all the keys so … gracefully?  It sounded like two separate sets of hands. 
That is what Masters do – make the impossible seem effortless.
The right hand graced the high notes calling for hope, serenity and redemption but the left hand answered with those deep dirge chords.  The piece ended with the two funerary chords by the left.
The smoke, music and ill breeze filled him with dread.  

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