H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre (18 page)

Chapter 34

I

Claude Recheau could feel the blood pounding in his temples.  He flung his cell phone across the car.  The phone bounced off the seat, hit the door, rebounded and landed at his feet.  Marcil was bringing in the Corsican.  That murderous son-of-a-bitch was a lunatic and big trouble.  At a minimum Claude would be splitting his fee.  More than likely the bastard would try to slit his throat and take the entire commission.  This was unprecedented.  He was, after all, a professional.  This was disrespect.  If Marcil weren’t so, so….so what?  So…well connected.  That’s what it was.  Marcil was a fool with connections, dangerous connections.  This was a screwed up job anyway, following two simpletons around the countryside.  Why not just snag the two Americans?  He could have a little fun with the woman, maybe do that water trick with the man.  He’d find out what they were doing for sure.  Recheau thought the situation over.  There was something more here.  Something he hadn’t been told.  Whatever it was it meant a great deal to Marcil.  He had one hope; maybe he could get this done before that bastard Corsican got here. 

He sat in a Renault.  Using a pair of military grade 22x50 binoculars he watched the fools by the side of the road.  A flock of sheep had them surrounded.  The sheep were shitting all around the car.  That was funny; it must stink to high heaven in that rattrap car.  The American woman seemed to be asleep.  The man was daydreaming, and the sheep were shitting.  It was boring as hell. 

The man sat up straight, shook his wife and pointed.  Another damned barn search.  They were moving; now they were out of the car and walking toward the building with the collapsed roof.  Claude sat back in his seat, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and flicked his lighter.  He thought about the Corsican.  He thought about calling Marcil and telling him the Americans were wading in shit and searching another barn.  Screw it.  Action was better than following these fools.  “I’ll have to go visit that building with them,” he thought; and he smiled for the first time in three days.

II

Jim and Eve approached the building.  “Do you see how this one is different?” asked Jim.  “This one has an overhanging second floor that’s pronounced – see, look there,” he said while pointing, his arm fully extended above his head. 

“We’ve not seen tile roofs before either,” said Eve. 

“You’re right, we haven’t – good catch,” agreed Jim.

They opened the building’s double doors and peered inside.  There was plenty of light as the north half of the building had collapsed and much of that part of the roof was missing.  The barn had storage areas on both sides of a central hall that ran its length.  In that central bay stood two old cars, one a Mercedes built in the early sixties Jim would guess and the other a Renault, also built in the sixties.  “Stood” was actually a charitable term.  Upon closer examination Jim saw that the two vehicles actually rested on concrete blocks; their wheels and tires removed.  A small pile of pipes, old mufflers and other car parts lay to one side near a grain bin.  At the far end of the barn, on the left was a sort of tool room.  Then the building opened to the orchard beyond as the wall had collapsed around the corner post.  The tool room’s inner parts were on display as the roof above it had fallen when the exterior wall had collapsed.  On the right, in seemingly good condition, were four horse stalls. 

Jim fought down his growing excitement.  “The diary says he hid in a stall.”  Jim pointed at the four stalls.  “It doesn’t say which one, but if it were me I’d have picked the one the farthest from the door.  The last one.  Lets check it out.” 

“Jim, there’s a door at each end,” Eve pointed out.  “Okay, the one farthest from the road then.” he shot back.  Eve shrugged and squeezed his hand.  “This is exciting,” she said as they walked to the stall.

Jim pushed open the door to the last stall and looked around.  The floor was hard dirt, scraps of straw were scattered about.  Inside the stall stood an old oil drum, and several tires and rusting hand tools were scattered on the floor.  They stepped into the stall and examined the floor and sidewalls.  Nothing remarkable.  They rolled the oil drum into the central corridor of the barn, pushed the tires out and then reexamined the floor of the stall.  Again finding nothing unusual.  They looked at each other. 

“Tell you what…” Jim walked to the far corner and picked up a shovel.  “If we can find a rake you rake the debris out of here then I’ll dig a couple of test holes.”  Eve agreed, and they began to search the barn for tools.  Eventually finding a garden rake they returned to the stall.

  “I’ll go down a couple of feet in nine holes, three on each side and three in the middle.  If we don’t find anything we’ll do the next stall.  If we still don’t have anything we’ll call it a day, go have supper and come back tomorrow.  Sound like a deal?” 

Eve looked at him and grinned.  “You can count on me.  Why, just this morning I was wondering if I’d get to dig holes in an old barn stall while I was vacationing in France.  Nothing more I wanted to do!” 

After forty-five minutes Jim had completed three holes down the middle of the stall.  “Whew, this is taking longer than I thought,” he huffed. 

Eve had cleaned out the next stall and was beginning to clear the third.  “There’s a lot of old junk in this place.  Why do people put all their cast off stuff in a barn?  Just throw it away!”  She was talking more to herself than Jim.

Jim completed the fifth hole, but was running out of places to move the dirt.  Eve found a barn shovel and began filling in the dry holes. 

“Ya know, you’re pretty good with a shovel,” Jim puffed as he lifted another shovel full of dirt.

“You sure know how to flatter a girl,” Eve gasped as she drove her shovel into the pile of fresh dirt. 

Jim was about to declare the sixth hole empty when his shovel hit a hollow sounding, apparently wooden, obstacle. 

Both their heads snapped up, and they stared at each other.  “What was that?” she said.

“I don’t know, but it sounded good,”  Jim replied.  In a flash Eve was by his side, and they began to dig with a vengeance.  After only a few minutes they had what appeared to be an oblong box outlined in the dirt.  Jim directed Eve to one end.  Digging a bit further they were eventually able to push their shovels under the bottom edge of the box.  After a moments rest they both began to pry the box out of the dirt.  Two  good pushes and the box broke free.  Then they each pushed a hand into the dirt and, on the count of three, lifted the box out of the hole.  As they lifted the box out of the hole they spotted a second, small square box underneath the first.  Finding the first box surprisingly light they moved it to the center of the stall. 

A second box took a bit more work as it was buried deeper.  Ten minutes later they had it next to the first.  A few moments later they’d convinced themselves there were no more boxes in the hole, and they sat down for a quick breather.  Another search of the barn turned up a horse brush and they were soon on their knees in front of the boxes.  Jim began with the larger box.  He gently began to brush off the dirt.  Occasionally he would tap gently with the side of the brush to breakup clumps of dirt.  Finally, he exposed a once shinny wooden surface that appeared to have been lacquered.  The lacquer had faded and clouded but it was clear it contained some sort of design.  Three leather straps ran through guides around the box keeping it closed.  Sweeping the front they found the three accompanying buckles.  Eve looked at Jim.  “Think this is what we’ve been looking for?” 

He didn’t answer.  Instead, he examined the first buckle.  He began to unbuckle the strap, one tug and the strap itself separated.  They quickly pealed the remnants away from the box.  The same thing happened with the other two.  Jim glanced at Eve while taking a deep breath; she returned the look by holding up crossed fingers.  With that, Jim lifted the cover of the box, and there inside was a medieval sword resting on a felt pillow.  “Wow” was all they could say.

“It’s wonderful!” exclaimed Eve. “That’s got to be one of the neatest things!” 

Jim sat back on his haunches and smiled.  “This is really, really cool,” he whispered.  They looked over the sword in silence for a few moments. 

Then Eve grew serious.  “Hon, I gotta tell ya something.”  Jim noticed the change in her voice.  This was certainly the wrong time to bring up something about the farm, bills or her health. 

“What?  What’s the matter?” he asked worriedly.

“Babe, I gotta go to the bathroom.”  She looked grim.  Her face set in stone.  Jim could only stare.  After a moment a grin crept onto her face and spread from ear to ear.  Finally she was laughing at her own joke. 

“Ahhh…you turkey!  Now?  We find a magnificent ancient sword and you’ve gotta go?  You’re a piece of work.  Okay, well, just go around the back, no one will see.  I’ll wait to open the other one.”  Jim was laughing; she could always break the tension.  She stood up and squeezed through the small opening at that end of the barn. 

Jim carefully looked over the sword.  After a moment he closed the box and moved it into the central corridor of the barn.  There he found a shaft of light and sat the box down in it.  He returned to the stall, picked up the other box and carried it to the corridor.  Finding an old bucket he turned it upside down and sat on it.  Carefully he cleaned the second box.  There was a design on the surface of this box too.  He tried to make it out, but the grime and faded surface was too much. 

Sweeping the dirt away from his treasures he returned to the first box and opened it.  Lifting the sword from the pillow he carefully examined the hilt, then the blade.  Amazing.  It did not appear as if any water or dirt had worked its way into the box.  The sword did not show any rust.  Its pommel was a bit dull and the leather wrapped grip was a bit off colour, but really, he couldn’t find any damage.

Turning it over he examined the backside.  The pillow had preserved the color of the leather wrapped around the pommel.  It was clearly a working sword.  He carefully ran his finger along the pommel and could feel an engraving underneath.  It would require removal of the leather wrapping to examine.  Jim dismissed that idea immediately.  He then stood and held the sword in the sunlight.  Its blade seemed to change colour in the light.

Chapter 35

“She’s a beautiful weapon she is,” a voice said from behind him.  Jim spun around.  There stood a large man with an even larger pistol in his hand.  He pointed the pistol at Jim’s forehead and, without a trace of emotion said “Monsieur Creen-shaw, où…, ahhhh…, where…is she your
épous
e…ah, ah…wife?”

“Who the hell are you?” Jim spat out.  His mind raced.  Was this the owner of the barn?  If so, wow!  This guy took trespassing pretty seriously.  Why did he want Eve?  Thought they outlawed guns in Europe?  Why did the guy have a gun?  It looked like the pistol he’d been issued in the Air Force, an M-9 Berretta.  Should he tell him where Eve went?  Could he take this guy in a fight?  He looked pretty big. 

Jim stared hard at the man trying to make out the features in the mixture of light rays and shadows caused by the collapsed portions of the barn.  Where had he come from?  Behind the large man were the double doors nearest the old cars.  It was through these doors that the man had entered. 

“That, she is not the issue now, no?” the man said.

The central corridor of the barn ran its entire length.  On one side were the storage closets.  The opposite side had the stalls and a workbench.  Double wagon doors were at each end, allowing a drive through functionality.  The side opposite the stalls had long ago caved in, but the wall structure of the lower level rooms on that side had prevented a complete collapse.  There were, however, several large gaps in the wall as well as windows and cracks that allowed anyone outside that side of the barn to peer inside with relative anonymity.  It was through one of these openings that Eve now watched. 

“She had to go outside,” Jim said.

“Where?” the man asked. 

Jim thought that over a bit.  If he told the man she went out where she actually did what would he do?  If, on the other hand, he told this fellow that she went out the end where he had entered would he wonder why he’d not seen her?  Was there an advantage to either answer?  In the nanosecond that it took for these thoughts to cross Jim’s mind he saw Eve slip through the door at the far end of the barn behind the man with the pistol.  Her footsteps were silent on the packed smooth dirt as she carefully picked up a flat shovel and stepped between the two rusty old cars.  There, she got to her hands and knees and looked along the ground under the car.  She could see both Jim’s shoes and the man’s stylish loafers.     

“She went out that way…” Jim pointed behind the gun, “and then around to the side.  She had to go relieve herself.”

The stranger smiled.  “When one must…” he said.  “Now, I want you to put that sword her back in her case, no?  Then, you will close her up and walk to the doors….ah, ah…” he struggled to find the word.  “In front me, no?  Don’t you try nothing stupid you and you might live to see tomorrow.  You understand good?”

Jim knelt to the box and carefully placed the sword on the pillow.  Then he closed the lid and positioned the awkward box under his arm.  With his free hand he scooped up the second box.

“Allez, you… première…ahhhh…go…first you first.”  The stranger waved Jim toward the rusty cars with his pistol.

Jim slowly walked the length of the corridor.  Approaching the two cars he moved to his left, keeping the cars on his right, and slightly increased his stride.  He made a show of keeping the two boxes from hitting the car and the wall.  As he reached the gap between the two automobiles he glanced down, being careful to move only his eyes and not his head.  Eve had the shovel gripped like a baseball bat and was squatting on her heels.  Jim took three more steps and then attempting to distract the man said, “So you want that sword?  You can have it.”  Jim said this while gently turning his body to the left and stopping.  This caused the man to perceive a threat from Jim and his eyes to follow Jim’s movement.  

Recheau smiled.  He only needed a small excuse.  He took a short step toward Jim.  This caused him to step quickly past the gap between the cars.  At that point Eve stood and stared directly at the back of his head.  Silently she raised the shovel, being careful not to bump it against either of the two cars.  She paused only a moment and then brought the flat of the shovel down on the top of the head of the stranger with as much strength as her five foot two inch frame could muster.  He collapsed like a sack of potatoes.  Jim was on him in a flash, grabbing the gun almost before it hit the dirt. 

“Ou…that’s gotta hurt,” Jim said with a smile.  “Nice job babe!” and he leaned over and kissed her.  “I thought I was in big trouble there for a second.”  Jim pushed the gun into his waistband.

“You know I’ve got your back babe!” she said with schoolgirl excitement.  Then she and Jim dragged the stranger to the front of the Mercedes. 

“Hon, take a quick look outside, make sure there aren’t any more like this.  I’ll tie him up before he comes to.” 

“Is he going to be alright?”  Eve asked, wondering if she’d hit their assailant a bit too hard.

The man’s eyes seemed to be focused on the ceiling.  Jim picked up a limp wrist and checked the pulse.  It was there, strong and steady.  Together they watched the pupils of his eyes expanding and contracting rapidly.  Jim felt the back of the man’s skull.  “No depression in the bone, he’ll live.  We’d better get some rope and tie this joker up.  Wonder who he is, and more importantly, why was he pointing a gun at us?” 

Jim searched the barn and finally returned with a length of electrical wire.  It wasn’t enough to do a proper job but would have to do for now.  He then tied the man’s hands and sat him up against the Mercedes.  Eve slipped outside of the barn and checked both sides.  They seemed to be alone.  She spotted Rechaud’s car parked on the opposite side of the little bridge and decided to search it.  Leaning back in the barn she told Jim of her discovery and that she would be back in a moment.  He told her to be careful and began to search the man.  After a few minutes Eve returned with the car’s registration paperwork and a pair of binoculars. 

“There was some half eaten food and a bunch of trash in the back seat.  This guy’s a real slob.  The only other thing in the car was this set of spy-glasses.  I figured we could check his ID against the registration.” 

“That’s good thinking babe,”  Jim said as he rolled Rechaud’s still limp body over on his face.  “How’s that dirt taste buddy?”  Jim muttered as he searched for a wallet.  Not finding one he rolled Rechaud to his back and checked his front jacket pocket.  “Here,” he handed a black wallet to Eve.  She rifled though the wallet and soon found a driver’s license for a ‘Monsieur Andre Lefebvre’.  The car was registered to a Madame
Carolanne Crepeau, born in 1935. 

Jim reached behind his back and pulled out the Berretta.  Pressing a lever with his thumb, he released the clip and caught it with his off hand.  The clip was full.  Pulling the slide back he ejected a shell from the chamber.  “He wasn’t fooling,” Jim said, looking at Eve.

Jim sat back on his knees, thinking as he tucked the gun behind him.  “Eve, we’ve got a problem.  This guy’s carrying a false I.D.  And, he called me ‘Monsieur Crenshaw’.  He’s not just some hood.” 

Eve was stunned.  “How did he know our name?”

“That’s the problem.  I’m thinking we need to load those two boxes in the car and get out of here.” 

“Give me the gun.  I’ll watch this guy, you load the boxes,” Eve commanded. 

Jim reloaded the gun and handed it to her.  Before he let go he met her eyes and said firmly, “If you’re going to shoot, then shoot.  Understand?” 

She nodded and he turned back to the boxes.  Then Jim stopped. “Why can’t you load the boxes?”

“Hon, they might be heavy.  And, they’re pretty dirty.”  She looked at him and smiled.  “Oh my God,” Jim muttered and picked up the long box.  A few minutes later Jim had both boxes in the trunk of the car. 

“What do we do with this guy?” Eve asked.

Jim bent to look closer at the man.  His eyes were fluttering open and closed.  His breathing was steady. 

“I think he’s going to come around any minute,” Jim whispered.  “Let’s see if we can find some more wire to tie him with.” 

Together they searched the barn again.  This time checking every corner, cabinet and locker.  Finally Eve found a rusted electrical fan.  Stringing the cord out on the ground Jim raised a shovel over his head and slammed the blade down near the base of the fan, cutting the cord.  They then doubled the tie on the man’s hands.