H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre (20 page)

“What is going on?” Eve whispered. 

“I wish I knew,” Jim replied, then shouted, “Hey, you can’t leave us tied up in here!  HEY!”  

“Hon…hon….HON!”  Eve said, gradually elevating her voice.  “Please shut up…I think it’s better that he’s out there and not in here.”

Jim thought about that for a moment and couldn’t deny the wisdom of what Eve had just said.  With that, Jim and Eve began trying to figure out how to untie their ropes.

Chapter 39

Paul Marcil walked through the Renaissance Masters section of the Louvre.  His assistant was telling him about a minor Normandy painter’s work found in Argentina which, in his worthless opinion, the museum should acquire.  Apparently this painting had been spirited away by some minor Nazi thief when the bastard had fled to South America.  It did have a good story Marcil admitted to himself, but the artist was, in truth, not very good and not very important.  He was about to tell his assistant to forget the painting when his cell phone vibrated.  Marcil, grateful for the interruption, waved the assistant away and placed the phone to his ear. 

The report was better than he could have hoped.  He sat down on one of the benches near The Sabine Woman by Delacroix.  He could barely conceal his excitement.  His backup man had performed admirably, as he always did.  It seemed this little pair of Americans had provided him with the most precious French artifacts in the history of the Kingdom.  He certainly would be made a Royal now.  He was going to be catapulted to the top rung of the Action Françoise and he would be a wealthy and secure man for the remainder of his life.  He heard the Corsican, but didn’t listen to him.  Would he be a Duke?  Certainly he would be made a Count, at the minimum a Baron.  He thought about what kind of castle he should live in, of course he would buy a castle.  And the Duchesse?  Ahhhh, she would be a trophy…  The Corsican was asking if he was there.  Of course he was.  And the man should speak with more respect! 

The question now was what to do about the two Americans.  The Corsican didn’t know if they’d opened the second box.  He didn’t think they’d had as they’d not mentioned it when he’d questioned them.  He had been wise not to open it in front of them, but unfortunately they had seen the contents of the first.  That caused some issues.  If they told anyone about the sword, and someone figured out exactly which sword it was then its value would, by necessity, be lessened.  That was only natural.  The sword would become a hunted object.  The Council would have to take extraordinary measures to protect it.  If, on the other hand, they were not allowed to tell anyone…well, that was an entirely different story.

The question was one of risk and reward.  A great many people knew of the Crenshaw’s discovery of the Royal Patent.  It had even made its way to the American newspapers in Detroit.  Many people surely knew these two had come to Paris, even to see him.  Of course, not many knew they had actually completed that visit, and no one in the museum knew what they had brought.  At least he didn’t think they did.  He was fairly certain that no one working for the Louvre read the Detroit Free Press!  He wasn’t sure who knew they had left Paris to search for other items associated with the Royal Patent.  But, certainly there had to be someone, if no other than the car rental company’s staff.  There was the matter of the two professors the Crenshaw’s had spoken with.  They must have discussed the possibility of additional items when they visited the American professor at the University.  He couldn’t be certain, but it was only logical.  Most disturbing was the fact that they had spent several days speaking with many, many people in and around Cherhery.  No, their disappearance could not be completed simply.  He thought this all over and then told the man on the phone that he needed to consult with his associates.  He would provide additional instructions shortly.  With that, he disconnected his phone and rejoined that blathering fool of an assistant.   

Chapter 40

Jim and Eve were surprised when, about ten o’clock that evening the door of the room opened.  They were made to sit on the floor opposite the door.  Then they were presented with a teacart.  On its top were several different cheeses, meats, and fruits.  A bottle of wine and glasses were visible on the bottom shelf of the wheeled cart.  The dark skinned man untied Eve’s hands, said “bon appetit,” turned around, left the room and closed and locked the door. 

They looked at each other.  Stunned was the word, but it didn’t accurately portray how surprised they were.  Eve quickly untied Jim’s hands.  They held each other for a moment.  “I’m scared Jim,” was all Eve could say. 

They searched the room for anything that could assist in their escape.  Nothing.  They listened at the door; only the faint sound of the television downstairs could be heard.  They examined the bed, the armoire, and the small chest of drawers.  Nothing.  Eve went to the window and peered out.  There was nothing but a small field, with a stand of trees on the other side. 

They hadn’t eaten since lunch so they quickly gave up their search of the room and descended on the cart.  They ate in silence.  An hour passed.  The light bulb had been removed from the one overhead lamp.  Dusk had long ago crept into night.  The man came to the door and knocked.  Jim hesitated then answered with a simple, “Yes?” 

“You should please to sit on the floor.  On the opposite wall of course please.” 

“Yes, now what?” Jim answered a moment later.

The man entered, his pistol tucked into his belt.  He threw a blanket on the bed, took the cart and left.  Silence returned.  The only light in the room came from the keyhole in the door.  Eventually, they fell asleep. 

The next morning Eve and Jim were awake at dawn.  They carefully listened at the door.  Nothing.  The television was still on in another part of the house.  Jim got to his knees and tried to look under the door, but that view didn’t extend as far as he’d hoped.  He then tried to look through the keyhole.  Being an old fashioned, skeleton key lock this met with some success.  He was able to see into the room opposite and part of the staircase.  It was like peering through a straw but it did work.  He could hear the television.  Had it been on all night?  Their antagonist was not in view. 

Eve went to the door, leaned over Jim who was still looking through the lock and put her ear against it.  Then she tried the other walls.  “I don’t hear anything except the TV,” she whispered.  Jim shrugged.  Then he looked up at her and said, “Pound on the door.” He put his eye back to the lock.  She made a fist and began to hit the door.  After several blows she gave a funny jump, “Ouuu…..that one hurt.” She said as she rubbed the outside edge of her hand.  Jim continued to watch through the keyhole.  Nothing. 

After ten minutes and no response, Jim decided to pound on the door.  After five sharp raps he went back to the keyhole.  Nothing.  He then announced he was going to break down the door.  He prepared to ram the door with his shoulder then stopped.  He examined the doorframe.  “Hon…this isn’t like on TV.  This frame is heavy duty.  I don’t think I can do it.”  He began to look around the room.  “I’ll take the bed apart and we can use it to batter down the door.” 

She looked at him.  “Hon, why don’t we just break that window and go out that way?” 

He looked at the window.  He looked at the bed.  “We didn’t think of that last night?” 

“No” she said. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said, more to himself than to her. 

They peered out the window.  Only a small yard surrounded the house, at least on this side.  Then a field of grass gave way to a small wooded area.  Jim tried the window.  He couldn’t open it.  Several coats of paint insured this window wasn’t going to be opened without a toolbox full of knives, screwdrivers and crowbars.  He stepped to one side of the window, back flat against the wall, and tried to look along the outside wall of the house.  Nothing.  He went to the other side of the window and did the same.  Nothing.  Eve stripped the blanket off the bed and gave it to him.  He wrapped his hand several times, stepped to the side of the window, wound up and hit the window as hard as he could.  Immediate pain shot up his forearm.  “DAMN that hurt! God I hope I didn’t break my arm.  DAMMMMNNNN that hurt.”  Jim gripped his arm.  After a few moments he stopped pacing around the room. 

They sat on the bed.  Several seconds passed in frustrated silence.  Then, without a word, Eve went to the door and looked out the keyhole.  Nothing. 

The question was how to break the window.  They examined the bedroom again.  Finally, Jim pointed at the bureau.  They had already searched it and found it empty, but now they attempted to remove the drawers.  Eventually, they found the catch and successfully removed the middle drawer.  Eve went to the keyhole and peered out.  Nothing moved.  The television was still on.  She gave a thumbs-up to Jim.  He picked up the drawer and slammed it into the window.  The glass exploded outward.  He quickly looked at Eve.  She peered through the keyhole.  Nothing. 

He broke out the rest of the glass from the frame.  Eve had already tied the blanket to the bed.  He tossed it out the window, climbed through and slid down the blanket.  Jumping the last several feet to the ground.  Walking next to the wall he went to the front of the building and checked for signs of their antagonist.  Then he went to the back of the house.  No sign of the man or his car.  Returning to the room window he motioned for Eve to climb out.  After a pause she summoned her strength and was sliding down the blanket.  After a few feet she lost her grip, choked back a scream and landed on Jim who was trying to catch her.  “You could have waited until I got your feet, I could’a let you down easy,” Jim complained. 

“Sorry.  I lost my grip,”  Eve had a lot more to say, but kept quite.

Staying close to the side of the house they circled the building, nothing.  The Mercedes was gone.  They went to the front door.  It was unlocked.  They crept into the house.  Silently, carefully, they searched the bottom floor.  No one was there.  They were alone.

Jim looked at Eve.  “We’ve got to get out of here, NOW.”  With that Jim took Eve’s hand, dashed out the kitchen door and began to run toward the field.  They made the field and kept running.  Finally they had crossed the field and entered the small wood.  Here, Jim slowed.  They slid behind a large beech tree, turned and watched the house.  They didn’t see anyone. 

“Why are we running?  That guy is gone,” Eve gasped. 

“How do we know he’s not driving back down the road right now?” Jim puffed.

Eve’s eyes opened a bit wider.  “Okay, I’ll buy that, but now what?  We can’t stay in this little woods forever, and I can see through it anyway.  We’ll be spotted in a heartbeat.” 

Jim walked to the edge of the woods nearest the road.  Keeping a tree between himself and the road he checked as far as he could see.  Nothing.  Where had their captor gone?  Suppose the man had only left for a brief time.  Surely they’d be in danger if he returned and found them missing. 

Chapter 41

The Corsican’s car fairly flew over the French countryside.  His conversation with Marcil hadn’t gone as he’d wished.  It made no sense to leave two people alive that had seen his face and could identify him and his automobile.  He’d made that point to Marcil.  It did no good.  Marcil had insisted the danger was less if he left them alone.  He’d fully expected to kill them last evening.  Had he known that Marcil didn’t want the man and woman dead he wouldn’t have allowed his face to be seen.  This was a terrible breach of etiquette on the part of the stupid Frenchman.  But, the commission was considerable and customer satisfaction was what he prided himself on.  Therefore, he’d put a large amount of antihistamine into their wine and cheese.  It was just enough to ensure they slept soundly when they did fall asleep.  He didn’t want them to have any suspicion of the drugging.

He’d slipped out of the house shortly after three that morning.  Sadly, he’d have to get rid of the car.  He should have done that before he left Cheveuges.  But, the odds were on his side.  Being caught now in this car was simply an unlikely proposition.  The chance of a police notification for a stolen car was much greater.  After all, the number of steps required were greater.  The Americans had to get out of the house, get to the police, establish their credibility, provide an accurate description of the car, and then the police bureaucrats had to establish a watch for the car.  But, even with all that it would be done, and it probably would be done within twenty-four hours.  Not an issue, tomorrow this car would be a smoking wreck. 

The two hundred fifty kilometer drive back to Paris was a pleasant ride.  He arrived in the early morning, took a short nap, ate a small meal, showered changed clothes and he was a new man.  Removing the sword from its box he took several pictures.  Then, he wrapped a sheet of white paper around the pommel and made a rubbing of the piece all around.  Naturally the leather wrapping showed, but so too did the underlying crosshatched engraving.  He then carefully replaced the sword in its box.  Opening the smaller box he was stunned to find a relatively plain crown with four fleur-de-lis extending upward from a modest gold band.  Again he took several pictures of the piece; then replaced it in the box. 

Moving to his in-home office he sat down at the computer.  There he downloaded the pictures from the camera to his computer and hit ‘print’.  In a few seconds the printer provided high quality photo prints to his outstretched hand.  Placing these in a folder, along with the rubbing, he scooped up the two boxes and carried them down to his car. 

Shortly after lunch he drove to the Louvre, parking in the underground employee and VIP parking garage.  There he transferred the large box containing the sword to the trunk of Marcil’s BMW 750i.  Returning to his own car he removed the smaller box, wrapped his coat over it, and headed to the elevator.  In less than five minutes he was shown into Marcil’s inner office.