H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre (23 page)

Chapter 45

Marcil held the two statements of Jim and Eve while looking out of his window over the interior courtyard.  These two were causing him problems.  He wanted to be rid of them.  He didn’t have a reason, but his instincts told him it was necessary.  Unfortunately, it all came back to risk; they had told too many people of their trip to Chehery, to Paris and to see him.  It would be too messy.  It was better to just get them out of the country.  He was sure he’d done that.  They were sufficiently intimidated now; they wouldn’t stay long.  He thought about that.  He couldn’t kill them while they were in France, but when they returned to their home, ah, that was a different story.  That decision made he returned his thoughts to the Regalia.  He needed to get the sword, the crown, the Patent and anything else those boxes held out of Paris.  He walked to his desk, opened the lower left door and revealed a small shredding machine.  He fed the reports into the machine.  There was a loose end that needed to be cauterized.  He picked up his cell phone, hit speed dial and called the Corsican.  There were two Louvre detectives now destined to have terrible automobile accidents.

Finished with his cell phone he reached for the desk phone.  Hitting the intercom he told his secretary he was not to be disturbed and hung up.  Then he went to the office door and turned the lock.  Next, he opened the floor safe and removed the small box which had been delivered less than an hour ago.  The box itself was not overly large, nor heavy.  He carried the box to his desktop and sat down.  The box was beautiful.  The Corsican had cleaned it and now an ornate engraving of the fleur-de-lis outlined with what appeared to be gold could clearly be seen.  The wood itself appeared to be a dark exotic, but he wasn’t prepared to guess what type without a more scientific analysis.  Carefully opening the hasp he lifted the lid.

He allowed himself a moment to marvel at what he found.  There sat a gold crown with four royal fleur-de-lis standing from the band.  The crown rested on a dark purple pillow.  Tassels hung from each corner and the pillow was fringed with gold ribbon which was used to tie the crown to the pillow.  Forcing himself back into the role of the trained art historian he was he began a careful examination using his magnifying glass.  After five minutes he’d gone over the box, crown and pillow in detail.  Satisfied he untied the ribbons and removed the crown. 

He spun in his chair and sat the crown on the credenza behind.  Then, returning to the box, he removed the pillow.  Under the pillow was an intricate rococo carving of the Crucifixion.  Carefully examining the carving he quickly realized it hid a false bottom.  Once more using the magnifying glass he found a release disguised as the Shield of Longinus.  Pressing the shield he released the false bottom. 

Marcil’s hands began to tremble.  What additional treasure had he been given?  Sitting back in his chair he took a deep breath and, regaining his composure he removed the false bottom to reveal another thin purple pillow.  It took a moment for his brain to process what he found.  A heavy gold chain was affixed to a large oval gold necklace.  Jewels alternating with rubies sparkled from the circular edge.  In the center was a small, very dark green or black bottle no more than two inches high and half as wide affixed with wire to a square of what appeared to his educated eye to be ivory. 

Could this be the Holy Ampoule?  But, hadn’t it been destroyed by the revolutionaries in 1793?  He pondered this mystery for a moment.  Turning to his computer he brought up “Holy Ampoule” and confirmed its destruction.  But what was this?  Then it became obvious.  He had in his possession the Sword of Charlemagne, he was certain it was the authentic item; he knew the sword on display in the Museum was not.  He had this Crown, which he hadn’t proven, but strongly believed to be authentic.  He had the Royal Patent.  These items were all for the coronation ceremony.  There was only one key item left and that lay before him.  History was wrong!  This must be the authentic Holy Ampoule.

Checking his excitement he carefully examined the necklace.  It was beautiful.  It seemed he could feel its power.  There were no obvious signs that it was a fake.  Laying it aside he removed the pillow underneath and examined the box again.  No new treasures jumped out at him.  He spun round and laid the necklace next to the crown.  Returning to his computer he began a painstaking comparison of the crown with various artists depictions.  After twenty minutes he’d made a preliminary confirmation by comparing subtle details of the item on his credenza with the crown depicted in three different contemporary paintings of royal coronations. 

Closing his computer he pushed it to the far edge of his desk.  He then removed the blotter from the top of the desk and leaned it against the wall behind his chair.  Walking to the bookshelf in the corner he took down a picture of his wife.  Turning the frame over he removed the back, picture and glass.  Returning to his desk he laid the glass in the center of the desk.  Next, he placed the crown on the glass.  Reaching into his pocket he removed a small pocket-knife and began to scrap the inside of the band until a small pile of gold flecks formed on the glass.  Standing, he returned the pocketknife to his pocket and walked to a cabinet built into a wall bookshelf.  There, he removed a small bottle of hydrochloric acid.  Using an eyedropper he placed a small amount of the acid on the shavings.  As he watched the reaction he began to smile.  The metal was nearly pure gold.

He returned the crown to the box.  He picked up the glass, took it to his private rest room and washed it.  Then performed the same test on the necklace.  It too was nearly pure gold.  Next he examined the ampoule.  He didn’t have the instruments to determine if this truly was Roman glass, but a careful examination of the thing strongly suggested it was.  At least it held the appropriate visual clues.

The evidence was overwhelming.  He was convinced these items were real.  After a moment’s celebration and a glass of Cuvée cognac he replaced his desk blotter and took out his quill and special paper.  A detailed report was due.

Chapter 46

I

“Don’t ever shush me again!”  Eve spat.

“Did you see that?”  Jim was staring at the garage ramp in disbelief.

“See what?” asked Eve, oblivious to the traffic in the garage.

“That was the Mercedes!  That guy was talking on his cell phone and drove right by here,” Jim was nearly yelling.

“What?  No, I didn’t see it.  You sure?  Where, where did he go?  Are you sure?”  Eve had gone from tired and ready to fight to fully alert and ready for action. 

“Okay, now, let’s think about this.  Should we follow that car?  I’m not sure…  What do you think?”  Jim was trying to put together a plan; he wasn’t really asking for Eve’s opinion.  He was simply talking out loud.  Eve had plenty of experience with this little oddity in Jim’s personality.  She never resented it, but she never failed to give her opinion either. 

“I say let’s go to the police,” Eve began.

“Except that they’d arrest us,” Jim replied.

“There is that.  Okay, look, Jim, if we follow this guy it’s like a dog chasing a car.  What’s he going to do when he catches it?”  She said, pleased that she’d used the idiom properly.  “If we follow the car what happens if we catch it?  We’re in deep trouble – he’s got a gun and we don’t.”

“I’ll tell you what we do,” said Jim “We make sure we don’t catch him, and we make sure he doesn’t see us.  Then we report where he goes to the police.”  Jim looked at her, “I don’t have a better plan.” 

Gradually Eve began to nod her head.  “Let’s do it,” she said. 

Jim put the car in gear.  They exited the garage and stopped at the street.  “Left or Right?” he asked.  She sat up straighter in the seat and looked to the right.  He did the same and looked left.  “I don’t see him,” she said. 

“Me either.  Guess!  We’ve got to move!” Jim cried, exasperation in his voice. 

“Okay, turn left,” she exclaimed. 

They turned left and Jim accelerated.  After three blocks Eve cried out, “I got ‘em!  He’s about five cars ahead.”

“I don’t see it, what lane?”  Jim fired back.

“Middle lane,” she replied as she pulled a Paris street map from the glove compartment.  A second later Jim shouted, “OKAY, I see him!” and swung the car into the middle lane, leaving five cars between himself and the Mercedes. 

“Don’t get too far behind.”  Eve’s voice sounded tense. 

“I can’t get too close he’ll see me.”  

“No, you’re too far away!”

“I’m fine.”

“What happens if a light turns red between us and him?  You’ll lose him.  You need to get closer,” she insisted.

“Eve, I’m telling you we’re fine.  If we get too close he’ll see us and then we’re hosed,” Jim replied.

“That light’s turning!  Hurry!  Hurry!” she shouted.

Jim couldn’t accelerate in the traffic.  The light turned red as the Mercedes shot through the intersection.  “SEE I TOLD YOU!”  Eve shouted.

“Hon, hon, it’s okay the light at the next block is red.  I can see him.  We’ll catch back up.”  He was trying to remain calm.

“Look!  He turned right at the next light.  You’re going to lose him!”  She was nearly hanging out of the window.

“Eve, relax.  We’re not going to lose him.  I’ve got this,”  Jim assured her.  For the next ten minutes they were able to follow the Mercedes, always keeping three to five cars between themselves and the object of the chase.  The Corsican kept generally southwest, finally joining highway D533.  Shortly after passing the village of Bievres the Mercedes exited the highway on Rue de Bievres, passed the traffic circle and continued west on D36.  Now, half way to Chevreuse, signs indicating roadwork ahead began to appear. 

II

“Oh boy, we’re in trouble here.”  No sooner had Jim finished his sentence than traffic began to slow.  Soon it had slowed to a near stop, and the road necked down to one lane with oncoming traffic on the shoulder.  This turned into a happy circumstance as it allowed Jim and Eve to stay less than a hundred yards behind the Mercedes and still keep several cars directly between them.  Then the road closed in even further.  A flagman stopped traffic every few moments, allowing oncoming traffic use of the road for thirty seconds or so.  Then the process reversed.  Just as Jim approached the flagman he waved his flag to stop.  Eve’s heart sank.  Jim swore, pounded the steering wheel and together they watched the brown Mercedes speed off into the French countryside. 

“Now what?” asked Eve. 

“I have no idea,” Jim replied as they cleared the flagman.  They were in solid countryside now, fields on the north side of the road and woods on the south.  Each field was bordered with a small hedgerow, line of trees or sometimes just a wire fence.  They drove as fast as Jim felt safe, first cresting a hill then swooping down and cresting another.  It didn’t seem to matter.  There was always a slower car to be passed.  By now the Mercedes was out of sight.  Jim tried to reassure both himself and Eve that they had not lost the quarry.  They hadn’t yet passed a crossroad but he knew they would.  They had to catch a glimpse of the brown luxury car soon or this little drive was for nothing.

Suddenly, a tower of black smoke rose from a small wooded area several hundred yards to their front.  They instinctively slowed.  When the car pulled parallel with the smoke they spotted a two-track dirt path leading between two rows of hedges and trees in the direction of the woods.  Casting a glance at Eve and receiving a nod in response, Jim slowed and turned. 

The term ‘road’ was overly kind.  They were on a two-tracked path.  Each track made by the tires of vehicles driving back and forth, grass growing between each path.  Creeping slowly along the two-track path Jim became more and more worried about being ambushed here.

III

Finally, he stopped the car.  “Look hon, this is dangerous.”  Jim had opened his door.  “Someone could be in the woods and ambush us as we pass.  We’d never see them.  I’m going to walk ahead, see what’s there.  I’ll come right back.” 

She stared hard at Jim.  “That’s the worse plan I’ve ever heard,” she said. 

“Yeah, let’s hope it works,” he replied.  Leaning over and giving Eve a quick kiss he slipped out of the car and gently closed the door.  Moving to the edge of the two-track path he began to walk forward. 

Eve did not like this.  She was alone; her husband was off trying to be a stealth warrior and neither of them had any idea where the man in the Mercedes was.  After several minutes she decided that it would be better if she were in the driver’s seat.  Lifting the armrest she slid out of her seat and across.  Thankfully Jim hadn’t taken the keys out of habit.  She adjusted the seat and mirrors then sat back and tried to be patient.  It wasn’t working.  She watched the two-track road carefully.  Nothing, no movement, not even the tree leaves were rustling.  The smoke of what ever was burning up there still billowed above her head.  She could smell the burning rubber.  It must be close.  

This was taking longer than she liked.  It was time for an executive decision.  She started the car, pulled the shift lever and slowly began to roll forward.  The soft dirt in each track muffled the sound of the tires.  It was a new car, the engine quiet.  She sat up straight in the seat trying to see further along the two-track.