[JJ06] Quicksand (5 page)

CHAPTER 8

“You’re joking,” I said. “Please tell me you’re joking. He wants you to steal something from the
Louvre
? As in the huge, famous, highly-secured museum in the heart of Paris?”

“It’s not
that
secure,” North said calmly. 

I gaped at him. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“There have been many successful thefts at the Louvre, as well as other museums like it, over the years.”

“Lane is
not
attempting to steal something from the Louvre.”

“Don’t underestimate him, Jaya,” Lane said. 

“I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but that doesn’t mean I want you to be carted off by the police in the dead of night.”

“That’s not how it’s done. Nighttime is a terrible idea for the Louvre.”

I choked on my water.

“In 1998,” Lane continued, “a Corot painting was stolen from the Louvre in broad daylight, during opening hours. It was during the one day of the month when the Louvre has free admission. It was the perfect backdrop to pull it off. With so many thousands of people in the museum, after the painting was removed from the wall, it was chaos.”

“Oh, I remember that one,” North said. “The entrances were blocked, and thousands of guests herded into the main entrance, under the great pyramid.”

“Armed guards were called in,” Lane said, picking up the story, “with the intent to search everyone. But it didn’t work. They were going to have a riot on their hands. With thousands of tourists, many of whom had flights to catch that day, they had to let people go. In the mix, the thief got away, too.”

“You two can’t do this,” I said. “You can’t!”

“It’s only art, Jaya,” Lane said. “It’s not as important as your life.”

“Perhaps this will help you feel better,” North said. “I’ve assured Lane that the piece in question isn’t anything he’d object to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know all about this moral compass of his. And from what I overheard, I know you’re already well aware of Lane’s scruples. Lane has always had the silly little idea that stealing from rich men who keep their treasures hidden from the world is morally excusable, even honorable, whereas stealing from the people is not. Except when it inconveniences him. But this isn’t Sherwood Forest. It’s the real world. Things are less...black and white.”

North broke off as Lane coughed.

“Forgive me,” North said. “You only
used to think
such things were honorable. Now you’re straight as an arrow, or so you say.” 

“Can’t you two stop being so convoluted and tell me what you’re trying to say?”

“He gave me his word,” Lane said, “that the object in question is nothing of cultural significance. It’s nothing the museum will even miss.”

“How is that possible?”

“Like we told you, he won’t tell me what it is until I agree to do the job.”

“Once you’re not able to back out.”

“Yes, but—”

“But he’s a
gentleman
, so he can’t possibly be trying to trick you.”

“I’m mortally offended,” North said. “I’m a true gentleman.”

“Then you won’t stop me when I stand up and walk out of here.”

“If you’re planning on calling the police,” North said, “don’t bother. I took the liberty of creating a record of your arrests here in France for drunkenness due to psychological problems. Tsk tsk, you’ve been quite a naughty young woman. One message from me, and the file will be made public record.”

“I’ve never even been to France before!”

“Computers don’t lie, my dear.” He smiled innocently. “Or do they?”

“I thought you said you needed our agreement,” I said.

“I was attempting to be nice,” North said with a devilish grin. “But I never work without a contingency plan.”

“Save it,” Lane said. “I told you I’m in.”

“Very good,” North said. “You realize I’ll want to keep an eye on your girlfriend until the job is completed.”

“I expected as much.”

“I’m a prisoner?” I asked, feeling my throat tighten.

“Not at all, dear girl,” North said. “I’ve added a monitoring device to your mobile phone.” He pushed my phone across the table. “I wouldn’t want you to be without a phone in the big city. But remember, someone will be listening. It would be easiest for everyone if you were to stay with Lane. If not, I’ve made arrangements for someone to accompany you. I’ve reserved that spacious hotel room for you for the entire week.” He turned to Lane. “It’s not exactly your style, I know, but that hovel of yours in the thirteenth arrondissement just won’t do.”

Lane coughed. He recovered quickly, but he was visibly shaken.

“Didn’t know I knew about that place, old boy?” North said. “Give me some credit. I do my homework. Now if you two don’t want to order any food, shall we adjourn to your hotel room?”

As soon as we reached the hotel room, the creepy man from the airport appeared. In his muscular arms, he carried two high-end pieces of luggage. He dropped the small bags by the door and departed.

Lane reached instinctively into his jacket pocket, but nothing was there. He must have been looking for a packet of cigarettes. Not good. That meant North’s knowing where he was living had stressed him out more than anything that had transpired that day.

“I hope you’ll find the clothes I picked out for you acceptable,” North said. “If you desire anything else, I can send Dante back to get more items.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Lane’s voice quivered almost imperceptibly, but I heard it. It was unnerving to see someone so noticeably shaken.

“Right,” North said, slapping his hands together. “I’ll let you two kids get comfortable. Well, not
too
comfortable. I’d be terribly embarrassed if I accidentally saw more than I meant to. Oh, but I should mention that of course I didn’t put cameras in the bathroom. Audio, though, so don’t get any ideas. And don’t even think about bringing anything besides yourselves and your clothing into the bathroom. Jaya, you’re to leave any makeup bags here in the main room and use the mirror above the bureau. I think that covers it. I’m next door, so don’t hesitate to give me a shout if you need anything.”

I stared at him, openmouthed. Did he really think I was going to write secret messages to Lane in lipstick on the mirror? That wasn’t actually the worst idea... “Wait,” I said, “we’re supposed to stay here while Lane plans this heist?”

“You’re free to go wherever you wish,” North said. “Someone will be there with you. Discreetly, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin any romantic dinners out in this most romantic of cities. Please feel free to explore. You seem like a lovely girl. I can see why Lane fell for you. When I thought of this way to get you to Paris, I really did hope you would enjoy the city. My research into you unearthed the fact that you had never been here.”

“We’re supposed to go to romantic dinners with one of your henchmen at the next table?” I said. My instincts were screaming at me, but unfortunately my instincts were yelling at each other, too. Part of me wanted to run away and never look back, but the other part knew I would never abandon Lane and throw away my own life.

“
Henchmen
?” North looked from me to Lane. “You’ve kept her quite sheltered, haven’t you?”

Lane gave a casual shrug, but he couldn’t stop nervously fiddling with his hands. Where was the confident man I knew?

“Make the best of your time in Paris, Jaya,” North continued. “I have a feeling Lane will be busy planning the acquisition with our associates
for most of his time here.”

“The
acquisition
,” I grumbled, shaking my head. “
Associates
.”

“From the expression on Lane’s face,” North said, “I think you’ll be ordering room service tonight rather than dining out. Feel free to order whatever you’d like. It’s on me. Now that I have your unconditional agreement, I’ll have the details of the acquisition delivered this evening.”

With that, he slipped out.

As soon as he was gone, Lane’s body language transformed. I wouldn’t say he was exactly happy, but he was no longer as shaken. He caught my eye and gave me a barely noticeable wink. He was up to something. I only wished I knew what it was.

CHAPTER 9

“I need to think,” Lane said. “I think best in the shower.”

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t in the top one thousand.

“Why don’t you order some room service while I take a shower?” Not waiting for an answer, he left his glasses on a side table and picked up the weekend bag. What was he up to?

Now that North was gone, my stomach told me room service wasn’t a bad idea. I was ravenous. I picked up the phone and ordered half the menu. Well, perhaps it was only a third of the menu. Smoked salmon canapés, Niçoise salad, Black Angus steak, a cheese platter, a piece of chocolate truffle cake, and a side of what I thought was probably green beans even though the translation had gone very, very wrong.

After hanging up the phone, I saw my room service order for what it was: an attempt to avoid being alone with my thoughts. For the first time since arriving in France earlier that day, I was alone. Sort of. The knowledge that I was being spied upon continued to freak me out.

I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in the space of one day. My stable life was gone. It had disappeared the moment I stepped onto that airplane.

That wasn’t entirely true. I’d said goodbye to my life the previous summer, when I’d chosen a treasure hunt over finishing a research paper, and when I’d let myself get involved with Lane even when I knew what he’d been before turning his life around.

Yet
neither
of those things—my treasure hunting or my involvement with Lane—explained why North had brought me to France. Why couldn’t he threaten me from afar? Not only that, but he didn’t need
me
at all. Lane was the one he needed to convince to go through with this ridiculous plan. Wouldn’t it have been easier for North to get Lane to do this job without me trying to convince him otherwise?

Listening to the sound of Lane moving around in the bathroom made me smile. The two of us together, I knew we’d figure it out.

The smile fell from my face. That was my answer to why North lured me to Paris. He needed to see what Lane’s true feelings were, and whether he cared enough about me to go through with a risky plan if it meant preventing my life from being destroyed.

I closed my eyes and lay back on the couch, pulling a plush pillow over my face, as if that would make my troubles disappear. We’d played right into his hands. North now knew with absolute certainty that he could use me to coerce Lane, no matter how dangerous the request. If only we’d realized North’s intentions sooner, we could have acted accordingly. But it was too late for that now.

It wasn’t, however, too late to fight. We couldn’t do so overtly, but as surely as I knew Lane was coming up with a plan, the gears in my mind were spinning, too. I wasn’t going to sit back and let Lane steal from the Louvre to protect me. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I was going to get us out of this mess.

I tossed the pillow aside and sat up, grabbing my phone. I knew North was monitoring my communications, but there had to be something I could do that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

When Lane emerged from the shower fifteen minutes later, I hadn’t come up with any great ideas. All I’d done was respond to emails from Tamarind, Sanjay, and my brother, telling them I’d arrived safely in Paris and that all was well. My father hadn’t emailed, because I hadn’t told him what I was doing. It was best that way.

Lane was fully dressed except for bare feet and no glasses. He rubbed a hand towel over his wet hair. His hair was perhaps an inch shorter than when I first met him, but it still hung long over his ears and his distinctive cheek bones. A white t-shirt clung to his damp body. He caught me looking at him and returned my look of longing. Damn those cameras.

“Food should be here shortly,” I said.

“Why don’t you go freshen up?” he suggested.

“I look that bad after the flight, huh?”

A series of emotions flashed across his face. “You look beautiful as always, Jones. I only meant that I know it’s a long flight.”

I grabbed my backpack, then remembered North’s warning about not taking anything big into the bathroom. I removed a change of clothes, wondering how much longer I could live like this without going crazy.

As soon as I closed the bathroom door, I saw why Lane had feigned the need to take a shower. Written painstakingly on thin toilet paper was a note. The pen broke through the flimsy tissue in several places. It was a wonder he had time to step into the shower at all after constructing this note. I started the shower and read what he’d written.

Jones, don’t worry. North didn’t find my apartment. He found a place I keep as an open secret, for situations like this. I reacted as I did because I wanted him to
think
he had the upper hand and let his guard down.

Only write messages here if urgent. Otherwise an unnecessary risk. If you leave a note to say something North shouldn’t hear, say the name Emma Peel in conversation. Then I’ll know to come look for it.

When out, assume our tail can hear everything we say.

Flush this note once done reading.

The tissue pulled apart at my touch as I read the words. No wonder North hadn’t thought this could be a way to communicate. I wished Lane had thought of a code word that would be easier to work into conversation than the name of the female spy from a 1960s British TV show, but I supposed the obscurity was the point. The code word would need to be something that wouldn’t come up in normal conversation, yet it couldn’t be so obscure it would arouse suspicion. In that sense, a character who made our present situation seem glamourous was a wonderful choice.
Emma Peel
was the perfect code word, and I never would have thought of anything like it. I was no good at being a spy.

I flushed the toilet twice to make sure the black ink of the marker didn’t leave a trace in the porcelain toilet bowl. As I watched it circle down the drain, I felt both invigorated and let down. Lane wanted to fight the situation right along with me, but he hadn’t come up with a concrete plan either.

When I stepped out of the luxurious bathroom after a quick shower that did nothing to calm my nerves, a huge spread of food sat on a table near the couch, and Lane was pouring two glasses of a smoky Scotch from the selection of full-size bottles at the mini bar.

“You remembered,” I said.

“Ho
w could I forget?” He set the bottle down and looked across the room service cart at me. “I missed you. I almost got in touch. So many times.”

“But you didn’t, because of this.”

He handed me a glass. “In spite of everything, it’s good to see you. More than I can say.”

“Me too.”

We toasted with pathetic attempts at smiles.

“At least we can make the best of it,” Lane said. “I see you’ve got a head start.” He eyed the vast expanse of food.

“I was hungry. I didn’t know what I felt like.”

“Mmm hmmm,” Lane murmured, taking a sip of the Scotch.

“I hate this,” I said. “Talking to you like this, with that man listening.”

Lane sighed, and when he spoke, the awkward stiltedness of the previous few minutes was gone. “You’re right. This is stupid. I don’t think North is listening.
Someone
is listening for him, to tell him about it if there’s something he should know about. So we shouldn’t have the most intimate of conversations, but keeping that in mind, try to forget the fact that the room is bugged. I wouldn’t recommend karaoke either.”

“You can’t sing?”

“The opposite,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I’m so good I’m afraid North’s eavesdropping associate would have no choice but to call a talent scout if he heard me sing. We don’t want that kind of distraction.”

With the awkwardness lifted, I felt I could finally appease my grumbling stomach. I popped a salmon canapé into my mouth.

As soon as I’d done so, a knock sounded at the door. Without looking at me, Lane walked to the door to open it, his bare feet leaving faint impressions in the lush carpet. Standing in the doorway was a man I hadn’t seen before. Though I couldn’t hear his voice, his perfectly pressed black slacks, razor sharp black jacket, and designer shoes suggested he was French. It wasn’t only the clothes. It was the way he held himself. If North dressed in this man’s clothing, he wouldn’t give the same impression. But if Lane donned the same clothing, that would be another story. Picking up on subtle cultural differences and blending in was perhaps his greatest skill.

Lane didn’t greet the Frenchman warmly, but gave a curt nod of recognition. They exchanged a few words, and the man handed Lane a small envelope before departing.

Lane’s face darkened as he read the contents. “It’s the information about the item I’m supposed to steal.”