H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre (22 page)

“That doesn’t sound too terrible Eve.  They need to authenticate items in the Museum.  I’ll bet they get hundreds of fakes every year.  Sounds to me like the guy was just doing his job.” 

Just then the waiter arrived with their food.  The conversation lagged as they ate a wonderful dinner of stuffed trout and sautéed vegetables.  After several minutes and between mouthfuls, Jim asked, “You really got a bad feeling about the guy huh?”

“Jim, I don’t know.  I just feel like there was something else going on,” Eve replied.  “I can’t put my finger on it but he didn’t have the right approach.  It just seems to me that a big museum would be much less demanding and more polite when they call someone out of the blue.”

“Okay, I understand.  Tomorrow we’ll get to the Louvre in the early afternoon.  It’ll be nap time for most of these Europeans.  We’ll keep a sharp lookout for anything odd he says or does.”

“Honey, you’re thinking of the Med, places like Spain and Italy.  I don’t think they take a siesta here.”  They had a good laugh and left the restaurant.  The remainder of the evening was spent at a small jazz club just off the central hub of Saint-Maurice. 

Chapter 43

The traffic on Avenue du General-Lemonnier was extremely heavy as they approached the massive museum.  “I wonder what’s going on today?” Eve said, not expecting an answer. 

“Something big, looks like a street art festival or something like that.  Guaranteed there’s no parking available,”  Jim observed.

They turned into the underground parking entrance, and stopped at the booth.  A large sign reading “Parking Garage Full” in a dozen languages hung from a saw horse.  Jim swore and shifted into reverse, anticipating a long afternoon attempting to find a place to park and a long walk to and from the car. 

Just then an attendant exited the booth.  Eve frantically waived him down.  In her best French she explained they were there to see Paul Marcil, deputy director of the Art Acquisition Department.  The man was impressed by the name and assumed these must be important people.  He ducked back into the booth and reemerged with a visitor’s pass.  Handing the pass to Jim he directed them to the employee and official guest parking area.  The guest parking spaces were nearly full and Jim and Eve were forced to park at the far end of the allocated area.  Finding a space in the middle of the row Jim quickly parked and they walked to an elevator.  Pausing before pushing the button for the main floor he looked at Eve.  “Into the lion’s den,” he said with absolutely no trace of a smile. 

The elevator quickly delivered them to the main floor.  From there it was a short walk to the administrative section of the Louvre.  Stepping off the elevator they faced a uniformed guard.  They explained the purpose of their visit.  The guard, speaking flawless English, escorted them to the administrative areas and asked them to take a seat in the small waiting area.  He then phoned Paul Marcil’s secretary.  

After a short conversation he hung up the phone, shot a smile in their direction and informed them that Mr. Marcil would see them momentarily.  A few moments later a pretty young woman approached the guard, who pointed at them.  She walked to Jim and Eve and announced she was there to escort them to Mr. Marcil’s office.  They followed their guide along a majestic hallway, their escort providing them with a running narrative of the paintings they passed, the occasional sculpture or artifact.  Eventually, they completed the maze and were standing once again outside of Room 102. 

“I hope he’s not going to be too upset,” Eve muttered. 

“I hope we don’t get tossed out of the country or in jail.”  Jim replied.

They entered the suite of offices and were quickly shown into Marcil’s inner office.  They sat on one of the sofas and admired the Louis XIV furniture around the room.   The secretary again offered them coffee and the laborious small talk began.  Marcil seemed excited about a fundraiser for the Louvre that was being held that night in conjunction with a new exhibit that he had helped put together.  He spent several minutes explaining the art pieces which were to be included and the anticipated guest list. 

After several minutes of this Jim decided to take the plunge and explained everything that had happened to them since they last saw the deputy director.  Marcil listened intently, his face grew red and Eve noticed that his collar seemed to be getting tighter as Jim continued with their story.  Finally, unable to stay silent, his face now blotched with crimson but clearly striving mightily to remain the picture of a French gentleman he said,  “Excuse me, may I ask why you did not tell me of your interest in the Sword of Charlemagne and the coronation crown?  These are extremely important and valuable items.”

The anger in Marcil’s face and voice was barely concealed.  The voice had remained level in volume, had not quivered, nor cracked.  It simply got its question out.  It was a question that Jim didn’t have a great answer for, merely an adequate one.  He claimed he knew nothing of the artifacts and was only retracing his Great grandfather’s steps.  He thought his story sounded plausible, but improbable.  Marcil wasn’t to be put off.  “You realize this may be theft of French property and you may be held liable?” 

“What!” Eve exploded, “…we didn’t steal anything.  In fact, we’ve found national treasures that….”  Jim reached over and put a hand on her arm.  She snapped around to look in his face, not happy being interrupted just as she was winding up for a tornadic argument with Marcil.

“Sir,” Jim said evenly, “you and I both know we didn’t steal anything.  And, you know the police are not going to prosecute us.  I suggest we return to the business of finding the sword and the other item.  I’m guessing, but I’ll bet that box held something just, or nearly, as important and valuable.” 

Marcil gritted his teeth and pressed on, Jim’s analysis not seeming to budge his thinking in the least.  “Because of your failure to bring this to the attention of the authorities…to my attention, they may now be lost!”  He seemed to be fighting down an eruption.  Jim could see his neck muscles tensing and a vein on his forehead seemed to be standing out.  Marcil stood up and returned to his chair behind the desk. 

“Madame e Monsieur, do you realize what my role is here at the museum?” he asked.  His voice had become hard, cold and calculating. 

“Well, we thought you were responsible for collecting French made art,” said Eve, starting to sense this was going to go on for awhile.

“You are correct, but there is more to that role than one would think.  As part of those responsibilities it is my duty to pursue thieves who have removed valuable and historic art work from our country.”  Marcil was sitting back in his chair now.  “And, I prosecute those responsible for such thefts.  Do I make myself clear?” 

Jim felt a hole opening in his stomach.  He glanced at Eve.  “Damn, I wish I’d let her at ‘im,” he thought.  Eve was becoming grey again.  “Well, we didn’t take anything so there’s nothing to prosecute us for,” he said.

Marcil continued.  “You may not have removed anything, but you are responsible for one of the greatest losses of French history since the Revolution.”  He sat forward and glared at them.  “Now, I must decide whether you simply were foolish Americans or had evil intent, no?”

Jim interrupted him, “We really didn’t know what we would find.  Actually, we didn’t expect to find anything.  This was really more of retracing the steps of my Great grandfather than actually looking for lost treasure.”  It was the best Jim could do, even though it did sound a bit hollow.

Marcil stared at Jim.  Seconds ticked by.  No one spoke.  Jim began to feel like he was caught in a box and didn’t know how to get out.  Finally, Marcil leaned forward on his elbows.  “Excuse me,” he said, picking up his phone.  A burst of rapid fire French filled the room.  In a moment a young man entered the office.  Marcil stood, “Renee, take these two Americans to the security department.  Take their full statement and have it stamped.  When they are finished show them to their vehicle.”  To Jim and Eve he said, “As an officer of the law of the sovereign nation of France I order you to go home.  After you are finished here you should find the next flight to the United States.  Do I make myself clear?”  Not waiting for a response he continued, “I will be notifying the law enforcement agencies of my country.  Do not interfere with my country’s history or its efforts to recover lost artifacts again.  Additionally, you are forbidden from ever entering the Louvre again.  Good day.” 

The young man named Renee lightly placed his hand on Jim’s shoulder signaling that it was time to leave.  Jim and Eve stood and began to walk out of the office.  “Hey, what about the Royal Patent, we found that and it belongs to us,” Eve said. 

“Madame, it belongs to France,”  Marcil shot back, his head never looking up.

“So, you were able to authenticate the Patent and the tube?” Jim asked. 

“Yes,” said Marcil curtly, glancing at Jim.

“How?” asked Jim, not willing to be led out of the office just yet.

Marcil slammed his pen down.  “We did an analysis of the document using fairly sophisticated techniques.  Why is that of interest?” he nearly shouted.

“Oh, it’s just that Eve is a science teacher.  Did you find anything unusual about it?” Jim replied.

“No, nothing!” Marcil snapped.

“What did you think of the portraits?” Jim insisted.  “Was there anything unusual about them?”

“They were accurate in every way.  Now please, I have work to do,” Marcil replied now looking at Jim. 

Eve’s eyebrows shot up.  “You didn’t notice anything about….” 

“Well, we’re sorry for the inconvenience and apologize to you and to France,” Jim said, deliberately cutting her off.  Jim glanced at Eve. 

She looked at him angrily.  She didn’t like to be cut off, and this was the second time in the past few minutes.  Then, she realized he had done it with purpose.  “Goodbye sir,” she said.

Marcil wasn’t looking.  His head was down and he had returned to his paperwork.

Chapter 44

I

Renee escorted them to the elevator.  They rode to the top floors of the building in silence, Eve and Jim occasionally stealing a nervous glance at the other.  Exiting the elevator on the top floor they were lead through a series of inner offices and cubicles.  Eventually reaching an office door marked “SÉCURITÉ.”  They were escorted inside by another man, separated and placed in small interrogation rooms.  Each room was equipped with a single table, a hard, straight back chair on each side and a tape recorder. 

After a thirty-minute wait two men identifying themselves as detectives of the Louvre entered the room with Eve and began to question her.  Much to her surprise the questioning didn’t take long.  In thirty minutes they were finished.  They stood, said something to each other, then to her, none of which she understood and again left her alone in the small room.  

Over an hour later Jim’s questioning was also complete.  They were allowed to rejoin each other and shown to a hard bench with a view of a bulletin board and drinking fountain.  Twenty minutes later an officer appeared holding two folders.  “Come with me,” was all the officer said. 

They were escorted to the desk of an older woman.  The desk was piled with paper, a clearing had been made in the middle of the mess.  Various pictures, souvenirs, perfume bottles and make-up containers decorated the edges and a shelf above the desk.  The officer gave her the two folders.  She studied the contents for a moment then looked at Eve and said “Madame Creenshaw?”  Eve winced and said, “Yes”.  The woman then looked at Jim, “Monsieur Creenshaw?”  Jim glanced at Eve, “Oui,” he said. 

She ordered them to raise their right hands.  When they didn’t move she muttered, then grabbed Eve’s arm and raised it to the proper position.  Turning to Jim she said, “
Comme ça
” and pointed at Eve.  Jim did as he was told.  Then she spoke rapidly in French.  Finishing her speech she stared at them expectantly.  Neither knew what she said.  Finally, in an exasperated voice she asked “
Oui ou Non
?”  Jim and Eve both said “Oui”.  At that the woman reached into her lap drawer and removed a pen and pointed it at Eve.  “
Approuvez
.”  Eve took the pen and signed the document.  The woman then did the same with Jim. 

She then removed a stamp pad and a large wooden stamp from her desk drawer.  She opened the stamp pad and with a small wind up pounded the stamp into the pad and then crashed the stamp onto their statements.  Jim glanced at Eve.  Neither mentioned that they were unable to read a single word.

Taking Eve gently by the elbow Renee escorted them to the elevator.  The doors opened and they entered.  Renee leaned in, pushed the button for the basement parking garage, said “
Au revoir
” and retreated to the hallway.  The doors closed and Jim looked at Eve.  “I’ve had better days,” he said. 

“Me too.”  Then, between gritted teeth she whispered, “I knew we couldn’t trust that jerk.”  They rode the rest of the way to the garage in silence.  They had been in the Louvre for over three hours; both Jim and Eve were tired, hungry, and mad.

II

The elevator stopped on the lower level of the parking garage.  A burst of cool air rushed in as the doors opened.  They exited, turned right and began walking to their car.  Glancing around to ensure no one was near, Eve turned on Jim.  Fire shot from her eyes as she stopped and stretched to her full five feet two inches.  “Hey, by the way, I hate it when you cut me off!  Don’t do that.  I don’t do that to you.   It’s rude.  You’re not the boss.  I get to have my say.  Jim that’s just….”

“Eve, hon, Eve…. Eve, I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?”  Eve’s explosion surprised him.

“In Marcil’s office.  He was lying to us, and I was going to let him have it.”

“Hon, listen to me a second.”  Jim was trying to keep his voice down.  “Did you hear what he said?”

“Of course I heard what he said.  I was right there.” 

“When I asked him if there was anything unusual about the paintings on the Patent?”  Jim whispered.

“Yes, he said there was nothing unusual and that the portraits were accurate in every way.  And so what, you still don’t cut….” 

“Eve! Listen to what you just said.”  Jim and Eve were stopped in the garage facing each other.

“What do you mean ‘listen to what I just said’; I heard what I said; I said it!”  The more Eve talked the angrier she got.

“You said that he said there was nothing unusual about the portraits,”  Jim said evenly. 

“Yeah…”  Eve’s voice began to show signs of doubt. 

“Exactly,” Jim replied.

“What do you mean ‘Exactly’.”  Eve allowed a trace of frustration into her voice. 

Jim glanced around and began slowly walking to the car.  “I thought you were on to him in there.  Remember, Bill said there was only one lab in North America that had the equipment and the people to do the authentication.  That was Jean’s lab in Montreal.  But, in Europe there were three or four or something like that.  Anyway, the Louvre was one of them.”  Jim was picking up steam and now having a hard time keeping his voice to a whisper.  Eve could tell his mind was racing. 

“When Jean told us about the Patent do you remember how excited she was?  She claimed the paint was unique, and she had identified the specific person who painted the document.  She was going to change history because the guy was originally on the side of the revolutionaries and here he was painting the Patent for the Royal family.  She said if her lab could do that kind of analysis then certainly the Louvre could.  Remember all that?” 

“Yeah, but I still don’t get what you’re driving at,” Eve said, a touch of impatience edging closer to daylight.

“Well, if the Louvre could identify the actual painter that did the work, why didn’t they?”  Jim asked.

Eve thought about that a minute.  “I’ll be damned.  You’re right!  What the hell?” Eve exclaimed, all anger at Jim gone. 

“Exactly!  Why did the entire Louvre laboratory staff, in the finest museum art laboratory in the world, not find anything exceptional about the paint; yet, Jean Somme at the University of Montreal called the paint extraordinary and potentially history changing?”  Jim was on a roll now. 

“Because I was right!”  Eve exclaimed.  “The guy’s a dirtball.” 

“I think that’s it exactly!” Jim agreed.  Eve smiled “Okay, you’re forgiven,” and hugged Jim.

Just then they reached their car.  Jim fished the car keys out of his pocket, unlocked Eve’s door and opened it for her.  Then he went around and got behind the steering wheel.  The car started on the first turn of the key and Jim checked his rear view mirror to ensure the path behind was clear.  Slowly a brown Mercedes S crept past the rear of the car.  Jim froze.  Eve began to say something, and he motioned for her to be quiet.  She didn’t understand and began again.  “Shhhhhh….” Jim hissed as he watched it wind through the parking garage and exit to the street.  Eve sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.  Jim could tell she was mad as hell.