by K. T. Tomb
Madame, my very dear mother,
I have not received one of your dear letters without having tears come to my eyes. I am wracked with sickness for missing my home and family and I long to see you all.
Life at Versailles has proven to be very different than in Austria, it is true that I expected it to be as such; however, the routines and ritualistic manner of how things are conducted here in general, strikes me an utter ridiculousness.
The morning after Monsieur le Dauphin and I were married, the whole world changed for me. Scores of women, and even some men, invaded my bedchamber, insisting that allowing them to wait on me was customary. I was attended by easily thirty courtiers that morning and it took almost all morning just to get me into a single completed outfit.
Marie.
***
“What can I do for you, Miss Stone?” Laurette LeFebvre, curator of the royal collection at the Louvre asked after Lana and Chyna had greeted her. “We had sure hoped that the armor of Eleanor of Aquitaine that you recovered would one day find its way to our collection. It was very unfortunate that it has gone missing again.”
Lana had known Laurette since the two of them had studied abroad together as university students. Though Laurette was very familiar with Chyna, it had been their first meeting together.
“Very unfortunate,” Chyna smiled. She was working on forming the words that would explain the reason for her visit. Coming right out with her purpose wasn’t really an option; it required a certain amount of savoir faire to approach.
“Perhaps there is some other great treasure that you’ve uncovered which you’d like to add to our collection, then?”
“It isn’t that, exactly,” Chyna responded. “I’d like to ask some questions about a piece that you already have in your collection.”
“I’d be happy to answer questions about any of our pieces.”
Chyna hesitated for a moment and then decided to forge ahead. “We are interested in information about the Jeweled Crown of Marie Antoinette.”
Chyna watched Laurette’s face go pale, watched her swallow a lump in her throat and then lean forward across her desk and speak in a low tone as her eyes dodged back and forth between Lana and Chyna. “Why are you interested in that particular item?”
Chyna leaned forward and matched Laurette’s tone. “We have been informed that it has been stolen.”
“Had been stolen,” Laurette corrected.
Chyna looked at Lana and then back to Laurette. “What do you mean?”
“It arrived back here this morning in a neatly packaged parcel. Without a return address, of course. Do you have knowledge about who might have had it in their possession?”
“We do not,” Chyna replied.
“Things have been maddening around here after the theft. To pull off such a feat, with our security system…”
Chyna decided to let the other shoe drop. “It’s a good thing that it was only a replica, right?”
“You’re telling me…” She froze, realizing that she had just confirmed something that no one else was supposed to have knowledge of.
“Relax, Laurette,” Lana jumped in. “We already knew it was a replica.”
“But, how?”
“Don’t ask,” Lana smiled. “You really don’t want to know and you really shouldn’t be that surprised either. I mean, look who you’re talking to right now.”
The curator sighed at her faux pas. “I’m really not comfortable having this conversation,” Laurette responded, shifting in her chair. “It hasn’t been pleasant around here the past few days and there have been a lot of accusations about the heist having been an inside job.”
“We don’t want to talk about the heist,” Chyna rejoined. “We want to ask about the original crown.”
“I don’t think it is appropriate for me to be having this discussion with you. Even given your credentials, Miss Stone, I…”
“How about I just ask yes or no questions and you give me a response?” Chyna broke in, afraid that if she didn’t do something quick, Laurette would clam up on them and they would have wasted their time.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s very simple. If we come to something that makes you uncomfortable, then you can just nod or shake your head, if you prefer.”
“Miss Stone, please.”
Chyna stood for emphasis. “Please. This is very important. The FBI has knowledge of someone trying to get their hands on the original crown. They’ve already made an attempt on what they thought was the original and discovered that it wasn’t. We have to recover the original before they do. There are very grave consequences if we don’t, correct?” She had gone well beyond what she knew to be the truth, but Chyna could see that her words had sunk in.
“Yes or no questions, then,” Laurette agreed.
Chyna considered how to word the series of questions that she has so that she could get the most information possible out of such a simple answer. The first one was an easy one.
“Did the Louvre ever have the authentic crown?”
Laurette nodded.
That was helpful. She had at least eliminated a portion of the 225 years since Marie had last been seen wearing it.
“Was it stolen?”
Laurette nodded.
“Stolen from the Louvre?”
She received another positive response.
“When?” Chyna rushed ahead with her next question without thinking.
Laurette only stared at her.
She fired off the next question in order to start narrowing down the date. “This century?”
She received a nod.
Chyna realized that she still sometimes forgot that they were in the beginning of a new century and that she often considered herself still living in the 20th century. She clarified with another question. “Since 2000?”
“Yes,” Laurette replied.
“This decade?” she asked.
Laurette nodded.
“So, since 2010?” she clarified.
“Yes.”
“This year?”
Laurette shook her head.
“Last year?”
Another shake.
“The year before that?”
Laurette nodded.
“So, 2014?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to tell us that the authentic crown had been stolen in 2014?”
Laurette nodded, her smile broadened and then she burst into laughter. Lana and Chyna couldn’t keep from joining her.
When she had gotten control of herself again, Chyna asked another question. “Was there an investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Are we going to continue with the yes/no stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Who headed that investigation?”
Laurette shrugged.
“Shit, really, Laurette?” She’d have to have an entire list of investigators to go through if she was going to get a name. “Can you just write down the name and then eat the paper or something?”
“Ew, no,” Laurette replied, making a face. She took a pen and sticky note and scribbled down a name, passing it to Chyna. “The glue tastes disgusting.”
“Oh Jesus,” Chyna whispered when she saw the name on the paper. She showed it to Lana and then wadded the paper into a tiny ball.
“Seriously?” Lana responded.
“What?” Laurette asked. “Who is that?”
“More of the stuff you don’t want to know,” Lana responded.
“You have been an enormous help,” Chyna said, rising from her seat and extending her hand toward Laurette.
“I don’t see how, but I’m glad to have been of assistance,” she responded, rising and taking Chyna’s hand.
“When we have recovered it,” Chyna said, careful not to be specific in case anyone was listening, which she assumed was the only reason she could come up with for Laurette’s behavior, “we’ll make sure to put it back in your hands personally.”<
br />
“I would be eternally grateful if you did,” Laurette replied.
Lana and Chyna departed from Laurette’s office and were escorted to the door by her receptionist. They spoke of casual things until they were outside and walked down the sidewalk toward the rented Range Rover and the two giant security guards leaning against it.
“Isn’t Antoine Dubois that guy who Tony called to help us out when we were in Bordeaux?” Lana asked.
“One and the same,” Chyna replied.
Chapter Seven
It was a twisted up mess and Chyna wasn’t sure how to process it.
On the one hand, it implicated Tony in the theft of the authentic crown, but on the other, it didn’t make sense that he would try to steal a crown that he knew wasn’t there or already had. It made her dizzy trying to figure out all of the different reasons why he might try to steal a crown that he knew wasn’t real in order to make someone think that he was stealing the authentic one.
“He could just be setting us up?” Lana commented, having read her mind.
“That was actually my first consideration,” Chyna said. “If that’s the case, then there is really no point in pursuing this any further.”
“Which isn’t the case, because he’s trying to draw you into something and he would know that you would draw that conclusion first and quit investigating,” Lana replied.
“You realize that you’re scaring the hell out of me, right?”
“Why?”
“Cause that is the same twisted shit that’s been going through my head. I’m getting a headache.”
Lana pulled out a tin which had previously held mints, popped the lid open and extended the container with its red and white capsules toward Chyna. “Extra-strength.”
“Thanks,” Chyna said. She took two of the capsules and downing them with a long swig on a bottle of water. “How about we table this and throw it out there to the rest of the team back at the hotel?”
“Ah, come on,” Lana teased. “You and I are the brains of this operation.”
“Yeah, and I’m already fried. Sandra’s gone into Dad’s old files back in New York. He had a collection of French Revolution-era documents, including some of the queen’s own correspondence. I’ve asked her to read through what we have in case there’re any clues in there.”
“Clues?”
“Hey, I’m clutching at straws here. Tony said the artifacts hold some metaphysical properties and that’s what this fellow is gathering them for. Maybe something in the papers will clue us in. I’ll get Oscar and Mark started on some research, and then I’m going to close my eyes and just veg until we get back to the suite.”
Chyna speed dialed Oscar.
“Yes, your highness?” Oscar said, answering the call.
Chyna ignored him. She wasn’t in the mood to play. “Can you start putting together a list of active, known thieves and fences for high-end artifacts from about 2012 to present?”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“And I got something else.” Chyna scrambled to get in her next request before he disconnected the call.
“Talk to me.”
“Can you get Mark started looking into Antoine Dubois?”
“Isn’t that the guy…?”
“Yes, that’s the guy,” Chyna answered, cutting off his question. “We’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”
“We’re on it,” he replied. He hesitated. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, has Sirita started lunch yet?”
“She has and it smells great.”
“Alright. Thanks, cowboy.” She disconnected the call, leaned back into the headrest and closed her eyes.
Thorin and Demetri escorted Lana and Chyna through a back entrance and onto a private elevator that took them to the floor where their suite was located. As they entered the suite, Chyna was already feeling a little bit better, especially when whatever it was that Sirita was cooking penetrated her nostrils.
“God, I hope that’s ready,” Chyna commented.
“It is,” Sirita replied. “I’ll serve lunch and you can tell us what you learned.”
“Actually, I’m more interested in what Oscar and Mark have learned,” Chyna answered. “Specifically, Mark.”
“Antoine seems to be very well connected within the French national police as well as Interpol. I haven’t found a connection between him and anything shady up to this point.”
“Keep digging,” Chyna said. “I know it’s there. If he in tight with Tony, then there is something shady.”
“It might be helpful for you to tell them why we’re looking at Antoine,” Lana suggested.
“You’re right,” Chyna responded. “Sorry guys. I’ll get you up to speed. The authentic crown was at the Louvre, but it was stolen in 2014. The Louvre is a little bit strange when it comes to that sort of thing and they like to keep things very quiet. An investigator was assigned to the case and that investigator is none other than Antoine Dubois, whom all of you know is tight with Tony. That throws open a myriad of possibilities that has my head spinning.
“The important part is to keep our eyes, ears and all other senses open for any place where Tony can pop up and surprise us.”
“We don’t trust him any more than you do, Chyna,” Mark responded.
“Good. That mistrust will keep us on our toes. I don’t need to remind you all that we have to assume that we’re grabbing a lion by the beard and only have a club as a weapon. Oscar?”
As promised, Sirita, with Lana’s help began passing out plates with the lasagna that she had made famous among the group. Chyna dug in and listened to Oscar, who continued to talk even after he started eating, sometimes having to repeat things that hadn’t come out clearly due to trying to speak with his mouth full.
“But none of this is anything that Interpol doesn’t already have. A lot of it came from them,” Oscar said after he’d finished giving them a list of names during the time frame she’d asked.
“That’s why I’m suspicious of Antoine’s involvement in this, not to mention his connection with Tony. The puzzling part is that either Tony had no knowledge of Antoine’s connection to it or he did know and he’s playing us. The replica was stolen a few nights ago and returned today by parcel.”
“So, maybe Tony is on the level?” Sirita asked.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“I’m just saying, that if he really is undercover and had the crown stolen, for whatever reason, returning it would, sort of, be a way of showing that he’s on the level, right?”
Though it rubbed her wrong, she had to admit that it was a possibility. “She’s right, but we can’t trust that. If he’s on the level, it will become evident at some point. If he’s not, then we have to stay on our toes and figure out what angle he’s playing.”
“We can eliminate the thieves on Oscar’s list,” Lana pointed out. “They’re just pawns in the game. The fences are the best link. There are fewer of them and they tend to be easier to track down.”
“But they usually have their asses well covered,” Chyna added. The fog in her brain was clearing up as they talked it out. “Ass covering would be the perfect job for someone like Antoine.”
“Fax just in!” Oscar called out. “It’s from Sandra and it looks really old.”
Chyna grabbed the piece of paper and laughed. “It’s from my dad’s notes, you dimwit! You know, back in the old timey days when people still used pen and paper and wrote in cursive and used phrases like ‘fixin’ to’?”
“Hey… people still say ‘fixin’ to’!”
Lana laughed and went to take a look over Chyna’s shoulder at the piece of paper.
“It’s the personal letters and diary of our girl,” Chyna said.
“Yup,” Lana confirmed.
“She found the papers! I guess we’ll be getting anything she thinks might be helpful or insightful. This is just the first piece.”
Chapter Eight
Diary of the Queen
16 May 1770
I woke up this morning as the Dauphine of France, and my life has changed completely.
Yesterday, I was the prince’s intended but today as his wife, I am the future queen and apparently, there are schedules which I must now follow and a particular way in which these scheduled activities must be conducted.
I have gone over the tremendous schedule the Comtesse de Noailles, or Madame Etiquette as I have so named her, has presented to me. If ever there was a picture of ridiculousness, it is both the formal rules of protocol and precedence as well as the encultured rules like table manners which define life at Versailles. My least favorite of which is Grand Couvert; what an immense bore. It seems to me a grand orchestration of a means by which one might never find a way to offend other people. As if once completely controlled by the rules, and controlling oneself, the outcome will be to prevent other people from being disgusted or shocked.
I wish I could have thrown her list away but it seems that I must learn it before I can do that.
Marie.
***
After eating their meal in relative silence, the team regrouped around the table to take stock as they usually did in the beginning phases of an investigation.
“Suppose we put together some sort of a sting,” Sirita began. “You know, an innocent looking couple looking for something for their private collection. If they go out and start rattling the cages on some of these fences, then wouldn’t that draw somebody out? Especially, if they were asking for artifacts from the French monarchy or even asking for the crown itself?”
“She has something there,” Mark commented. “We can narrow down our list to fences that have been known to move such things and cross reference that with cases that Antoine has been involved in. That would help my excavating enormously.”
“It will also alert Tony to the fact that we’re in the game,” Chyna responded.
They all stared at her.
“You’re going to have to explain what you’re thinking,” Oscar suggested. “We Southerners can’t always keep up with you Yankees on everything.”
“You keep up just fine, Cowboy,” she laughed. “But I’ll explain it anyway. If we’re going to catch Tony and undo whatever it is that he’s into, we have to let him know that we’ve taken his bait and we’re playing his game. It’s sort of like the Roadrunner, stepping in the trap so that he can draw the coyote out to see why the trap didn’t work, right?”