Assault and Beret

by Jenn McKinlay

  Viv and I waited while he returned the painting to the vault. She didn’t say anything and I didn’t press it. I was sure she must have a lot on her mind and it wouldn’t help if I pestered her about everything.

  “Thank you for humoring me,” William said. He closed up the vault behind us. “Since the courts decided that we could hold the painting here until its ownership is determined, I’ve been dying to show it off to someone. I’m so glad it was you.”

  He was talking to Viv, not me. The air got thick and I knew when it was time to exit stage left.

  “I’ll just wait for you two out—”

  They charged each other and were already lip locked before I finished my sentence. I turned on my heel and headed out to the hallway, where all good chaperones cooled their heels while their wards made out, or snogged, as Viv would say.

  The hallway was quiet and dark. There was no sign of the security guard. I took out my phone and noted that it was later than I thought. I wondered if Suzette would wait up for us. If it was me, I would, but then, I do have that nosiness issue.

  I debated texting Harry but then changed my mind. I didn’t want to explain that Viv was making out with her husband, because Harry was best mates with Alistair and I didn’t want him to feel weird about the whole thing. Oh, no, I was going to keep the weirdness all to myself. Yay, me.

  Instead, I decided to text my best pals, Andre Eisel and Nick Carroll. They were my first friends in Notting Hill when I returned to London and we’d been through quite a lot ever since that first meeting. Andre was a photographer who ran a studio down the street from our hat shop while his partner, Nick, was a dentist. I knew if anyone would appreciate my dilemma, it was them.

  Help. I’ve been tossed into a hallway while Viv smooches her husband.

  I knew that they might be out and miss my text so I tried to think of what else I could do while I waited for Viv. My phone chimed and I glanced down to see the screen lighting up.

  Our Viv can be rather mouthy. That was from Nick. I smiled.

  I hope she tells him how she really feels and isn’t just giving him lip service. And that was from Andre. My smile widened.

  The punsters were in full gag mode, and judging by the string of emojis after each text, they were having a grand time. I felt the need to join in the fun, which for the record never goes well for me.

  I’m sure it’s on the tip of her tongue, I texted back and heard crickets, as in nothing. I texted again. Oh, come on, that was a good one.

  Still nothing. Then a picture came through and it was a selfie picture of Nick and Andre giving me dead bored stares. Ha! I knew they were just giving me a hard time, and it made me laugh and miss them terribly.

  Idiots. XOXO, I texted back.

  Just then the door opened and a very flustered Viv stepped out with Will right behind her. They both looked a wee bit disheveled and they were grinning like fools. On the one hand, I was happy for Viv, but on the other hand, it sure made me miss Harry.

  “Sorry about that, we were—” Will started to apologize but I waved it off.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I know you have stuff . . .”

  This time my voice trailed off in embarrassment. They exchanged an amused glance and Will took Viv’s hand in his and led the way down the dark hallway, leaving me to follow. I stifled a sigh, barely.

  “I’m sorry I can’t escort you all the way home,” Will said. “The pressure is on for me to authenticate that piece so I’m afraid I’ll have to work into the night.”

  “It’s fine,” Viv said.

  Personally, since things had gotten hot and heavy between them, I figured it was just as well that they separate for a little while so Viv could get her sea legs.

  We stepped back out into the cold, and I pulled on my gloves and tightened the scarf about my throat. William closed the door behind us, and as we left through the side exit, I saw the guard through the window standing in the front office drinking a mug of coffee or maybe tea.

  The night air was turning bitter so we didn’t linger but hurried back into the car that was parked and waiting for us. The driver saw us coming and hopped out of the car to open the door for us.

  I climbed in and then I heard Will tell the driver that he’d get the door. At least that’s what I think he said because the driver said, “Oui, Monsieur,” and went back to his driver’s seat while Viv and Will loitered outside the car.

  I exchanged an embarrassed look in the rearview mirror with the driver. The car was warm but the open door was making it drafty and it was all I could do not to encourage Viv to get her derrière, see, I was picking up the language, into the car.

  I debated pulling out my phone again but resisted. Mostly, because I was sure they wouldn’t linger over their good-bye in the cold. I was wrong. There was the distinct sound of smooching and I saw the driver smile.

  “L’amour jeune,” he said. I knew enough French to know he said, “Young love.”

  I nodded but in my head I was thinking Viv was a little old to be playing the young love card and so was Will. I glanced at the driver. He had gray at his temples and his face was lined and it seemed more from worry than laughter. That made me feel bad for him. I wondered if he’d always been a driver for a living or if his backstory had more to it.

  I would never know. While I debated our driver’s life story, the sound of screeching tires drew my attention, and I glanced up to see a sleek black vehicle, much like the one Emile St. James had been in earlier that evening, come careening around the corner.

  I heard Will swear, and when I glanced out of the car, he was taking Viv’s arms from around his neck and pushing her into the car.

  “Allez! Rapidement!” he snapped at our driver. The other car stopped near ours and Will stepped back and shut the door.

  “Will!” Viv cried. That was all she got out as our driver threw the car into reverse, trying to back away from the car that was blocking us.

  Viv and I stared out the window, watching as two men in dark clothes approached Will. He immediately put his fists up in a fighter’s stance.

  “Stop!” Viv cried. She reached forward and slapped the driver on the shoulder. “Arretez!”

  The driver shot her a look as if he thought she might hit him again, then he shoved the car into drive and stomped on the gas.

  “No!” Viv cried.

  She turned and pressed herself against the window. I did, too. We were just in time to see the two men jump Will, subdue him, and toss him into the back of the car before it drove off.

  Our driver, clearly terrified, took off in the other direction, taking rapid turns at a breakneck pace, which flung Viv and me across the backseat like a couple of rag dolls.

  “Stop!” Viv shouted. “That is my husband. We must follow that car. We must stop them.”

  The driver gave her a look like she was crazy, but he did pull over and stop the car. In thickly accented English, he said, “Get out!”

  Chapter 11

  “Do you have William’s number?” Viv asked. Her voice was amazingly calm, given that we’d just been dumped on an obscure side street and her husband had been abducted.

  “Yes,” I said. He had texted me about the restaurant. I turned on my phone and showed it to her. She didn’t hesitate but punched the number into her phone and began to pace while she waited for him to pick up.

  “It’s going straight to voice mail,” she said.

  “That means he’s either using it, its battery is dead or it’s shut off,” I said.

  Viv left a quick message to call her and then ended the call.

  It was cold and dark and the street seemed ominously quiet. I glanced around, hoping to see a Metro sign in sight. There was nothing. Our driver had ditched us in a neighborhood in Paris I had never seen before.

  “I can’t believe that driver just abandoned us,” Viv s
aid. “I’m going to report him.”

  “Not really our biggest problem right now,” I said. “What’s the emergency number in France?”

  I had my phone out and I was trying to remember what number to call. I had no idea.

  “One-one-two, same as back home.” Viv had her phone in hand as well and began to tap in the numbers.

  “I thought it was nine-nine-nine in the UK,” I said.

  “It is. It’s also one-one-two, which is what most European countries use,” she said. “Oh, hello, yes, an English speaker, please.”

  While Viv proceeded to describe what had just happened to the emergency dispatcher on the phone, I decided to call Harrison. He was our business manager; he would want to know what was happening to us. Okay, yeah, and I just wanted to hear his voice so I could calm down.

  “Hello, Ginger,” he answered on the second ring.

  “Harry, thank goodness,” I said. I tried to keep my voice even, but hearing his voice made my emotions rise up, giving my voice the wobbles.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? Are you safe?”

  “We’re fine,” I said at the same time that Viv said the same thing to the dispatcher.

  She gave me a look and I said, “Harry.” She nodded and returned her attention back to her phone.

  “What’s happening, Ginger?”

  Quickly, I told him about Will taking us to dinner and showing us the painting at his office and then how when we left the office, Will was abducted and our driver dumped us on the side of the road in Paris and that Viv was on the phone with the Paris Police at the moment.

  “I’m calling a cab to come and pick you up,” he said. “Have Viv tell the police to meet you at your apartment building.”

  “But—” I began but he interrupted me.

  “No buts,” he said. “Tell her.”

  I tugged on Viv’s sleeve and told her what he said. She nodded. She looked relieved that someone had a plan.

  “Okay, I told her,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. “Now tell me where you are exactly.”

  I glanced at the corner. It was a whacky intersection with five roads all converging and there was no signage. I studied the buildings all around me and noticed that there was a café behind me, closed for the night, but maybe the name would be enough of a landmark.

  “I know we’re in the fourth arrondissement,” I said. “We’re standing in front of a place called La Vie de Café.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “I’ll send someone for you. Do not move.”

  “Thanks, Harry,” I said.

  “Call me if anything alarms you for any reason,” he said.

  “I will,” I said.

  I ended the call and glanced at Viv. She was fretting her lower lip between her teeth and staring out into the night as if she could conjure Will out of the darkness.

  “What did the police say?” I asked.

  “They seem quite unconcerned,” she said. “They kept asking me if I was sure Will was abducted or if he might have willingly gotten into the other car. I don’t think they believed me. Still, they’re going to send someone around to our apartment to talk to us.”

  “Harrison said he was sending a car to collect us,” I said.

  “Thank goodness for him,” she said. I wholeheartedly agreed.

  “What do you think happened?” I asked. “Do you think it was Emile St. James, the collector who pulled him out of dinner to talk about the painting, maybe he won’t take no for an answer?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. She reached out and grabbed my hand. “I’m frightened for him, Scarlett.”

  “I know,” I said. I squeezed her hand hard and then let go so I could wrap an arm about her. She looked scared and cold and lonely, and I didn’t know what to say or do to make it any better. I kissed her head and then I lied, because that’s what you do in situations like this, and said, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll find him. I promise.”

  * * *

  Suzette opened the door to us with a big smile, looking eager to hear about Viv’s reunion with her husband. The looks on our faces must have alerted her to how horribly awry the night had gone because she reached out and grabbed our hands and pulled us into the drawing room.

  “Oh, chères,” she said. “What is it? What happened?”

  “Will,” Viv said. Her voice sounded small and fragile. “He was taken, abducted right in front of us.”

  Suzette looked at me and I nodded. “It’s true. Have the police been here?”

  “No,” she said. She glanced between Viv and me, looking worried. “Come in and have a brandy, it will settle your nerves.”

  Sounded like a plan to me. We followed her into the drawing room, where a fire was crackling and the room was mercifully empty of other guests.

  There was a decanter of Calvados on a tray with several small glasses. She poured one and handed it to Viv. I noticed Viv’s fingers were shaking when she took the glass. Suzette handed me one as well. I didn’t take a drink but was grateful to have something to do with my hands.

  “Sit, sit,” Suzette insisted.

  It was nice to have someone telling us what to do. The cab driver that Harrison had sent to pick us up arrived swiftly but spoke no English, so it was a fretful ride through Paris as we wondered what had happened to William and what we should do about it.

  Viv took a bracing sip of the brandy and then told Suzette everything that happened. She told her about the painting and how William had walked us out, about how the big dark car arrived and Will had looked prepared to fight but they snatched him instead. Then she told her how the driver had abandoned us and that when Viv called the police, they didn’t feel as if there was much to go on, so they said to go home and they would send someone to talk to us.

  Suzette listened with her eyes wide and a hand to her throat as if she just couldn’t believe that such a thing had happened.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I am so sorry that your husband was taken, but what a brave man, to push you into the car and insist that the driver take you away from the danger. I am so very glad the two of you were not harmed. The world is a terrifying place sometimes.”

  I knew she was referring to the terrorist attacks that had happened in Paris in the recent years. Random violence, hatred, culture clashes, power struggles, it changed things whether we all acknowledged it or not.

  Viv and I took off our coats and settled in to wait for the police. Suzette stayed with us, leaving only to go and make a cheese plate for us to snack on while we waited. I was too full from our amazing dinner to be hungry, but I was so anxious from what happened, I found myself comfort eating a thick slice of Brie on a crusty piece of French bread.

  Even Viv picked at a few of the small grapes on the plate. She rose from her seat to pace a few times and checked her phone once or twice as she had given the police dispatcher her number. We debated calling again, but it seemed pointless since they hadn’t been very encouraging the first time we called.

  As my adrenaline ebbed and the Calvados and cheese worked their magic on me, I found myself dozing on the couch. I was worried about Will but I was also exhausted. Feeling powerless to do anything to help him, exhaustion was winning the battle for my consciousness and I felt my head bobble on my neck a few times before I gave up and let it rest on the back of my seat. I was just going to close my eyes for a second, I promised myself.

  The buzzer from the foyer sounded and I snapped upright. It took me a second to get oriented, and when I did, I noticed that Viv and Suzette were doing the same. We all must have sacked out. The buzzer sounded again and Suzette jumped up to answer it.

  “Wait here,” she said.

  “It’s probably the police,” I said to Viv. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall. We’d been
back at the apartment building for two hours. “Not that I think they can help. In all of the chaos, I never got a look at the men who grabbed Will. I don’t know the make and model of the car or the license plate.”

  “Me either,” Viv said. She sounded despondent.

  We sat waiting for several minutes. I was just about to go and see what the holdup was when I heard Suzette and a man, speaking in rapid French. My heart banged up into my throat. I knew that voice.

  Harrison Wentworth strode into the room, and I was pretty sure my heart was going to explode out of my chest.

  “Harry!” I cried. It wasn’t a fully formed thought. It was pure instinct. I jumped up from my seat and ran across the room and threw myself into his arms.

  Chapter 12

  “All right, Ginger?”

  He didn’t even rock back from the impact. He just folded me into him, hugging me tight, and for the first time I realized how truly frightened I’d been by the whole encounter. The familiar bay rum and citrus scent of him was infinitely reassuring, as was the steadying look in his bright green eyes.

  I stepped back from him even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, and moved aside so that Viv could have a hug as well. I knew she likely needed it more than I did, but it was still very difficult to share.

  Suzette was watching us and I explained, “This is Harrison Wentworth, our business manager.”

  She nodded. “He said as much, but I was worried that perhaps he was one of the abductors.”

  Oh, sure, there was a part of me that would be more than happy to be abducted by Harrison. I thought it spoke well of me that I didn’t say as much.

  “We’ll get it sorted, Viv, I promise,” Harrison said. He was holding her by her upper arms and staring intently into her face. She looked confident for the first time all evening.

  I knew exactly how she felt. With Harrison here, it seemed as if everything would be all right. Speaking of which, I had to ask.

  “How did you get here so fast?”