Spoils of the Game

by Lee Lamond

  Vassar rose from his chair. “Monsieur Clay, I have to leave to catch a plane, and I believe that I have left you in good hands. When you have advanced your plans a little more, I would love to learn the details. Please identify what you think might be obstacles that I could help with. The Louvre has many friends and many ways to get things done.”

  Austin shook Vassar’s hand, and Badeau, Madeline, and Austin headed for the door. Badeau turned and asked Austin and Madeline to join him in his office.

  The meeting in Vassar’s office had been slightly awkward. Austin didn’t like exposing his thinking prematurely, but he respected Vassar, and Vassar had appeared to give his support. It was clear that Badeau might be a little uncomfortable because Austin was getting a license to invade his department and utilize one of his employees.

  Badeau’s office was smaller and much less organized. It also had the benefit of an inventory of art, but in Badeau’s case, the collection was limited to a few pieces of Renaissance art.

  “Monsieur Clay, I have gathered a few things that might be of interest or of value in your efforts.”

  On Badeau’s desk was a box that contained several books from the Louvre bookstore. Austin accepted the offering graciously, but the gesture seemed to be a little forced, and perhaps it was all the help that Badeau had originally planned to give.

  “Monsieur Clay you know that you have our support. Call me if I can address any specific needs.”

  “Thank you very much,” replied Austin, who was trying to seem genuine. “It may be a few weeks before my plan is suitable to present to Monsieur Vassar, and until then, I think the amount of assistance I may require will be minimal.”

  Austin was careful to mention Vassar’s name. Through the good fortune of the morning’s meeting, he had been given the support of Badeau’s boss, and if he had to, he would use that commitment. Austin’s wife, Susan, had met Badeau, and he was not one of her favorite people; regardless of what Vassar said, she had felt he was sneaky and couldn’t be trusted. Looking at Badeau, Austin could hear his dead wife’s warnings in his ears.

  Badeau extended his hand and stated again his pleasure in meeting Austin Clay. It was clear that Badeau had other things to do, or perhaps he just wanted the meeting to end. Austin took the box of books and turned to leave the office with Madeline walking behind him.

  “Madeline, could you please stay for a minute?” asked Badeau.

  “Monsieur Clay, I’ll be with you in a moment,” said Madeline who appeared to be a little disturbed.

  In about three minutes Madeline left Badeau’s office and said nothing to Austin. It was clear that she was disturbed, if not angry.

  “Monsieur Clay,” said Madeline. “I want to take you downstairs and get you your security pass so you can wander the museum at will. Tomorrow we will go down to some of the other offices and workshops and introduce you to some of the people that keep things going. Monsieur Badeau has called a department meeting this afternoon, so I will have to let you be on your own.”

  The security department gave Austin an RFID card with his picture and a lanyard that allowed him to wear the badge around his neck. He now looked official, and he hoped that no one would ask him questions. This was perhaps Austin’s tenth visit to this museum, but he still relied on a map to guide him. Wandering the museum, he saw many people, but so few were really studying the art, and those who were tourists were on missions to see a few key paintings or pieces of sculpture within a very tight schedule. The Louvre, like so many sights in Paris, needed to be savored. To run through the building, following a guide who was carrying a flag to keep the group together, was strangely sad to Austin. It was almost an insult to the museum, but they did bring in cash.

  Austin seated himself in a large room with various eighteenth-century paintings, each under a soft light to display yet protect. There was so much to see, so much to study. Austin spent perhaps ten minutes studying a large painting showing life during the French Revolution and then moved on to the next painting in the hall. He repeated the process in a slow and deliberate effort to appreciate what was before him. The scene, context, history, structure, scale, colors, brushwork, and purpose of each painting needed study. Even the still lifes had so much to say. A simple scene of food on a table could have been painted yesterday, but the details revealed its age. The candles in the corner and the plates and silverware put the history in context. The presentation of the food, including pheasant and wild boar, suggested that the food did not come from a local grocery, but instead was the result of a recent hunt. Larger scenes showed life in small villages and the interaction of the people. In some, life was good, and in many, life was more difficult. Not only was the subject matter or story being told; also shown was the skill of the artist to define the view. Within perhaps two centuries, the techniques had changed; images were more three-dimensional, colors were stronger, and the personalities of the lucky few that had been immortalized in the paintings were more real. All around Austin Clay was the emergence of Western culture, from the days of the Dark Ages to conquest and war. It was there for all to see, provided they took the time.

  It was about six that evening when Madeline approached him.

  “How did you find me?” asked Austin, who was very surprised and very pleased.

  “It was simple. I went to the security office. See the cameras in the ceiling?”

  “Yes,” said Austin, looking at the four in the ceiling above him.

  “I found you in about fifteen seconds. Your dark blue shirt made it simple.”

  Austin laughed.

  “What are your dinner plans?” said Madeline.

  “Ah, I didn’t have any. Are you inviting me to dinner?”

  “Sure, why not? We’ll charge it to the museum, and I need a break.”

  Austin was surprised by her assertiveness, but he had no other plans, and if he was honest with himself, he was finding her very attractive. She didn’t need to twist his arm too much.

  Madeline led Austin out of the museum to a small restaurant within walking distance of the Louvre. It was one that she knew and one where she was known. It was an older restaurant in a part of the city where only locals went for a good meal. The interior went back to before World War II, and the place was as much an antique as it was a restaurant. They were seated at a table by a window that gave a view of the street and the spring rain that was beginning to fall. Austin studied his hostess for the evening, and it was apparent that she needed a good glass of wine. He took the lead and ordered a bottle.

  “So why does my favorite Louvre employee need a break, as you said?” asked Austin with a touch of sympathy. It was a casual but probing statement aimed at conversation, but he never expected the result.

  Madeline looked out the window, trying to put together her feelings. If Austin had studied her closely, he would have seen the beginning of a tear forming in one of her eyes.

  “I don’t mean to intrude, but you look upset or a little mad,” said Austin. Would you rather that we reschedule for another night?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  Austin again had the advantage of a perspective given to him by Susan. Madeline had been very helpful in the past, and the two women had gotten to know each other very well. On more than one occasion, the two women had talked about girl stuff, and Susan had known that Madeline was not a happy person. She was burdened with both personal and work issues, but she didn’t have the means to make the changes she needed.

  “I’m not a priest,” said Austin, “but if it is something I can help with …?”

  “Please excuse my English, but I hate working for an idiot,” said Madeline. “You have been in business in the United States for many years, and I assume that you have idiots in the States.”

  “Oh, yes, we have a lifetime supply.”

  Madeline paused a second to finish her glass of wine. “It’s not appropriate to discuss this with you, especially on your first day, but I sense that we can talk. I respected your
wife and confided in her, and I just sense that I can talk with you. If I’m wrong, let me know. I have to talk with someone, and I hate being a bother, but I’m so angry.”

  Austin was pleased and honored that Madeline had selected him to be her confidant. In her blue eyes was a pleading that needed to be answered.

  “Claude Badeau has been my boss for about two years, and within the first week I had lost all respect for him,” she said. “He plays power games, and some think that he may know art, but he can’t manage people. There’s so much tension, and he’s always trying to look good without caring what he does to people. He’s a liar, and I have strong concerns about his honesty. The man is in charge of millions of euros of museum resources, and I just have this feeling that he’s ripping off the place.”

  Austin was amazed that Madeline was being so outspoken to a person that the clock would call a stranger, but in reality it was his fault. People learned to confide in Austin Clay and trusted his analytical thinking, his honesty, and his strength. He also suspected that Madeline didn’t have anyone that she could really talk to, that would allow her to unload.

  Again she paused and looked out at the rain. Then she looked at Austin. “I hope my words don’t shock you or make you feel uncomfortable. You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer.”

  Austin was not unfamiliar with political problems, but he made every effort to keep needless interpersonal crap out of his company. Being a builder of people, he wanted to ask Madeline a few questions intended to reinforce her own feelings about herself. But first he wanted her to vent.

  She continued, “Six of us worked on a study and a new budget proposal that included some excellent ideas. And when he submitted the document, only his name was on it. When one of the people in the department made a comment, he suggested that they find another job. We’re really tired of his treatment, and we are not sure what to do. I know that he has made advances on some of the women in the office, but he won’t try that with me, because he knows I will kill him.”

  Austin laughed.

  “He is very well connected in the museum,” she said. “I’m not so concerned about me—I can get a job in a shop or something. But there are others who really need their job. He takes trips on museum business, and they are actually vacations, and we think he has a mistress in Lyon. His wife has an art investment company or something, and that has caused some problems. I just have no respect, and I can’t even look at him.”

  Austin poured Madeline another glass of wine.

  “At our meeting today,” she continued, “he insulted one of the women that works with us, and it was so unnecessary. She was so upset, and I felt so bad for her. She made a simple request, and he went crazy. I’m telling you that someday he’ll be found out. He lives quite well—better than his salary should allow. We had some paintings stolen a few weeks ago, and he seemed a little too concerned, and we all think that he was probably the one that stole them.” Her words were sarcastic, but Austin thought she might believe it.

  Austin sipped his wine while looking directly at Madeline. “Would you like to see him disappear?” he said quietly.

  Madeline looked at Austin, seeming a little confused. “Are you with the Mafia or something?” she asked with some concern in her voice.

  “No, no. Do I look Italian?” said Austin with a smile. “Let me think about it. I have no time for people that make the world difficult. If it helps you at all, my wife always thought he was a phony. Madeline, I really understand what you’re saying, and I hate to see you so upset. I haven’t known you very long, but I already respect you. My wife thought you were wonderful, and she always looked forward to meeting with you on each of her visits. She talked about you often, and I guess that is why I feel so comfortable with you. Let me ask you a very self-serving question before we explore how to make your life better. Will Badeau be an asset or a problem for my project?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to let you make that decision. You have the support of Vassar, and that is much more important.”

  Austin said, “I know that we’ve met in the past, but when I met you at the airport, you impressed me again. You were very professional and very organized. When I hire people, I look for these characteristics. Let me tell you a little more about you, if I might. You don’t require a great deal of supervision. You understand the job to be done, perhaps better than the people you report to. You don’t need to be told what to do—you just do it. You take on responsibility above your pay grade. Given the chance, you could probably do better at your boss’s job than he does.”

  Madeline looked at Austin like she had just been discovered naked. She was surprised that he was as outspoken as she was; also, he was perhaps correct.

  “Am I going too far too soon?” asked Austin.

  Madeline looked at Austin. She tried to hide it, but she was stunned. She had been looking for someone to talk to, really talk to, and she had taken a chance with Austin, but she’d never expected him to actually hear her.

  Austin said, “In my business, I find the engineering and the mechanics of business easy, except for taxes and the accounting red tape, but I have a staff to handle that crap. The real problem in running a company is the people. People like your Monsieur Badeau can be a big negative in any company. In my company, anybody that is a bully or can’t be trusted is gone. He has his management style upside down. He does report to Vassar, right?”

  “Yes, but Vassar is so busy and out of the office so much that I don’t think he has the time to see things for what they are.”

  “Madeline, I need an ally in this project of mine. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not sure I know what I’m doing. Today Vassar dropped something on me about some national monuments organization that I did not know anything about, and I think I looked like an idiot. I mean, it’s pretty presumptuous for an American to just show up and ask for this or that from the Louvre, and not have my facts together, and not get thrown out. I want you to be my ally. If we are successful, I’ll find a way to resolve your problem with your boss.”

  “I’m sorry I said anything,” said Madeline. “I don’t want you to think that I’m a baby, but he has been a problem for so long, and if it keeps up, I have to either sit down with Vassar and hope for a reassignment or just quit.”

  “If you quit, you’ll be quitting for the wrong reason, and I sense that you really don’t want to quit. You just want Badeau to go away.”

  “I don’t want to quit. I want to fight, but he doesn’t fight fair.”

  “If you don’t mind, let me ask you a few more questions. We know what a creep this Badeau guy is, so let me ask you about you,” said Austin. “Give me a quick review of Madeline. Who is she? How did she get here? Where does she want to be, both in her job and in her personal life? What makes you happy, and what, besides your boss, makes you sad? I know what you do for the Louvre, but what have you done for you lately?”

  Madeline looked out into the night and said nothing. Austin gave her time. He was asking a question that might be none of his business, and she didn’t have to answer.

  “Okay,” said Austin. “Let me give you more of my first impressions. First, you are married to your job. It may be more of a security blanket, because I sense that you are not as aggressive as you should be.” Austin paused to see if he was getting a reaction. Tears began to flow from Madeline’s eyes, which she wiped with her hands. Austin handed her a napkin.

  “Lets go back to basics,” continued Austin. “I know that you are not married. Were you ever married?”

  “Almost. He was in the military and was killed in a helicopter accident many years ago.”

  Austin had exposed a deep scar. Madeline again looked out the window.

  “Are your parents still alive? Any brothers and sisters?’

  “My parents are dead, and I have one married sister who lives in the village where we grew up. It is about two hundred kilometers south of Paris. She has two boys.”

  “How di
d you get into art?” asked Austin.

  “I have always liked or perhaps loved art, and I wanted to be a successful artist, but I had to make a choice between painting and eating. I got a job in a small gallery in Paris after university, and then I answered an advertisement for the Louvre and bounced from one administrative job to another. I like my job but not the current situation.”

  “No,” said Austin. “You don’t like the fact that you could be doing much more than you are, and it’s just not happening. Hey, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life, but the more you tell me, the more I can see it. I don’t think you’ve been nurtured to grow in your job. I also don’t think that you’ve been challenged, and what has suffered the most is your confidence and your sense of accomplishment.”

  Madeline again wiped her eyes with a napkin. It was clear to the waiter, who was waiting for the best opportunity to deliver the menus, that now was not the time.