Spoils of the Game

by Lee Lamond

  “Your friend Henri invited me to visit a guy named Phillips with him this Sunday morning.”

  “Reginald Phillips,” said Madeline, sounding surprised.

  “You know this guy?”

  “Only by reputation. He has been here on many occasions, and I think I may have met him, but I don’t know him very well. He is a big-time art collector. Can I come with you?”

  “I don’t care, but you should ask your friend Henri, because he was the one doing the inviting.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if I let you and Henri go by yourselves. I am glad that you two got along, and I might just be in the way. In this town, having contacts is very important, and this will give you a good chance to make a friend. Now, what were you saying about dinner?”

  “Hey, if I do not take you to dinner, then I will probably eat some junk or something, so it is probably healthier to eat with you than to be on my own. It is still early, so I am going to work on my presentation, and I will come back and pick you up. What time?

  “Seven?”

  * * *

  Madeline recommended a small restaurant on the Left Bank that they had been to before and suggested that they walk. The summer evening was warm, and the sun spread a soft light over the city. As they walked across the river on the Pont St. Michel, Austin asked Madeline a couple of questions.

  “Don’t ask me why I am asking these questions. I am just trying to learn something.”

  Madeline gave Austin a strange look, and then she said, “Okay.”

  “Have you ever heard of the Seine Corporation?”

  Madeline thought for a second and then said, “No.”

  “Do you know anyone that owns an apartment in Nice?”

  Madeline said, “No, but I would like to.”

  “That is all of the questions tonight,” said Austin. He put his arms around Madeline’s shoulders from behind and kissed her on the neck. The smell of her perfume played games with his brain.

  “Why did you ask those questions?”

  “Oh, it is not important. I had a discussion with someone, and the name Seine Corporation came up. I just wanted to know if you knew the name.”

  As they continued to walk, Austin held Madeline’s hand and commented on the perfume she was wearing. The classiness of this woman was yet another reason that Austin continued to fall deeper into her web. Try as he might, he was having a difficult time identifying anything that he didn’t like about her.

  Dinner was very relaxed. Paris had many small restaurants that the tourists never knew about, and that was fine with the locals. The Bell de Paris was a place that had matured with time, and some might say that it could use a makeover. The age of this establishment could be measured by the names and dates carved into the tabletops by students from the Sorbonne. Austin surveyed the record before him to find Madeline’s name. At least at this table her name and phone number could not be found. The waiter approached the table, and it was clear that he and Madeline knew each other, as they conversed for several minutes. Austin’s French was improving, but he could not follow the conversation. Among all of the words, Madeline had ordered wine.

  Between their first and second glass, Austin related the story of the death of poor Francois Maetan and said that he had learned that the artist had two names. Madeline was glad that she had introduced Feret to Austin. It was an interesting diversion, but unknown to Madeline it was the beginning of much more than a diversion.

  “I heard this afternoon that your new friend Feret was shown the Maetan paintings by Badeau. I don’t know why, but I know that they were down with the paintings and that Feret took some photographs.”

  Austin looked at Madeline, sorry that he had even brought up the subject to the old man.

  “He had told me of an earlier interest, but I wish he were not so interested now. Can you arrange for me to see the Maetan painting again tomorrow?” Austin asked.

  “Sure, I don’t think they have sent it to storage,” Madeline replied. “Why do you want to see it?”

  “I now understand some of the history. The key question for me is whether this was the last painting he completed before his death. I would also love to know what happened to his brother. That may be a very tough assignment.”

  “Please don’t tell me that you are going to look for the gold. What happened to your big project?”

  “Not just yet,” Austin said with a smile “And you are right—I want to finish up the first phase of the project. In fact, if I can get in to see Vassar next Thursday, I will be ready to see if he will sign on. But I have been thinking about the Maetan painting, and I have been thinking about Feret’s comments, and I have also been thinking about your relationship with the Louvre.”

  “My relationship?”

  “Let me explain. I am a little bit of a gambler. I wish I could say that I always gamble on sure things, and sometimes I let my ego get ahead of my common sense, but I have a hunch.”

  “What’s a hunch?” asked Madeline, who wanted to add this word to her collection.

  “It is a guess or feeling based on incomplete information. I am wondering if the painting in question was the last one Maetan painted. I mean, was it the painting he was working on when they came to take him away? Then I started to think about what you said about how some of it did not look like the rest, and what you said about something about …”

  “Varnish.”

  “Yes, varnish. And was this painting finished in a hurry, or … was something covered up?”

  “By whom?” asked Madeline.

  “I have absolutely no idea. Maybe it was done by Maetan, or maybe it was done by his brother, if he was around. Or maybe he had someone else do it. Here is what I want to do, but we have to be very careful. This may be stupid, but I would like to answer the first question. Is there any connection between the time of the painting, the time of the missing gold, and the deal that fell apart with the twin boys? If the painting was done before the incident, then it may just be another painting. If it was done after the incident, then perhaps there is more to it.”

  “More to it?”

  “I don’t know what that means either. Something just does not seem right. It should be worth a second look.”

  Austin excused himself and went to the men’s room. Upon returning, he saw a sad look in Madeline eyes. “Do you think I am crazy?” he asked.

  “No, no. I was just thinking about something.”

  “Madeline, what do you know about infrared?”

  “What?”

  “I read an article about some Italian guy that was using infrared in studying frescos or something in Florence.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Madeline. “I have heard about the technology, but I don’t know much about it. He is not the only one that has done this. We have some people at the Louvre who know about this subject.”

  “Well, that’s a problem.”

  “Problem?”

  Austin tried to guide Madeline through his thoughts. “Madeline, I am suggesting that there is something under the unvarnished section. I don’t know what it might be. Perhaps he had some political statement that would have made his problems worse, or maybe it was a shopping list. Wouldn’t you love to know what it is?”

  “I’ll try to see if we can get the infrared people to look at it.”

  “Nope, I don’t want the Louvre involved.”

  “Austin, I am now really confused.”

  “I want to fund this exercise, and I want to control who knows what. I want the painting scanned by someone that has no knowledge of why we are scanning it—someone that does not have a big mouth. I need your help in identifying resources and perhaps some contacts, but I don’t want you involved. Let’s just say that that crazy Austin is off on some fool’s errand. Remember, I am in the medical electronics business. Maybe I will fly someone over from the States, or maybe we can find a European consultant. Now, let’s talk about something really important. I am starving, and drinking all of this wine bef
ore dinner makes my head get all wobbly.” Austin handed Madeline a menu.

  After ordering, there was a slight change in her demeanor. “What will you do if he does not agree to your proposal?”

  “Who?” asked Austin.

  “Vassar,” she replied.

  “I will listen to what the man says and perhaps come back with a modified project intend to overcome his objections. As we say back home, there is more than one way to skin this cat. My VP of sales always tells his people that the selling does not begin until the customer says no. I will get what I want.”

  “Do you want me?”

  The question came out of the blue, and he was caught off guard. He hesitated to answer the question. The second bottle of wine was delivered, and he took the pause to pour wine into both of their glasses.

  “Madeline, you were a very big surprise for me. The minute I saw you in the airport when I arrived, I was impressed. I did not come to France to find a girlfriend or a wife. I was married for twenty years, and life has changed a lot for me. I miss my wife, and I wish she were here, but I know that she is gone, at least gone from my world. She died, and I did not. I have been very cautious about you. First I have to be a little on guard about women. Where I come from, I could date two women a night, but only because people know who and what I am. At this stage in my life, there is not much I can do about that. What I want more than anything is honesty. I put honesty above beauty, a great figure, blonde hair, and a rich father. With you, I feel very much at home, and I believe that you have been as honest as anyone can be. We do come from different worlds. France is not the Unites States, but to me that does not matter. I want to answer your question. I want to give you a complete answer. I also want to be so sure that there is no going back. I think you are terrific. The issue is not you. The issue is me. I had very mixed emotions about the other night. I am a relatively smart guy, but you have got me very confused. Do I want you? I want to say yes, but I also don’t want to make a mistake, especially one that hurts you. I could have commuted back and forth from the United States to France on this project, and I feel a little guilty that I did not do that. Many people rely on me, and here I am on what my father would say was a boondoggle. One of the reasons I have not commuted is you.”

  Madeline reached across the table and took Austin’s hand. Perhaps she sensed that she had gone too far, too soon. She wanted Austin to say yes, but his honesty was perhaps more important.

  Madeline wanted to mention another issue that perhaps Austin was not aware of. “Let me change the topic if I can,” she said. “In about ten days it will be July, and most of Paris will be on vacation. I don’t know what Vassar’s plans are, but people that count may be on vacation for perhaps a month.”

  Austin was aware of this practice in much of Europe, but the topic had slipped his mind.

  “Well, I am set up to talk with Vassar on the Thursday before everybody leaves town,” said Austin. “I could go back to the United States if things are going to be on hold. Maybe we can concentrate on getting the Maetan painting studied. What are you going to do?”

  “My sister and I usually rent a small house on the Riviera that we really love. This year she has some conflicts, and we are not going to do it, so I am not sure what I am going to do. I cannot afford the house by myself, and it is not as much fun to go alone.”

  “Okay, I will make you a deal. Let me see first if there is any reason I should go back to the United States. If they are doing better without me, I will stay here. If you find a way to get the Maetan painting scanned quickly, then I will take you to the Riviera as my guest. I have been to Europe a bunch of times, but I have never been to the Riviera. You set it up, but let me first check with the office.”

  Madeline smiled. It was a smile that Austin had learned to love. “So how soon will you know?” she asked.

  Austin reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. A few button pushes later he was talking with his office.

  “Bonnie, this is Austin. Is Carl Thomson around?” Austin pulled the phone away from his ear so that Madeline could listen in.

  “Yes, boss,” answered Thomson.

  “Carl, I am sitting here in a meeting, trying to plan the next month. Is there anything that I should come back for in July?”

  “Hey, there are some people here that hope you never come back,” Carl said with a laugh. “The only thing that might matter is that big industry show in Las Vegas in November. To be honest, things are going smoothly, and I am not saying that just because you are away. Engineering and the software group have stopped fighting, and things look very good for the new organ injector we are going to show in Vegas. Most of our customers are paying their bills. Freddie got some new leases on the space we needed, and legal got that nutcase in Texas to back off. I think you are good until September. I will not be here for the first two weeks in July, so if you are coming back to see me, forget it.”

  Austin smiled at Madeline.

  “Carl, you are giving me the impression that I should be laid off or something.”

  “Well, I will call HR and discuss it. The money we would save by not paying you would be great for our bottom line,” said Carl with his typical wise-guy attitude.

  “In all seriousness, the reports you have been sending me via e-mail have been great. I would love to come back, but we are making some real progress here, and if you can live without me, I will stay a little longer.”

  “That is fine by us,” said Carl reassuringly.

  Austin ended the conversation and then looked directly into Madeline’s eyes. “Okay, get us a place on the beach for three weeks,” said Austin.

  “Four weeks?” answered Madeline with a little girl smile.

  “If you get the picture scanned before July, it can be four weeks, but I cannot and will not promise that I will be able to be there for all four weeks. But remember, I will pay for it, and your boss is not to know. Understood?”

  “Understood,” said Madeline with a smile. “Oh, I forgot—you got a call, and Vassar’s secretary took the message.”

  Madeline reached into her purse, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Austin. He opened the envelope and looked at the pink message form with some concern. The note said that a Father David Moreau had called and left a phone number.

  “Who is Father Moreau, and why does he want to talk to me?”

  Madeline shrugged and looked at Austin with an expression that suggested that she did not know. Austin looked at the ceiling and then back at Madeline.

  “I’ll bet you this is Vassar’s doing, and I am not sure if he is trying to help or hurt. Well, it is what it is. I don’t think the good father is calling about my soul. You know, Feret was right about the Church. I have been worried that I am approaching this project backward. I came to the Louvre because of my wife’s connections, but the root of the solution, if there is one, rests with the Church. I know nothing about the Roman Catholic Church. I don’t know the structure or who is who. I don’t know the protocol or where to begin. He is probably some art monster appointed by the pope to send me to hell.”

  Madeline started to laugh and kept laughing. Other people in the restaurant started to notice that she was laughing almost uncontrollably.

  Austin said, “Hey … I am going to hell, and you are laughing. That is just not right.”

  It took several minutes before Madeline had calmed down. It wasn’t what Austin had said, but how he’d said it. Austin decided he would address it in the morning; he wanted to get back to talking with Madeline.

  “So where are we going on this fun-filled trip to the beach?” asked Austin.

  “Antibes.”

  “Where or what is that?”

  “It is a small town south of Nice, without all of the hassle. The good news is that the place I want to go to is available. I was amazed, and I already made the reservation,” said Madeline.”

  “I just said yes a few minutes ago!”

  “I know, and I knew I could get y
ou to say yes. I was concerned that you might do something stupid and go back to the States, but now it’s all set.”

  Madeline was proving to be an equal in this relationship. Austin liked her aggressiveness and her independence. He also liked the fact that she had him figured out.

  “Austin, we are going to a great place. I got us a house on a little hill overlooking the ocean. My sister and I rented this house two years ago, and I just love it. There is no better place in France.”

  “Is this going to be expensive?”

  “Just give me your credit card, and I will take care of the rest.”

  “Do you think I am crazy?”

  “Will that be Visa or American Express?”