Spoils of the Game

by Lee Lamond

  Madeline sat looking out the window at the scenery as the train headed south. “I know that there had been discussions in the past, and that Badeau’s wife had talked with some lawyers who worked for the Louvre, and that she had agreed to take steps to isolate her activities from the Louvre,” she said. “It was understood that it was her business and had no connection to the Louvre or Badeau. All of this was perhaps three or four years ago.”

  “Well, I don’t think that they have played by the rules, and I do not think that they expected to get some of the stockholder crap that they did,” said Austin. “I mean, people get really angry when they spend a lot of money on what they have been told is a good art investment, only to find out that they paid too much or they may have been a victim of fraud. His problem is that people who have enough money to buy expensive art also have enough money to fight back.

  Madeline looked pained. “You have to go slowly with me. Yesterday I found a friend who was murdered, and today you tell me my boss is a criminal.”

  “Madeline, with luck there may be a job opening in the future.”

  “Oh, they would never give me Badeau’s job, and I am not sure that I would want it.”

  “Hey, I have seen you in action, and I think you would be great,” stated Austin. “Half the people in the world are doing jobs that are over their heads, so you might fit right in,” said Austin with a laugh.”

  Madeline looked at Austin, trying to process his comments. “What did you say?”

  “It was a joke. You would be great in Badeau’s job. You know your way around, and what you do not know you could learn quickly. After I get done blasting Badeau, I will just tell Vassar to hire you, and it will be a done deal,” said Austin with a smile.

  “Austin, you have made me think about a lot of things, and I am sure that I do not want Badeau’s job. I have had enough of the Louvre. I am quickly joining the list of people that go to work because that have to, and not because they want to. I have to break out and find something else to do.”

  Madeline had finished her wine, and Austin had not touched his. Without asking, Madeline reached across the table and took Austin’s glass.

  “Hey,” she said. “Let’s not talk about Badeau. The next four weeks are going to give us an opportunity to relax.”

  “So where did you say we are going again?” asked Austin, putting himself into Madeline hands.

  “We are going to the little town of Antibes, which is just south of Nice and a lot more relaxed.”

  “Will, I have a good time?” asked Austin with a smile on his face.

  “Well, I will be there, and if you bring your nice-person face, we should have a really good time. I—or I should say you—rented a house that is on top of a hill, with a great view, and just a few minutes’ walk from the beach. It has a great rooftop patio and a lot of privacy. It is not exactly a mansion, but I love it, and you will love it too.”

  “Did this cost me a lot of money?”

  “You will know the answer to that question when you get your credit card bill,” said Madeline with a smile.

  Austin hid his face in his hands. When he opened his eyes, Madeline was buying more wine from the refreshment cart that had come down the aisle of the train.

  “More wine?” exclaimed Austin.

  “Hey, I am French, and I like to drink wine. Here, read this stuff that Sabine gave you, and let me have my wine,” she said.

  Austin took the large envelope and opened it carefully. Inside was a collection of articles and a note from Sabine.

  Monsieur Clay, I did some research that you may find of interest. Some of it is required when we bring in new art, to ensure that it is not stolen and that there are no claims by heirs or others. Other research covers what is known about the artist and a determination of the value or importance of the piece. Some of the information I have provided is a little disturbing. I hope this information will be of interest and helps.

  Austin went through the stack and was very impressed with the amount of information. The first document was the most disturbing. It defined the possible claims for the painting that were obtained from Father Gladieux.

  All three of the paintings in questions appear to have been the legal property of Jacob Frankel, now deceased. According to available records, Jacob Frankel, a Jewish banker in the city of Nantes, and his family were requested by agents of the SS to prepare for relocation and failed to arrive at the prearranged location. Four Nazis including one Gestapo agent arrived at his residence and forced his family into the back of a truck. Included were his wife and sister and seven children. Jacob Frankel protested the arrest, and according to a witness, he was shot in the head on the front steps of his home while his family watched. The family was transported to the Drancy transit camp and then according to records maintained by the Nazis, to Auschwitz Birkenau. None of the family members is believed to have survived the war. A total of 155 works of art appear to have been part of the Frankel collection, including forty sculptures. Many of these items are in either museums or private collections around the world. The three paintings that were recovered recently have apparently been in storage by the Gladieux family for over seventy years. There are no claims on record regarding the ownership of the art.

  Austin held the piece of paper in his hand as if it was a window into the past. He had visions of Frankel’s body lying on the front steps of his home, and the horror on the faces of his wife and children as they saw a Gestapo monster kill this innocent man.

  The frickin’ painting is cursed, thought Austin. The painter was tortured to death, and the last known owner had his brains sprayed over the sidewalk. The information from Sabine was of interest, but it was perhaps not complete. Who else had owned the painting? Where did it spend the rest of the past five hundred years? Who else had died while owning the paintings?

  Austin looked toward Madeline to make her aware of the information, but she was asleep. The wine and recent events had taken their toll.

  Austin continued to search through the information Sabine had supplied. Using his improved French skills, he waded through a copy of a newspaper article dated March 10, 1940 which was only a few weeks prior to the Nazi invasion of France. The article was built around an interview with Frankel and was entitled “Art Detective.” It was about to shake up Austin, and he knew it. His eyes quickly scanned the article, looking for clues, before settling into reading every word. There was a photo of Frankel standing in front of the battle scene painting that Austin knew very well. Austin almost panicked. Had Frankel learned the secrets? Had he found the gold? Frankel mentioned that in the world of art there had been many paintings that had contained possible clues to historical events and even murders. There had also been paintings with satire or political comment that had often gone unnoticed. Then Austin found the one line he feared: “This painting, for example, may hold the secret to a missing treasure, but I still need a few more clues.” There it was. Frankel, the art collector, had known the story. He had been on the trail.

  “Madeline! Madeline, wake up.”

  There was no response

  “Madeline, will you wake up?”

  Madeline’s eyes slowly opened, and she realized that someone was calling her. She tried to rally and prove that she was in control.

  “Madeline, you will not believe what I have found in the information from Sabine. It’s a gold mine. You won’t believe it,” said Austin.

  “Can you tell me in a minute? I have to pee.”

  While Madeline was gone, Austin went back to the article. It was not a big article, but it contained valuable information. His eyes searched every line. There were references to Maetan’s brother and the strange fact that Maetan had used more than one name, which made the job of doing research on the lost treasure more difficult for Frankel.

  Upon Madeline’s return, Austin was full of exciting information. He showed Madeline the personal information on Frankel and his death.

  “Is this what you call exciting i
nformation? Are you taking pleasure in this family’s extermination?” exclaimed Madeline. “My goodness, Austin, do I have to hear about another murder?”

  “No! No, you don’t understand. Here, look at this article,” said Austin, pushing the article in her direction.

  “Damn you, Austin. I am going on holiday, and you are not going to make a mess of my plans with this search for gold and talk about people dying, or whatever you think you are going to find. You have got to promise me that for the next four weeks you will put this aside. I am sorry I brought the files, and when I talk to Sabine again, I will tell her to stop helping you.”

  Tears began to well up in Madeline’s eyes. She was serious. She had planned this trip for weeks and did not want to see it competing with a silly search for gold that had been missing for over five hundred years. She wanted Austin all to herself and did not want to think about anything else.

  Austin sobered up. For him a woman’s tears have always been her best weapon, and Madeline’s tears were hitting him hard. Austin took back the article, placed the documents he had removed back into the envelope, and gave the envelope to Madeline.

  “Okay, you are in charge of the information and the files until we get back.”

  Madeline looked out the window and then at Austin. She took the files and placed them back in her bag. “Austin, if you look at this information even once the whole time we are gone, I will kill you, and then you will have to go back to Paris by yourself.” Austin laughed and held out his hand to Madeline, signifying that they had a deal.

  Soon the announcement was made that the train would shortly arrive in Nice. A car had been reserved, and within minutes they were on their way south to Antibes. Madeline knew the Mediterranean coast of France, and the location she had found for their getaway was really special. The view of the ocean was beautiful, and the accommodations were perfect, especially if one had romance on there mind. It was about seven o’clock when they had finished unpacking, and they had time to sit on the rooftop patio and take in the world before them. Austin was seated in a big wicker chair when Madeline came up behind him, put her hands over his eyes, and said, “Guess who?”

  “Well, let me guess. It had better be Madeline, because if it is not, she will be very mad at me.”

  “You are so right. Now guess what I am thinking about right now.”

  “Well, it is either wine or something that I should not talk about in mixed company.”

  “Oh, you can talk about this with anyone you want.”

  “Okay, I bet you are wondering if I am going to take you to dinner.”

  “Oh, you are so smart. And besides, there is no food here, so let’s go.”

  The walk down the hill to the town took about ten minutes. It was a warm summer evening with a light breeze. Many of the shops and restaurants along the water’s edge were lit up in lights that outlined the buildings. It was clear that Antibes was a hangout for France’s wealthy. The shops had only the finest products, along with the highest prices Austin could imagine. The air was filled with the smells of food, and Madeline knew exactly where she was going.

  They were seated at a table in a small restaurant overlooking the sea. The sound of small waves running up on the shore provided the background music. Even Austin, who was not always easy to impress, knew that Madeline had outdone herself. The waiter arrived, and Madeline took the lead and ordered a wine that she knew well. After the waiter poured the first glass for both of them, Madeline raised her glass and proposed a toast.

  “Thank you for joining me here, and here’s to a fun month,” said Madeline. “This is going to be great, and you need a break. I am sorry that I gave you a hard time on the train. Sometimes you get so committed to things that you get crazy, and with everything else that has happened, I just could not take your nonstop enthusiasm. It is like you are in one of your football games. I just wanted us to have some time together without searching for the dreams of dead people.”

  “Hey, I understand. I am yours until Sabine sends us more information,” said Austin with a laugh.

  Dinner was great. Madeline introduced Austin to some local specialties and to a great dessert that could only be found at this restaurant. After dinner Austin and Madeline stopped by a small store to buy some wine, coffee, pastries, and other staples for the morning. That night Austin and Madeline sat on the rooftop under the stars and sipped wine until about two, and then Madeline dragged Austin to his fate in bed.

  The morning came with incredible sunshine and a warm breeze from over the mountains. Austin got up while Madeline slept and made some coffee and explored the bag of pastries. He looked out over the shoreline and began to think about his relationship with Madeline. For weeks he had been afraid of getting in too deep too soon, but now he was running out of excuses. As he sipped his coffee, Madeline joined him on the rooftop patio and said, “Is there any coffee for me?”

  Austin looked at Madeline—all of Madeline.

  “Hey, you’re naked,” he said with a laugh.

  “I need some sun, and I need some coffee.”

  Austin looked around to see if anyone could see Madeline in her current condition, but it looked like their seclusion was secure.

  “What if someone sees you?”

  “Listen, in France people may not all agree on this or that, but on many topics we are very tolerant. And I am on vacation. Do you want me to get dressed?”

  “What do you want in your coffee?” replied Austin.

  The first week was perhaps the most relaxing time Austin had ever experienced. Madeline knew the area and showed Austin the sights and the beaches. On Thursday they had lunch with one of Madeline’s old friends that she knew from her years in Antibes. Early on Friday morning, Austin made a few phone calls and made a reservation. At about nine, Austin gave Madeline the good news.

  “Madeline, I just made a reservation for something you are going to love.”

  Madeline looked at Austin with no idea what he was talking about. “A reservation?” she said, concerned.

  “Hey, our reservation is for twelve, and it will be great.”

  Madeline continued to worry, because with all of his words, she still did not know what he was talking about. “Are you going to tell me what the reservation is for?” she said with a little bit of an attitude.

  “I rented a sailboat for us. I am going to take you on a sailing cruise.”

  “A sailboat?” Madeline said.

  “Hey, it is a nice seven-meter boat, and it will be very nice. You look concerned.”

  Madeline looked at the floor and did not say a word, and Austin knew that there was a problem.

  “Austin,” she said, “I do not like boats. Especially sailboats, because they can tip over.

  “I am a very good sailor, and I promise I will not tip the boat over,” said Austin.

  “Austin, I cannot swim.”

  “We will get you a life jacket. I promise you will float like a cork.”

  Madeline looked at Austin, wanting to agree to his adventure. She agreed, but her heart was not in it.

  * * *

  Austin handled the boat with precision. The breeze was steady from the west. He could have gone faster, but he was in no hurry, and Madeline seemed well satisfied as they slowly worked their way north. Madeline sat on the windward side of the vessel, wearing her life jacket and now realizing that she was not about to die. The life jacket was not a fashion statement, but it helped Madeline remain calm. Austin gave Madeline a chance to man the tiller and steer the boat, and for a short while she might have admitted that she was actually having fun. When Austin announced that it was time to come about and return to port, Madeline had mixed emotions. The voyage was not as horrible as expected, but she had had enough. After docking, the couple found a harbor-side table in a small cafe to eat a late lunch.

  “So when was the last time you were on a sailboat?” Austin asked, trying to find a reason to praise Madeline’s performance.

  “I was never o
n a sailboat, because it just did not look safe to me, and I never really had an opportunity.”

  “Never? Wow. I was raised on a sailboat. When I was fifteen, I sailed with my father and some of his friends to Bermuda and back. The next year we sailed to the Bahamas.”

  “You’re insane,” said Madeline. “The ocean is full of big waves and big fish and sharks and stuff. I would never do that.”