Spoils of the Game

by Lee Lamond

  Around one, Austin used the house phone to call Madeline.

  “Hello,” said a tired Madeline.

  “Are you still mad at me?” asked Austin.

  “I’m not mad. I am just very tired and very confused. I took a shower. I had to get the grime off of me, and I have been trying to sleep. Good-bye, Austin. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Is there anything we should talk about?”

  “No, my brain needs a rest. I just want to sleep, or escape, or both. Good-bye, Austin.”

  “Talk to you later,” said Austin. He hung up the phone, laid back on the bed, and tried to take an audit of the current situation and his life. Madeline was right. He had been very fortunate. He had been raised in a good family and had been taught to do the right thing. Having more money than he could ever spend and an ongoing business that provided millions in personal income, the whole concept of money had become a nonissue in his life. Money was more a measure of success than a means to pay the rent. Walking away from the treasure would clean up everyone’s life, but there had to be a better way. Before getting in the shower to remove his own share of filth, Austin checked the door and arranged the gold so that it was less obvious. He positioned a chair under the doorknob as a crude backup barrier.

  In the shower he replayed the day’s events in his mind. Had he gone over the top with the beating he had given Simon? Simon had asked for it, and he had slapped around Madeline and tried to kill her, which destroyed any defense he might have had. Having them on the loose was an issue. Any action they took to squeal on Austin also put them in jeopardy, but what if they did it anonymously? Perhaps Simon would talk with his gangster connections and seek revenge on Austin and Madeline. Had his counter-threats to Simon been convincing? Was his imagination getting the best of him, or was he deadly accurate in his analysis?

  The hotel they were in was not the best, and Austin laughed when he thought of Madeline’s previous comments about his hotel selection skills. Sounds filtered through the thin walls, and conversations in a variety of languages could be heard. The blankets on the bed were thin, and the mattress was populated with lumps. He had not seen any insects or other vermin, but he knew they were there somewhere. In a strange way, a cheap hotel was a good hideout.

  Austin wanted to keep the situation secret, but he needed advice. He did have people that he could trust and good relations with the law firm that handled his company’s legal issues. He knew the lawyers very well and had played golf with several of them on occasion. He checked his watch, confirmed that someone should be in the office, and then made a call.

  “Andy, this is Austin Clay.”

  “Austin, someone told me you were over in France, chasing those French girls.”

  “Well, to be honest, Andy, I have been, but there has been a complication.”

  “You didn’t marry some stripper or anything?”

  “No, it is crazier than that. In fact, I wish it were that simple.”

  “You sound rattled, my friend.”

  “It is not that I am rattled as much as I am disappointed in myself. I got caught up in a project, and it got a lot deeper and more confusing than I had imagined, and now I suspect it might have been for nothing.”

  “Okay,” said Andy. “You are now talking with Father Andy, and I will hear your confession. You of course know that I got out of bed about thirty minutes ago, so my legal mind may not be at full power yet.”

  “Andy, I do not want to bore you with the details, but I found a treasure. It took a little detective work, but while I was over here, I found a treasure.”

  “You mean like a pirate chest full of diamonds and gold?”

  “Well, there were no diamonds, but there is a big pile of gold.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Oh, I am very serious, but now I have the question of what to do with the gold. As I recently learned, Italian law states that any treasure belongs to the state. One side of my brain says that this straight arrow must turn in the gold. Another part of my brain says sneak it over the border into Switzerland and either fence it or melt it down into bars.”

  “Italian law? I thought you were in France.”

  “Currently I am in Italy, about fifty miles south of the Swiss border,” said Austin tiredly. “The Italy thing is a long story. Just know I am in Italy for now.”

  “Okay, so you are in Italy. Let’s get back to the gold. How much gold did you find?”

  “I am not sure. Perhaps six or seven hundred pounds.”

  “Austin, is this some kind of fuckin’ joke?”

  “No, it is a fact.”

  “Where is the gold now?”

  “It is in my hotel room.”

  “Who knows that you have it?”

  “There is only one person, and she’s cool. There are three other people that know a little, but I do not think they are an issue, and they don’t know where I am.”

  “So you want to know what to do with the gold. Is it bars or coins?”

  “Five-hundred-year-old Venetian ducats.”

  “What’s a ducat?

  “It’s a gold coin about the size of a nickel.”

  “Well, I suspect that they are probably more valuable as coins, as opposed to melting them down.”

  “Andy, here is what I want to do. I think. I want to play this straight. I don’t want to look over my shoulder or put my female friend in jeopardy. It would be nice if something could be negotiated so that my friend could get enough money to establish a foundation or put the money to a good use. By the way, she is French.”

  “Austin, you are beginning to really confuse me. Whatever happened to your medical hardware business?”

  “Please do not ask. I have to get back and figure out what I am going to do with that.”

  “Okay, let’s make this simple. I have some legal contacts in Rome. Call me tomorrow, and I will give you the contact information. In the meantime I want you to find one or more banks that offer a safe deposit box and put the money in a safe place. If you have to go to ten banks, then go to ten, but keep a good record of what you put where. What is the gold in? I mean, is it in a chest or what?”

  “It is in about twenty clay pots or jugs.”

  “Jugs?”

  “Yeah, jugs … no, I mean pots. They look like oversized baked-bean pots, which are currently stuffed into muddy canvas bags.”

  “Okay, you have got to find a way to repackage the gold so it looks like something that will not bring questions. Let’s say that it is medical equipment samples that are very secret. Think of something like that.”

  “Okay. Andy, this is a nerve-racking experience. When we have more time, I will tell you more about this crap, but it is really an unbelievable story.”

  “Hey, take it slow, and keep your cool, and we will get you through this. Remember, you have the gold, and that puts you in a very powerful position. I will start a paper trail stating that we talked about surrendering the gold to give you some support in the even that the Italians come down on you. It is better than nothing. I am most concerned about the three people that you do not believe will be a problem. When there is this much money involved, I would not trust anyone. You know the people involved, but I would immediately change whatever plans they may know about and go underground with respect to them. Is there a chance that they could turn you in to the Italian police?”

  “They would not do it directly, but they might do something anonymously.”

  “Can I assume that these people are not friends?”

  “Not after today.”

  “Why? What happened today?”

  “Well, I kind of beat them up.”

  “You mean there was a fight?”

  “Not really. I just beat the crap out of them. What do you know of Switzerland?”

  “Alps, watches, and something about hot chocolate and those red penknives.”

  “As I said, we are about fifty miles from Switzerland and I have been wondering about running across the
border.”

  “Austin, just put the stuff in an Italian bank for safekeeping. If you take the gold out of Italy, you could be opening a real problem. Let’s take this one day at a time. Call me tomorrow, and I will give you the contact info in Rome. If something comes up and you need me, call me. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Austin, I have to tell you that we are good with corporate stuff and a divorce once in a while, but treasure and beating the shit out of people is a little outside our normal range of casework, especially when it is in Italy.”

  If Austin was going to put the gold into a safe deposit box, he would have to dress it up. As Andy suggested, he had to look professional, and muddy canvas bags just wouldn’t do. He had to get some boxes that looked appropriate, perhaps some sample cases that would fit into a safe deposit box. He didn’t want to put the gold back into the car, but he didn’t want to keep it in the motel room either. Perhaps Madeline could babysit the gold. Something would have to be done.

  At about three o’clock there was a knock on the door. Through the peephole he could see that it was Madeline. Austin opened the door, let Madeline in, and checked the world outside.

  “Well, hello, sunshine,” he said to Madeline, who did not appear to be at her best.

  “I brought you some coffee and some pastries,” said Madeline. “Since I have been traveling with you, Austin, I have eaten more fattening crap.”

  “Well, you are one of the cutest fat people I know,” replied Austin, trying to be lighthearted. “For the record, you are not fat. And when you consider the abuse I have put you through, I cannot believe that you have gained a gram.”

  Suddenly Madeline’s phone rang, and she looked at the display. “It’s Sabine,” said Madeline. “I wonder why she would call.” Switching to an upbeat tone, she answered the phone. “Hello, Sabine.”

  “Have you seen the papers or seen the news on the television today?”

  “No, I’ve been busy,” she said looking sarcastically at Austin.

  “Well, I have some news you are not going to believe. I was going to wait and call you a little later, but this couldn’t wait. Are you ready?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, according to BFM-TV, Badeau is dead.”

  Madeline sank into the chair in the corner of the room. She was having hard time breathing.

  “They say he killed himself,” Sabine continued.

  “Oh my God,” said Madeline. “What did they say? I mean, what are the details?”

  Austin pulled up another chair so that he could hear Sabine’s comments.

  “Well, it says that according to witnesses, Badeau was in a car with two other men, and he shot them and then shot himself with a shotgun. The whole thing happened somewhere near Milan.”

  “Shotgun. Witnesses. Oh my God.”

  “Yes, apparently there was a guy who was fishing, and he saw the whole thing. It happened early this morning. This news is going to rock the Louvre. You know that I did not like him, and I know you had your problems with him as well, but there must be more to this than we know.”

  Madeline’s mind raced. Austin held up a finger over his lips to encourage her not to say anything.

  “Did they mention the names of the other people that were killed?”

  “It says that police are still trying to identify one of the men, but the other one was Andre Bertrand, an international art dealer. This is amazing. This place will be covered with police soon. I am sure they are going to be asking everybody questions. Where are you now?”

  “Um, Austin and I took a day trip. If you need me, call me again, and I will do whatever anyone asks.”

  Austin gave Madeline the thumbs-up sign.

  She continued, “I will go out and get a newspaper or look for it on the TV. This is not what I was expecting for you to tell me when I answered the phone. I thought you were going to tell me that you had met Mr. Right or that you got a better job. Who do you think we will work for now?”

  “Madeline, you would make a great replacement.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. I am not good with the politics.”

  “Oh, you are probably going to marry Austin and move to the United States and live in a mansion.”

  Madeline tried to not look at Austin, but she saw that Austin was smiling.

  “No, I don’t think so. I am just going to be an old maid, live in Paris forever, and sell my paintings to people who don’t know good art. Listen, Sabine, keep me informed, and call me if anyone needs me. I really have to run.”

  “I will. Have fun. Bye.”

  “Bye.” Madeline put down the phone and melted into the chair.

  Austin thought in silence for a while. Then he said, “Madeline, this has nothing to do with us. I told you that Badeau was doing things I thought should have got him fired a long time ago. He got mixed up with a bunch of criminals and made some mistakes. It just caught up with him, and he knew there was no way out. Neither you nor I has anything to do with Badeau’s death or the deaths of the other two. The French police will probably have little interest in this, because it is an Italian issue.”

  “Austin, I don’t want anything to do with this gold, and I don’t want you to have anything to do with it either. This gold is cursed. It killed Maetan. It was a curse to those monks at the monastery, and they did not even know it was there. It may have had something to do with Frankel’s fate and Henri Feret’s murder, and now it is responsible for three men dying. I just want to drop it back in the well and forget that we ever found it.”

  Austin leaned against the wall and studied Madeline. He’d gotten caught up in the search without thinking about what to do if he actually found the gold. Dropping it back in the well just was not going to work.

  “Austin, did you hear me? I want you to get rid of the gold. I do not care if you put it in the poor box, but I just want you to get rid of the gold. I told you that in Italy there might be laws about even processing money of historical importance. If you try to sell that gold, the Italians are going to put you or maybe even both of us in jail. This whole thing is crazy, and I do not want to be connected with it at all. Austin, things were going very well with us, and this is going to be nothing but problems.”

  Austin looked down at the floor. There had to be a solution better than throwing the money away.

  “Madeline, I agree with you. This money may be poison, and I don’t want anything to get between you and me. Putting the money in the poor box, as you say, is an option, but I am not ready just yet to give away the money. The money does not mean anything per se. I could live without it, so let’s look at some options. First, we could call up some bureaucrats and hand over the gold and perhaps get our picture in the paper. I do not like government agencies, but it would make a lot of things go smoother. If an orphanage owned the land where the money was found, then I would give the money back in a heartbeat. If the government owned the land, I am less convinced that any real good would come out of giving back the gold. If the church owned the land, then I might be persuaded. The professor told us that some Japanese company just acquired the land and I remember seeing some surveyor flags when we walked up to the ruins. We could give the money to them, but they would not have gotten it without us and in the end the gold would probably end up with the Italian government who didn’t do anything to get it.

  “Austin, I do not care what you do. I just want it gone. When I was a little girl, my parents did not have very much money. My sister and I lived a good life, and we had fun. My sister and I would share clothing because there was not enough money. All through my working life I had enough to get by, and I was content. Now I am in a room with millions of euros’ worth of gold, and I am miserable, and I do not see myself ever being happy again.”

  “How far are we from Switzerland?

  “Switzerland? What are you thinking about?”

  “I do not know. I am just thinking. Is there any problem getting into Switzerland?”

  “I have not been the
re for years. I remember that if you do not have a road tax sticker on your car, they stop you at the border and charge you money for a sticker, even if you are there for just one day. It gives them an opportunity to inspect your car. If you have a sticker, you can just drive right in, and there is a less of a chance that they will do a spot check at the border. If you want to do what I think you do, you must get to Zurich, but first you should get a sticker. It is is not what you call fool proof, but it’s probably a little safer”