Parisian Affair

by Gould, Judith

  Yes, she is the perfect antidote. The perfect receptacle for all of my frustrations, and nobody will miss her after I'm finished. He pulled the sheet off his muscular body and pointed with an index finger to the weapon aroused between his thighs. The girl's eyes suddenly widened in surprise, then he saw her pause as a ripple of fear ran up her spine, but she continued toward him, as he knew she would. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Women. They were all alike. All of them had a price, and this one was a bargain.

  CHAPTER 16

  In the small lobby of the Hotel de la Bretonnerie, the clerk behind the desk looked up at the young man who approached from the door to the street. 'Oui, monsieur?' he said, taking in the young man's extraordinarily handsome features and his expensive clothing.

  'What room is Mademoiselle Sheridan in?' he asked. 'I'm an old friend, and I would like to surprise her.'

  The middle-aged clerk shook his head and fussed with a lily in the elaborate flower arrangement that decorated the desk. 'I'm sorry, monsieur,' he said. 'We have no Mademoiselle Sheridan registered here.'

  'Surely there's some mistake,' the young man said, smiling, exposing his perfect white teeth. 'She told me that she and her boyfriend would be here tonight and that I should meet them here after dinner.'

  The clerk shook his head again, and he smiled indulgently. 'You said you wanted to surprise her, monsieur, eh?'

  'Well, not really. It's just that I'm a little early, you see,' the young man lied glibly.

  'Your friend must have meant another hotel,' the clerk said. His hand fingered the fresh hundred-euro note that Todd had slipped into his trouser pocket only a short time ago.

  'She didn't mean another hotel,' the young man persisted. 'I saw her here.'

  The clerk's eyes became steely. For the first time, he became aware of the hard glint in the young man's eyes and the muscular body that his

  clothes could hardly contain, and he regretted that he was manning the desk by himself tonight. There was no one else around with the exception of Mustapha, the bellman, who was probably down in his basement room smoking.

  'If you'll excuse me,' he said to the young man, 'I have work to do, and I think you'd better leave now. Your lady friend is not here.'

  He turned his back to the young man and slipped a message into one of the pigeonholes mounted on the wall. Suddenly he felt his collar grabbed from behind, and he almost lost his footing as he was jerked backward, as if he were a marionette. He tried to shout for help, but he was choked by his own tie and collar. As he drew his hands up to his neck, he felt only an instant of excruciating pain. It shot through his entire skull as if it had been crushed by an enormous rock. Then he slumped unconscious to the floor.

  Yamal put the pistol back in its shoulder holster and went around the counter to look for the registration book. Shoving the clerk out of the way with one foot, he found the book in plain view on a shelf just below the countertop. Picking it up, he looked at the day's entries. There weren't many, since it was not the tourist season, and this was a tiny out-of-the- way hotel.

  His dark, glittering eyes were rewarded almost immediately, for there it was: Sheridan/Hall, room 103. He looked in the pigeonholes on the wall and saw the key was in their box. He pocketed it. Then before he started up the steps, he went to the glass door that gave onto the street. He flipped the brass lock on it, shutting out any possible arrivals. Going up the staircase a step at a time, he removed his pistol from its holster once again and stopped briefly to make certain that the small silencer was fitted on it properly.

  At the top of the stairs, he saw a sign indicating that room 103 was to the left. On silent feet he crept down the carpeted hallway until he arrived at the door. He tried the handle. Locked. Taking the key out of his trouser pocket, he put it in the lock and turned it quickly and silently.

  The door gave, and he pushed it open, stepping into the darkened room and shoving the door shut behind him at the same time. Holding the pistol in front of him with his right hand, he reached with his left and felt on the wall for a light switch. At first he felt nothing; then his hand brushed across it. He pushed it with a finger, but nothing happened. The room remained in darkness, except for the faint light coming in from a

  window across the room. He advanced toward the foot of the bed, his pistol still out in front of him.

  His eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and he could make out the shape of two distinct lumps in the bed. He aimed the pistol toward the one on the left and fired twice, then switched to the right, and fired two more times. The pop-pops made by the pistol wouldn't draw any attention. They could've been champagne corks to anyone who might have heard them.

  Going to the left, he found the cord on the bedside lamp, and felt down it until his fingers brushed the switch. He flipped it, and the lamp immediately lit up. Yamal looked at the bed to make certain they were both dead, before setting about to find the emerald.

  He snapped the cover back with a flick of his wrist, and his eyes widened in surprise and disgust.

  'Fuck!' he spat in disbelief.

  The bed was empty, with the exception of the extra pillows and blankets that had been arranged to make it appear as if a couple were sleeping there.

  Yamal looked about the room, almost as if he were expecting someone to be standing in a corner snickering at his failed attempt, but the room was deserted.

  Giving the bedside table a furious kick that knocked the lamp off and broke its bulb, he put his pistol back in its holster and quietly went back to the door. Opening it, he looked both up and down the hallway and, seeing no one, stepped out and locked the door behind him. At the top of the stairway, he paused and listened. Not a sound came from the lobby on the ground floor below.

  He'd only been a couple of minutes, and knew that the old man could still be out. He considered searching the hotel for Allegra and Todd, but realized that they never intended to stay there. They were obviously in cahoots with the clerk who had taken their key and let them out the back door after they made the bed look like they were in it.

  Convinced that a further search would be a waste of time, Yamal went down the curving stairs. Nothing had changed in the lobby. A glance behind the counter satisfied his curiosity about the desk clerk. He still lay in a silent clump as if he were a pile of dirty laundry the maid had dropped and left. Yamal walked around the counter and replaced the key for room 103 in its box, then retraced his steps. He started for the glass door that led to the street when he saw a man try to open it, then shake it by the handle when it wouldn't open.

  Yamal sauntered to the door as if he owned the hotel, switched the lock, and opened it.

  The man outside stepped back and turned his face away as if he'd changed his mind about entering the lobby, but Yamal paid no heed. He put his hands in his pockets and began whistling as he sauntered off, merging into the still busy sidewalks along the rue Sainte-Croix de la Bretonnerie.

  Kadar patted down the sides of his hair, then entered the small lobby and looked about but saw no one. He didn't find it strange that the lobby door was locked, only that no one came to lock up again. He went to the desk and rang the bell, but no one appeared. He waited a minute and rang it again. Still no one.

  He looked around the small lobby again, then stretched to his tiptoes to look over the counter to see if he could locate the hotel's registration book.

  He was shocked to find the clerk. Looking over his back once again, he could see that no one was about. He darted around the counter and checked the clerk. Out cold. He caught sight of the registration book, lying open on a shelf beneath the countertop, and picked it up, his eyes quickly scanning down the page of the most recent entries. They stopped when they hit Sheridan/Hall. He looked up at the wall of pigeonholes and saw the key for room 103 there and took it out.

  Kadar hurried around the reception desk and up the flight of stairs to the premier etage, his sneakered feet silent on the carpeting.

  She felt him explode inside
her, and Allegra arched against him with all of her might as wave after wave of contractions overcame her. Oh, my God, she thought ecstatically. It was as if the world had shifted somehow, had changed in some fundamental way, and she was at its epicenter, surrounded by a cocoon of warmth and love such as she had never known.

  Todd wrapped her in his strong arms and peppered her face and neck with kisses. 'Oh, Ally,' he whispered, 'I love you.'

  'I love you, too,' she breathed, returning his hugs and kisses. 'I . . . can't believe this.'

  'What?' he asked softly, his lips settling at her ear, where his tongue traced little circles. 'What can't you believe?'

  'This . . . you . . . us,' she said in a breathy voice. 'It's so . . . wonderful, so perfect.'

  He hugged her to him more tightly. 'You're so wonderful, so perfect,' he said. 'I feel as if we've reached some new ... I don't know. Some new level. A new plane. We're closer now than we ever were.' He kissed her lips tenderly, then drew back slightly, his eyes reaching into hers. 'I've never been so happy.'

  'You really mean that, don't you?' she said, looking at him in wonderment.

  He nodded, his black hair falling over his eyes. 'I've never meant anything more strongly. I've never felt anything this powerful in my life.'

  She kissed his lips then and hugged him passionately. 'I feel the same way,' she said. 'I feel like . . . like we were meant to be somehow.'

  'Yes,' he said. 'We were meant to be together. Always and forever.'

  They kissed again. Then he drew back and looked into her eyes with a smile of such happiness that it almost brought tears to Allegra's eyes. To inspire such love and to feel such love for another human being must be the greatest of all gifts imaginable. It brought such joy to her heart that she couldn't begin to describe it. She thought that she had felt it before with Todd, but not like this. Not this powerfully.

  'What are you thinking?' he asked.

  'Oh . . . just. . . just how in love I am.'

  He laughed.

  'What are you laughing at?' she asked, punching him playfully on the arm.

  'Nothing. I'm just so happy.'

  She smiled. 'Maybe it's just getting to sleep in this magnificent suite.'

  'Aren't you glad we followed Whitehead's plan and sneaked out of the last hotel?'

  'Yes, especially after seeing that suspicious-looking character talking on a cell phone across from the hotel. I know we did the right thing.'

  'The right thing would have been for me to kill the bastard,' Todd growled.

  'Well,' she said, smiling, 'I'm safe now, aren't I? You're here with me, and the emerald is safely stowed away in our room safe.'

  'Yeah,' he said with a grin. 'I kind of miss it in my shorts. The man with the sixty-five-million-dollar crotch.'

  Allegra laughed. 'I think it's better off in our safe here at the Ritz, don't you?'

  'Yes,' he agreed, 'and that's where it should stay until we leave.'

  She looked around at the grandeur of the suite. 'I feel like a real princess in a palace. I've always heard about the Ritz, but I never dreamed it was quite this palatial.'

  The bed was a magnificent canopied affair, draped in silk, and the walls were boiserie, the carved wood highlighted in gilt. On the parquet de Versailles floor were Aubusson carpets, and the furnishings were all antique, very fine French pieces upholstered in silks and satins. Huge bouquets of fresh flowers were on consoles and tables, and at the bedside was an opened bottle of Louis Roederer Cristal champagne with two Baccarat crystal flutes, now half empty.

  'Well, I'm sure it's not all like this,' Todd said. 'I think this is the most expensive suite in the place. The bellman told me it was the Duke and Duchess of Windsor Suite. They stayed here before they moved to Paris permanently.'

  'Well, no wonder I feel right at home,' Allegra said in jest.

  'Yes,' Todd said. 'Only you're much more beautiful that the Duchess of Windsor ever was.'

  'And you're a lot better looking than the duke was,' she countered with a yawn.

  Todd brushed her lips with a kiss. 'I think it's time to hit the hay. I can tell you're worn out, and I'm a little jet-lagged myself.'

  She nodded, her eyes beginning to droop. 'I'll just brush my teeth and wash my face,' she said. 'Then I'll be ready to call it a night.'

  'Me, too,' he said.

  They got out of bed, and rather than use the separate bathrooms provided by the suite, they went hand in hand to the same one. When they finished in the opulent bathroom, they padded back to the grand bed, switched out the lights, and slipped under the covers, their naked bodies cuddled together. It was only moments before they were both sound asleep and the worries of the day were at bay.

  It wasn't a sound or a movement that woke her from a deep sleep. It wasn't anything external, in fact. It was something Todd had said earlier in the evening that rang an alarm bell in her dormant brain and in one swift instant roused her to complete wakefulness. For several moments she lay still, not daring to move, listening to Todd's rhythmic breathing. His arms were no longer around her, and he'd rolled onto his other side.

  She knew why Princess Karima's emerald was so important. Beyond its value as a gemstone and its enhanced worth for having belonged to the princess, the stone must be one of the most historically important gems in the world.

  I know what I must do, Allegra thought. I'm going to try to prove it. No matter what it takes, I'm going to get to the bottom of this. It may not make any difference to Hilton Whitehead or anyone else, but it does to me.

  Besides, if she told him what she knew, he would put professionals on the case, and she'd be left out in the cold. And he'd said it himself: her job was to buy the ring, then get it to New York. No more. Allegra knew she had to go it alone on this. With Todd's help, she would try to prove the ring's origins, and perhaps one day it could be returned to its rightful owner.

  With that comforting thought, Allegra turned on her side and closed her eyes. Although she was still excited by what she knew, she fell into a deep sleep again, certain that she'd come to the right decision and preparing herself to take on the challenge.

  CHAPTER 17

  Breakfast in bed was unlike anything Allegra had ever experienced.

  When she woke up, Todd had already showered and shaved, and was clad in one of the hotel's complimentary bathrobes. He had also ordered breakfast for them, and his timing was psychic. Allegra had hardly run a brush through her hair and donned a matching robe before there was a knock on the suite's door.

  'Who on earth?' she asked, appearing at the bathroom door as he went to answer the knock.

  'We'll see,' Todd replied.

  When the waiters arrived, laden with silver trays, Allegra looked over at Todd and smiled. 'I should've guessed,' she said.

  He returned her smile. 'Why not?' he asked.

  'Why not, indeed,' she said, knotting the robe about her waist.

  He took her hand. 'Let's eat in bed,' he said. 'Unless you'd rather that they set the table.'

  'I think the bed is an excellent suggestion.'

  'We'll have breakfast in bed,' he said to the waiters.

  'Oui, monsieur,' one of the waiters replied.

  After they were settled on the grand silk-swathed bed, the waiters, acting in unison, placed trays on fold-down legs before them. Coffee was poured, croissants and various rolls were put on the trays, with accompanying condiments, and the waiters left after asking if they needed anything else.

  'This is heavenly,' Allegra declared after taking a bite out of a buttered croissant. 'I think it must be the best croissant I've ever eaten.'

  'Thought you might enjoy it,' Todd said, sipping his coffee. He set his cup down and looked over at her. 'So what do you want to do today?' he asked. 'Have you decided?'

  Allegra had known he was going to ask this question, and she had given her answer considerable thought. 'I was thinking that maybe I might do some shopping,' she said.

  'Shopping?' he exclaimed, looking at
her as if she'd lost her mind. 'For what?'

  'Clothes, the odd accessory. You know, girlie things.' She took another bite out of a croissant, waiting for his response.

  'Allegra,' he said. 'We're in Paris, for God's sake. Why on earth do you want to go shopping? I mean, there's the Louvre, the Picasso, the Pompidou, and a million other museums. There's . . . there's a million things you've never seen before, you've never done before, and you want to go shopping? In Paris?' He looked at her with an incredulous expression.

  She looked at him, feigning surprise. 'But don't you see? That's the point. Being in Paris, I mean. I can get things here I can't get anywhere else in the world.'

  'Like what?' he asked, mystified. 'They've got all the same stores in New York. Gucci, Prada, Yves Saint Laurent.'

  'Of course they do, silly,' she said. 'But I don't mean places like that. I'm talking about little boutiques that New York doesn't have. Places that will have all sorts of things I could never find anywhere else.'

  'I don't believe this,' he said. 'You could see some of the greatest art in the world, and you're talking about looking for clothes.'

  He was reacting exactly as she'd hoped he would. Now if only the rest of her plan would work out as well. 'Todd, sweetie,' she said, turning to him, 'how often will I have somebody else's American Express card to use in Paris?'

  'Jesus,' he said. 'You know there's no way you're going to get me to go shopping with you.'

  'Oh, Todd,' she said. 'Don't be upset with me. You can do something you'd like to do while I'm busy. I won't be all day, you know.'

  He gently brushed a finger down the side of her face as if to placate her. 'I'm not upset. We can go our separate ways, then meet somewhere for lunch or whatever.'