The reflection looking back at her from the mirror seemed to be the same as it was yesterday, but today’s vision held the tension of the gut wrenching worry that she held for Bryan, and for the situation that she and Sylvain were now enduring. Pulling her hair out of its ponytail, she brushed it loose, threw on some lip gloss, squared her shoulders and stepped out of her bedroom.
Sylvain appeared out of his room at the same time and they both walked down the stairs and into the living room together, surprised to find it empty. Before they could sit down, someone walked slowly and painfully into the room, with one arm in a sling.
The joy on Sylvain’s face was undeniable. He ran to give his grandmother a bear hug, stopping halfway, afraid to hurt her. Realizing his dilemma, she hugged him and kissed both cheeks, leaning her forehead against his.
He then led her to the sofa, where he helped her to ease into a sitting position and then sat beside her. Not a word had yet been spoken. Watching from her spot in the hall, Sonya knew that Sylvain was having difficulty keeping in his tears.
One look at Madame Lalonde and she knew why. The stately, stylish lady had a large cut on her forehead that had been dressed with steri-strips and which was beginning to bloom in shades of blue, maroon and purple. She had bruises around her neck and moved as if in great pain.
“Madame Lalonde,” Sonya exclaimed, walked over to her and knelt to take her hand. “I am so sorry that this has happened to you. Who did this?” she demanded.
“Perhaps,” BB stated as he walked into the room, “we can spare Madame Lalonde from reliving this disturbing occurrence more than once and wait until everyone else is here to reveal her story. Is that satisfactory, Lise?” he asked very gently, almost as if he and she knew one another.
“Absolument,” Madame Lalonde replied. “One time, c’est bien!”
With that, BB handed her a drink. What it was, Sonya had no idea, but she nodded thanks and took a mouthful, tossing it back into her throat and swallowing with what seemed to be appreciation and surprisingly, anger.
Within seconds of each other, Mike and Steve walked into the room and Maurice simply seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
As they had lunch, Sonya analyzed the people in the room around her. They were having a very civilized lunch upon the heels of the Lalonde home having been vandalized, its owner injured and two of its inhabitants having been kidnapped. What was not wrong with this picture?
“Perhaps, Lise, you would allow me to tell some of the story, the story that the police have told me. That might be less stressful for you. Is that acceptable?” BB asked. Madame Lalonde simply nodded.
BB began. “From what we know, whoever kidnapped Lucien and Bryan were looking for some data that they believed was in their possession. Obviously, it wasn’t upon their person, so they came to the house to look for it. Unfortunately, Lise came into the house as they were searching for whatever it is that they were after. They tried to force her to tell them where it was, but she had no knowledge of what that was or where it was. The neighbours called the police because they heard noises and once the sirens were heard the thugs took off. Am I missing anything, Lise?” he asked solicitously.
“That is what happen,” Madame Lalonde agreed, taking another somewhat indelicate slug of her drink, obviously alcohol of some sort.
“Do you know what they wanted?” Mike asked.
“Non, not for certain! I think it was memory card. We have no such thing, n’est-ce pas, Sylvain?” she asked her grandson.
“Only in my camera, Granmama,” he replied. “And remember, I lend to my friend, Gerard, to take to his holiday. The card, it was empty when I give to him.”
BB continued. "It was so very fortunate that Sonya and Sylvain left the house when they did as they, in all probability, would have also been injured. I am pleased beyond belief that Sonya made the decision to seek out help from Steven and Mike."
Sonya just listened. BB called Madame Lalonde by her first name, definitely not their first encounter in her opinion. The people that took Bryan wanted something, something that wasn’t on his person. A memory card?
Okay, they had several memory cards with them. One was in the computer, simply stored there as a backup to the one in Bryan’s camera. Perhaps, she would be doing some research after lunch in her room.
CHAPTER 15
The minute that Sonya was in her bedroom, she quietly locked the door behind her and rushed over to the bureau to boot up her computer. To her surprise, her WiFi found and logged onto an unsecured network with decent strength, something that had been an issue at Madame Lalonde’s. Bryan had explained to her that most folks in France used their cells for communication versus having a computer.
The first website that Sonya checked was her email. There was nothing from Bryan and other than checking for family news, she quickly exited.
Then she opened the memory card already stored in the computer. To her utter shock, it was filled with photographs that she had not previously seen. It held photos of paintings, beautiful paintings that had been shot from every possible angle.
She was certain that these were Bryan’s, despite the fact that his usual work was much more contemporary and edgy. These were in a much different style of painting, still contemporary but with a familiar feel and look. Otherwise, why would he have documented them in the same way that he documented all of his paintings? Perhaps these were the paintings that he had made for Grégoire.
There were also photos of people. The only one that she recognized was Grégoire. Perhaps the other people were his fellow students and friends.
What gnawed at the back of her mind more than anything was the lack of knowledge that she had about Bryan’s time in Paris. Certainly she had been more than preoccupied at the time with her grandmother’s death and her parents’ murders. No small wonder she hadn’t kept up to date with Bryan’s happenings and friends in Paris during that period. They had been in constant touch by email, but in hindsight, very little had been said about his day to day life during that time.
However, she was here now, and some instinct led her to believe that what she had in hand was the one piece of information that might be the key to Bryan’s freedom. The question was what to do with it? Did she trust anyone enough to share this information? This was, after all, Bryan’s life that she was dealing with.
Steve was MI5, that she knew. But he was in France. Did MI5 have any pull here? He had just been introduced as her cousin and therefore family, but she barely knew him. Was he someone that she could trust?
Sonya mulled over what she should do. Her cousin Mike was a possibility. He and his brother, John, seemed to know Steve much better than the rest of the family. But, if BB was indeed his father, would there be a pull towards him and not to her? Maybe at dinner, she would pump him for information. Maybe.
In the meantime, she would have to be careful. Certainly if all her instincts were wrong, she was no match for Maurice or Steve, should they be the enemy. Even the older BB struck her as a formidable foe.
Mike, Sylvain and Madame Lalonde were in the same position as she was, except perhaps for maybe Madame Lalonde. She obviously knew BB previously and that might be a difficulty, given that he was a dark horse, no matter how accommodating. The bottom line was that if it came down to a choice, Sylvain would side with his grandmother. Understanding the closeness she had held with her own grandmother she deduced that she was on her own.
Added to that, she had no idea whatsoever where she was. Sonya had chosen not to add the outrageously expensive roaming option to her cell phone when they left, deciding that they didn’t need it on their honeymoon, especially since Bryan knew Paris so well. She certainly could have used a Google GPS map pinpointing her location right about now. If need be, she still might use it, no matter the expense.
In a flash of insight, she pulled out her cell and composed a text message to Bryan. Without disclosing anything that she knew or what had happened, she simply asked how he was and where he
was, suggesting they should fly home ASAP. It couldn’t hurt to try.
Now, what to do about the memory card? It was too tiny to try to hide anywhere on her person, it would be lost or damaged if out of its plastic sleeve. Pacing the floor didn’t help much. It was a small room.
Finally, an idea! Before Sonya pulled the tiny memory card that held her mp3’s in her cell phone, she copied the one in the computer and saved it in a folder named Art. She placed the art card into her cell phone, and put the MP3 card from the cell into the plastic sleeve and slipped that back into her computer.
Changing into her jeans and dark, long sleeved shirt, she French braided her hair out of the way and then washed her face. The cell phone was slid into her jeans pocket. It was snug enough that she would know if it moved or buzzed.
Next the passports, and then their money. Undecided about the bulky airline tickets, she made note of their retrieval code, the flight times and flight numbers on a sheet of paper, and then slipped it into the passports in her back pocket. If she and Bryan needed to leave in a hurry, she would be prepared.
A knock on her door surprised her. It was Madame Lalonde.
Ushering her into the room, Sonya helped her to sit in the bedside chair.
“Madame Lalonde, are you all right?” she asked.
“Oui! I wish to thank you for take care of Sylvain. He is just baby,” she declared as tears formed in her eyes. “If he was at the house…”
Sonya knelt to hug her landlady. “He wasn’t there,” she stated. “But you were, and I’m so sorry that you were hurt. Is your arm broken?”
“Non! They dislocate to find memory card. I do not know where is. Mon pauvre Sylvain! If they find him…” the older lady dissolved into tears. Sonya embraced her until she was over her emotional outburst. There was absolutely nothing that she could do to help her, other than allow her to release the awful pressure and pain that she obviously felt.
“Can I get you a cup of tea?” Sonya asked.
“Non, Chérie, merci! We both are in same situation. The men that we love son perdu, lost! It is a pain that no one else can feel.”
A large sigh escaped and Sonya nodded. “Yes, we are alone, I agree.”
“Ah, not alone, Chérie, but in mind, there is solidarite with pain we feel. We must do something, but it is something that I do not know. Help me up, and I go to my room. We will talk at dinner.”
With that Sonya assisted Madame Lalonde out of the chair and watched as she gingerly walked across the room, out the door and across the hall to her room.
CHAPTER 16
Dinner was very civilized and under other circumstances, would have been absolutely divine. The dining table was perfect, the china obviously expensive and the crystal exquisite.
“Is this your house?” Sonya couldn’t resist asking.
“It is,” replied BB. “Is it to your liking?” he asked, swirling his wine casually.
“Most definitely!” Sonya replied lifting her wine glass in salute. “It is absolutely perfect. Thank you for taking us into your home, especially under these circumstances.”
BB appeared surprised by her statement. “The pleasure is mine,” he replied graciously. “My home is greatly enhanced by her guests.”
Steve took a deep breath and began what Sonya believed to be a somewhat rehearsed speech. “Sonya, I need to ask, as difficult as it might be, if you can perhaps give us some insight into the people that you have met since you and Bryan have been in Paris. Of course, other than Madame Lalonde, Sylvain and Lucien.”
Sonya thought for a few minutes. “The only person that immediately comes to mind is Bryan’s professor while he was studying here, Grégoire. I don’t even know his last name to be honest.”
“So where did you meet Grégoire,” Steve continued.
“At the university, just after we arrived in Paris. We met again later that day, at a bar called Le Cavern. To be brutally honest, in my opinion Grégoire is a total asshole!” Realizing that she had sworn unintentionally, Sonya blushed.
“I apologize for using rude language, but that guy really, really is a pig! Can you believe that he hit on me, not only at the university, but again at the bar? He also made some comment about Crusader and being a wizard. I dislike him so intensely, and I cannot give you a reason why. I can’t understand why Bryan even gives him the time of day!”
Several eyebrows at the table rose in surprise at the mention of Crusader and wizard, but no one remarked.
“This is the only person you have met here?” Steve continued.
Sonya thought for a second. “There was a woman, Mimi. She was at the bar when we were there with Grégoire. We saw her again at Montmartre. I liked her! According to Bryan, she really rang Grégoire’s bell at some party when he got totally gross with her. Flipped him flat on his back! I’ll raise a glass to that lady – she is A-okay in my book!”
Steve grinned at her. Obviously, he liked what she said. BB flitted a glance at Steve and all Maurice did was nod and take a swallow of his wine.
“You met no one else?” BB prompted.
Sonya shook her head. “Not that I can remember. We have been playing tourist, we haven’t met many people other than those two. There were others at the bar, but they were just students kissing Grégoire’s ass. I labelled them Grégoire’s Groupies.”
Maurice choked a bit on his wine, his hazel eyes sparkling in a face handsome enough that it could have been in the movies, and then he seemed to try to hide his rather large grin.
After dinner, they retreated to their rooms. Sonya checked her email and her text messages. Nothing! Damn.
Hanging her blazer on the doorknob and placing her shoes beside the bed, she lay upon the bed fully clothed, pulled the bedspread around her and closed her eyes, hoping for at least an hour or two of downtime.
Sonya woke with a start. The room was dark, and the clock read 10:30. The cell buzzed again – a text message! Sonya fumbled to retrieve it, but she was forced to light the bedside lamp to orient herself. The message was from Bryan!
“M ok. Need 2 C U 2nite. 2:30 @ Eiffel Twr. No 1 else. Brng camra. Tak Taxi”
Okay! He was healthy enough to send a text. But, this wasn’t his usual text, and he hadn’t signed it with the silly little symbols that he usually did, so someone else had written it. It was, however, her only lifeline.
What now? Obviously, she would require assistance to leave this home. It was guarded by Maurice, perhaps even by others outside. What had BB called it? Ah yes, a safe house. But safe from whom? And there wasn’t much time to waste.
Sonya slipped on her shoes and jacket, said a quick prayer and silently unlocked the bedroom door. A night light at the end of the hall provided enough illumination to allow her to find the stairs. Closing the door again, she pulled out the cell phone and gritting her teeth at the expense, pulled up Google maps, waiting impatiently until it pinpointed her location. Carefully writing her coordinates and the surrounding streets, she exited the map. There was no point in incurring the national debt. She could always reconnect once she left.
They weren’t as far away from downtown as she had imagined. The question now, was how to get a taxi. She was definitely too far to walk. There were two cars downstairs. Steve’s was a small one, it was late at night and perhaps she could navigate that one to the Eiffel Tower. It was likely her best option.
Opening the door again, Sonya quietly closed it behind her and began to tiptoe to the stairway. A hand gripped her arm. Inhaling a scream, she turned to assess her assailant, ready to do battle. Instead, she let out a deep breath. It was Madame Lalonde.
“Where you go?” she asked in a whisper. “You have hear, ne c’est pas?” she demanded.
“I’m just going downstairs,” Sonya lied.
“And out of door,” Madame Lalonde finished. “I smell lies very well,” she stated.
Opening her bedroom door and steering Madame Lalonde into her room, Sonya closed the door and took a deep breath. “Yes, I did he
ar from Bryan, a text message. I don’t think it was from him, to be honest, but I have no choice but to go.”
“You can tell the others,” Madame Lalonde suggested.
“I don’t know who can be trusted,” Sonya admitted somewhat tearily.
“Chérie,” Madame Lalonde took in a deep breath and began, “you must trust someone. You cannot go alone! The men that take Lucien and Bryan, they are bad people. You are but a girl. If you must go, I go too. He is my son.”
Tears stung Sonya’s eyes as she studied the older woman standing in her room. Her forehead was swollen, discoloured and held together with steri-strips and her arm was in a sling. She most probably had bruised ribs or worse and was in a great deal of pain. Yet, there she stood, ready to do battle and to help her.
“Madame Lalonde,” Sonya began. “You are hurt! You must stay here. You can’t come with me!”
“How do you leave here?” the older lady demanded quietly. “You cannot walk. You do not know Paris. Do you know where we are?” she asked.
Sonya just shook her head. They were very good questions and she had no answers.
“Chérie,” Madame Lalonde heaved a great sigh. “You give me one half of one hour? I find some way to have car keys and direct you to where we must go. I cannot drive, but you can. What time we meet them?”
Reluctantly, Sonya agreed. She did have to trust someone, and it might as well be Madame Lalonde. She could always ditch her if the going got tough. Madame Lalonde had been through enough physical violence already.
“Okay. Only thirty minutes and then I’m leaving, even if I have to walk. They said 2:30 at the Eiffel Tower.”
Secrets Page 6