Before the conversation continued, Karl noticed two gendarmes standing outside the phone booth giving him the once over. “Gotta go, Jim, I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
The car registered to Karl Pelland, a silver 1986 Audi, had been spotted in the hotel lot. The Paris police had wired this information, along with the license plate, to the Dijon police as soon as Madam Larouche mentioned Karl’s name. Karl had some explaining to do.
At the local police station, Karl explained his visit to Madam Larouche earlier that morning, mentioning that he had been asked to find the location of two orphans. He also mentioned how he came to get Madam Larouche’s address and the nun from the orphanage. And why would he give his real name if he was going to commit a crime. Fortunately for Karl, two co-workers accounted for him the night before at an embassy social, making it nearly impossible for him to drive to Dijon that evening and be back to meet Madam Larouche the following morning in Paris. For now, he was free to go but was asked to be available for further questioning through his address at the embassy. Ironically, Karl was asked if he knew of any reason someone would want to harm Charles Larouche, to which he honestly answered no. Jim Howard had not seen the need to divulge any danger to the twins.
“Jim, I’m off the hook for now but I may be in a mess back at the office when I explain all of this to my boss. I’m sure he’ll want to know what I was doing here in Dijon. As far as you and I are concerned, Jim, this was just a favor, understand, I never got paid anything to do this, agree?”
“Agree.”
“Do you still want me to find the other kid? Is he in danger too? What aren’t you telling me, good buddy?” Karl muttered sarcastically.
“Just let me tell you this, Karl, if you don’t find this other twin, Robert Elliott, before someone else does, he might wind up dead too. That’s all I can tell you right now, but the kid may be a target and has no idea why. Find him fast, Karl, please, it’s really important. I’ll explain more later, but just find him!”
“Okay, okay, Jim, but I’ll need more money. Something tells me that finding this Robert Elliott may not be so easy. I’m heading back to Paris in the morning. Wire another ten thousand to the same place as before. You’re going to owe me, big time, Howard, big time.”
“Yeah, I know.”
CHAPTER 11
In July 1951 the Musee du Louvre was attracting many visitors. The Louvre was the national art museum of France and occupied the site of a thirteenth century fortress. The building of the Louvre was started in 1546 during the reign of Francis I, according to the plans of the French architect Pierre Lescot. Additions were made to the structure during the reigns of almost every subsequent French monarch. The structure, which until 1682 was a residence for the kings of France, is one of the largest palaces in the world. By the mid-nineteenth century the vast complex was completed, covering more than forty-eight acres, and is a masterpiece of architectural design and sculptural adornment.
The nucleus of the Louvre collections is the group of Italian Renaissance paintings, among them several by Leonardo da Vinci. Over the years that the museum had been open to the public, the holdings were significantly enriched by acquisitions made for the monarchy by several cardinals and by Napoleon. Among its greatest treasures were two of the most famous sculptures of the ancient world: the Victory of Samothrace, Venus de Milo, and Leonardo’s famous portrait, Mona Lisa.
During the war in the 1940s, protection of all of the Louvre’s priceless masterpieces was effected by their removal to secret depositories outside Paris. Claude Gagnon had been instrumental in the movement of much of the artwork outside of Paris and, once the war had ended, he had been appointed one of the seven curatorial positions at the museum. In 1950, Claude was elevated to the position of Directeur Generale at the Louvre, the highest position in the museum.
Françoise was added to the Department of Paintings, considered by many scholars the most important in the world, and including several thousand works of the various European schools. Its enormous collection of French paintings ranged from the Middle Ages to the early nineteenth century. Françoise was to spend nearly a month becoming familiar with each painting in the gallery in preparation for the first guided gallery tour set to begin in August of that year.
As a result of her exposure to dealing with tourists and other local visitors to the Paris area during her stay with the bus tour company, Françoise was a natural in cheerily escorting groups through the vast art collections in her area. Claude was very watchful of Françoise and the progress she made in understanding the history of the old masters and their works. His sister Henriette had now passed on the watchful eye duties of Françoise to Claude and, as the years passed, Claude could only hope that someday his own daughter would end up like Francoise.
By 1956, Françoise had been elevated to the position of Director of the Department of Paintings and had assumed much greater responsibilities than she could have imagined. Her parents visited her often but the vastness of the galleries tended to tire them easily each time they came. Françoise could see the weariness in her father’s eyes, but he always glowed in her presence.
Ahmad Maurier was the only son of King Fatam of Khatamori. Throughout his young life, Ahmad had been educated not only in the ways of his country, but also in the history of western civilizations and customs. King Fatam believed strongly that it was important to understand the ways of other cultures of the world if you planned on dealing with those nations. Khatamori, as an oil-rich country, sold much oil to European countries. Amhad, now aged thirty-nine and still unmarried, was continuing his education of European culture by agreeing to evaluate the king’s own art collection at the palace in Banra. In his own mind, Ahmad did not see the merits of knowing the real value of such artwork since the king could buy whatever artwork he chose to regardless of price. To appease his father, however, Ahmad agreed to a month-long journey to the Louvre in Paris where Claude Gagnon would assist Ahmad in evaluating techniques of artwork. Claude had asked Françoise to assist him in the several private audiences granted to Ahmad for tutoring at the museum, all for a hefty price to the museum, of course. Additionally, in view of Françoise’s extensive knowledge of Parisian sites, Claude had offered the museum’s assistance to the prince to include landmarks within Paris. Since Françoise was in charge of the Louvre’s painting displays, coupled with her touring capabilities, she was the natural choice for the task, in Claude’s mind.
Prince Ahmad arrived with his entourage at Le Bourse airport on a Sunday afternoon in late May. Later that day, Françoise arrived at Hotel Marseilles and knocked on the door of Room 500. As no surprise to her, the prince had rented half of the fifth floor of the hotel, including his own personal suite of four adjoining rooms. A tall very dark man answered the door. He was richly dressed in robes and wore a turban on his head. The man wore several gold rings on his fingers.
“How may I help you?”
“Bonjour, I am Françoise Dupont of the Louvre and I am here representing the museum to personally welcome his highness to Paris.” As Françoise entered the foyer to the suite, the servant immediately took notice that Françoise was not wearing a hat or a veil on her head or face.
“You cannot meet with the prince in this manner, madame. All women speaking to the prince must be shielded in the face and head. I will get you the proper clothing before introducing you to Prince Ahmad.”
“That will not be necessary, monsieur, as I will not wear a veil or a hat unless I choose to. That is not the custom here in Paris, or in France for that matter, and women certainly do not hide their faces for anyone. And besides, if I am to tutor the prince at the Louvre for the next few weeks and also show him around the streets of Paris, I most certainly will not do so in disguise. Please tell that to the prince.”
The servant asked Françoise to wait in the foyer, and he soon disappeared behind double-sliding doors into a gigantic living area of sofas and chairs against a backdrop of several large glass doors leading
to a balcony overlooking the city.
Several minutes went by, and Françoise started reconsidering whether her reply had sounded ruder than it had been intended to be. Surely the prince at the earliest opportunity would inform Claude of this behavior, she thought.
“Madame Dupont, the prince will see you now,” came a loud announcement as the doors slid open.
“It is Mademoiselle Dupont, monsieur, not madame.”
“Forgive me, mademoiselle, and thank you for correcting me.”
“Your Highness, may I present Mademoiselle Françoise Dupont from the Louvre.”
The living area must have been thirty feet long and nearly as wide as the majestically dressed man began his approach toward Françoise. He was dressed head-to-toe in a silk robe with glowing crystals attached throughout. He also had several huge rings on his fingers and a richly decorated turban with a sapphire stone in the forehead section. He was lighter skinned than the servant, with shiny dark eyes and a broad smile that unveiled stunningly white teeth against his darker complexion. Prince Ahmad was a very handsome man, a feature that Françoise noticed immediately.
“Ah, Mademoiselle Dupont, please forgive me for the earlier formality by my servant, he is accustomed to such protocol for visitors to the palace in Banra.”
“That is quite all right, Your Highness, my comments to him were not intended to be insulting to your customs, but to merely inform him that we do not do this in France, regardless of who the visitor is. Welcome to Paris. I trust that your hotel accommodations are suitable.”
“Quite comfortable, thank you. Although, I must confess to not having seen your city from the terrace yet. Shall we do that now, mademoiselle, over some tea perhaps?”
“That would be wonderful, Your Highness, and perhaps I can point out a few of Paris’s well-known sights for you.”
As the two entered the marble-tiled terrace, complete with ornate serving tables and gothic sculptured chairs, Françoise was taken over by the prince’s charm and awareness of European custom. As they approached the terrace railing, the prince began to untangle his turban as if he was removing it. The process puzzled Françoise until, at last, Prince Ahmad stood before her with his perfectly combed black hair, slicked back in a glimmer.
“I have noticed that most gentlemen in your country do not wear anything on their heads. I will do the same while I am here. Please, sit down, mademoiselle.”
“I do not wish to draw attention to myself.”
Françoise could not help but wonder why such a man with so much power and education was a bachelor. Surely, he must be a womanizer, she thought. And, likely, he had had his choice of many women in Khatamori and had found no need to marry yet. Perhaps it was customary to have several wives in his country, Françoise pondered.
“Forgive me for saying, mademoiselle, but you appear to be so young to have such an important position at the Louvre,” Prince Ahmad inquired. “How is this to be?”
Françoise related her childhood experiences with her father’s tutelage and the subsequent tour business, all of which led to the opportunity to conduct museum tours at the Louvre. The prince was fascinated by her enthusiasm and good nature. He could not help but gaze at her as she went on and on, a trait she had acquired in the museum over the years.
“You will call me Ahmad during my stay here in Paris, so as not to draw any attention to me, something I do not need.”
“And then, you may call me Françoise, Monsieur Ahmad.”
“If you don’t mind also, I will wear French clothing for our visits at the museum and throughout Paris. Again, I do not want for people to be looking at me because of the way I dress.”
“Do you require some assistance in getting new clothing, or have you already taken care of that?”
“No, uh, Françoise, I have all the necessary items. The robes you see me in now will only be worn while I am here in my private quarters. And now if you will excuse me, Françoise, I am weary from my journey and need to rest. Perhaps you will join me here later this evening for dinner, as my guest.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Ahmad, but I have made other plans for the evening. Should I meet you here in the morning or will you go directly to the Louvre to begin our instruction?” Françoise inquired, embarrassed.
“At the museum would be fine, Françoise. Shall we say around nine a.m.? Until then, I hope your evening is pleasant.”
As they walked through the hotel suite, Françoise was engulfed with the smell of incense throughout, a very refreshing fragrance that she was not familiar with.
“Oh, what a wonderful smell this is, is that from your country, Ahmad?”
“Yes, we light such burning candles as a spiritual request to Allah to bless these rooms we occupy. It is again a custom which I will keep within these quarters, although I must admit that, in my country we might take this for granted since it is used everywhere. There is even a liquid fragrance used by Khatamori women that is very similar to this one.”
“What is it called?”
“It is called the Flower of Heaven to represent the aroma of flowers and the respect that these things are all gifts from Allah.”
Françoise bid goodbye to the prince and headed for the elevators leading her down to the lobby. Fool, she thought. Why did I tell him I had other plans tonight when I had no such thing? Just as well, she mumbled to herself. She could use the relaxing evening in anticipation of some likely hectic days ahead. Nevertheless, there was something about Ahmad Maurier that gave her a strange feeling inside, something she had not felt toward anyone for many years. Perhaps it was this feeling that made her hesitate at Ahmad’s invitation, a cautious denial of preventing such feelings from surfacing further.
On Monday, Françoise was at the museum at 7:00 a.m., the normal start of her day. She would review the schedule of tours for the day. She no longer did many museum tours herself but would arrange the assignment of tours to others, carefully matching the tour leader to the group. Some of her staff was better with school groups while others were more fluent in other languages that accommodated various groups from outside of France. The tours ran several hours and overlapped, beginning in different parts of the museum to avoid congestion in any one gallery. Françoise had developed this system to maximize the flow of traffic in the galleries and Claude had been remarkably impressed with her ability to create this system.
Promptly at 9:00 a.m., Ahmad arrived at the Louvre, strikingly handsome in a gray suit, complete with silk tie and matching handkerchief in the breast pocket; his hair combed precisely the same as he had uncovered the afternoon earlier. His shoes were polished and appeared to be right out of the shoe box. Françoise had failed to alert Ahmad to the amount of walking involved in gallery tours and Parisian sightseeing and she could only imagine how sore his feet would be at the end of the day. She made a point to suggest to him that, on future days, he should consider more comfortable attire, less formal, and a pair of shoes or sandals that would be less strenuous on his feet. Ahmad laughed at the suggestion, commenting that there was no such thing as a prince in casual attire when in public view. Customs were sacred to such royalty, whether in Khatamori or elsewhere. He did, however, reserve judgment on wearing different shoes pending the outcome of his first day’s adventures.
The Louvre museum houses more than six thousand European paintings dating from the end of the thirteenth century to the mid-nineteenth century, from miniatures to monumental canvases. The Department of Paintings was organized into national schools, subdivided by country and within century from particular countries for France and Italy. Additional countries represented include Spain, Germany, the Netherlands, Flanders, Holland, and Great Britain. All of the paintings were located on the first and second floors of the museum.
Françoise began her instructions in the museum area covering French artists during the fifteenth century. Each artist had a different style and flare for varying details and the use of color. Françoise was careful to point this out to Ahmad as they began
what would surely be a lengthy set of informative meetings for four days each week over the next month. The fifth day would be spent touring the city with Saturdays and Sundays left for Ahmad to do as he wished. Evening meetings were not required but left to the discretion of Françoise, Claude, and Ahmad.
Amhad was very quick to learn the differences among the various artists of France and also of the other European countries represented at the museum. On the few occasions that Claude personally took charge of the tutoring, Ahmad showed less enthusiasm. He had grown accustomed to Françoise’s open personality, her wit, and her beauty. When compared to the darker skinned women of his country, Françoise’s blue eyes and brown hair nicely complemented her soft and pure complexion. At five-feet, six-inches tall, Françoise had developed into a stately woman with a magnificent body. Over the weeks that followed, Ahmad insisted on several occasions that Françoise join him for dinner following an all-day tour of Paris or a full day at the galleries. Following several excuses to refuse such invitations, she found herself running out of reasons to deny Ahmad’s advances until she finally agreed to dinner at the Café Royal.
There were many memories for Françoise at the Café Royal and Monsieur Cardin was still there at the age of sixty-six. A widower with no children, the restaurant was his life. When Françoise and Ahmad arrived one evening for their first dinner together, Monsieur Cardin greeted Françoise with a warm smile and a huge embrace. Tears began to swell in his eyes. Françoise was like the daughter he never had, and the fondness he had for her father Louis extended easily to Françoise. He missed Louis as maitre d’ following Louis’s retirement a few years earlier, and seeing Françoise breathed new life into this tired old man. Ahmad was impressed with the attention and respect bestowed on Françoise by everyone at the Café Royal. The quiet table near the window overlooked the Seine and the cool May breezes were refreshing following a warm day of sunshine. The waiters were very attentive to the needs of the two special guests, being ever so careful not to appear overeager in their constant quest to assure that every aspect of the dinner was perfect. Ahmad was a connoisseur of wines and, as the wine steward recommended several fine choices, Ahmad asked specifically for a particular dry white wine, to which the steward immediately showed his approval.
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