Jenny said, “Yes.”
“Hieroglyphics are ancient writings whether on clay pots, parchment or stone, yes?” Ricardo was starting to set the bait.
“They are, but they do not seem so unique. Unless of course there is a story that goes with manuscript or pottery.” Jenny said. She was getting into negotiation mode just in case. “But surely you did not bring us here to talk about manuscripts.”
“Of course not, we are here for something else. But like I said I work lots of angles and may have something unique.” Ricardo teased just a little bit more.
Jenny looked at him, “You have a unique Egyptian papyrus for us to look at?”
“Maybe even better than that. Have you ever seen ancient Egyptian writings on bronze plates?” Ricardo dropped it out there.
“Bronze plates are not unheard of but that would be unique. It would need verified. Of course.” Jenny was intrigued that Ricardo would have something this unique, this quick.
“I would want to verify myself. I even need to verify the source. But if it is the source he claims to be then I am sure the artifact will be genuine.” Ricardo let his subtle victory set in. “But we can talk more of this later, it is time to go to our main attraction in the Louvre today.
Ricardo pointed out a few other antiquities along the way, although his comments were more cultural and historical than about any given piece of art. He commented on the different eras in Egyptian history and how different the cultures really were. It was evident that he was a student of history.
Ricardo also discussed the contrast of warrior and philosopher in ancient Greece (Sparta versus Athens).
“I am not sure they are so different.” Jim commented.
Ricardo paused for a moment, “I am not sure what you mean.”
“One is a battle with swords and the other is a battle with words. Both seek to shape the culture to one’s views.”
“Very astute, Jim. Very astute.” Ricardo continued towards the only major section they had not yet at least walked by, the vast furniture collection.
As they approached the section of the museum that housed the furniture collection there was a rope with a sign hanging on it written in English and French, “Pardon, Section Closed. Please Come Back Later.”
“I think this means that they are ready,” Ricardo commented as he stepped around the barricade. Jim and Jenny followed without hesitation.
“You will find pieces of furniture, tapestries and other accents in here from many of the occupants of the Louvre. It is a great collection–more is stored away and not viewable by the public.” Ricardo had picked up his step and was checking his watch.
“Are we on a deadline,” Jenny asked.
“We have access without cameras for about 20 minutes. I want you to see two pieces.” He walked first to unique looking desk that had inlaid steel and bronze. “This was created by Adam Weisweiler in 1784 for Marie-Antoinette. It is a good piece, would show manuscripts nicely and has a great history.”
Observant and patient, Jim looked and then spoke, “But this is not your favorite, is it?”
“No. I believe you will like the one around the corner much better.”
Ricardo didn’t stay with this piece but immediately went around the corner. Jenny and then Jim followed. Jenny caught the piece out of the corner of her eye and then it came into full view. There was a desk with a tall case attached to the back. It was all oak and had a dagger stuck on the left side of the desk near the tall case. The woodwork was intricate and matched well except for an obvious flaw near the opposite side of where the dagger was situated. It was a different pattern that did not match the rest of the furniture piece, yet seemed to still fit in.
“That is gorgeous.” Jenny spoke first.
“It was allegedly used by Napoleon but no one is completely sure. Legend has it that he put the dagger into the desk after a military leader reported a set-back in a campaign. He told the leader that the next time the dagger would be used on him. The dagger is still there because he was never let down again by that general.”
“Where did the desk come from?” Jenny asked.
“Legend would say that he stole it from a rich family in an early military campaign. But that also is not known.” Ricardo walked to the far side of the desk. “And this is different as you see. It was damaged in an attack by Napoleon, so legend goes, and then repaired by one of the craftsmen at Napoleon’s request.”
“He requested it different?”
“He wanted something that was uniquely his, not a recreation of the old desk.”
Jim looked at the piece of furniture as if he were studying a piece of fine art. He bent over looking underneath and then around the sides. His mind, however, was just wondering how Ricardo was going to manage to get the thing out of the Louvre. He would probably never find out, but that was the most fascinating thought to him.
Ricardo stood back with his arms folded; pleased he had found a piece that Jim liked. “I can arrange this in several ways.”
Jenny looked at him. “And you can deliver wherever we like?”
“Let’s just say this furniture gets rotated out on occasion and can be put in storage for a long period of time. It would be a while before anyone goes to look for it.” Ricardo paused for a moment. “Hypothetically, this would give the most of options of where it could be ‘stored’.”
“And there are other options?” Jenny pressed gently as she ran her fingers across the top of the desk.
“Yes. I could arrange the piece to be on ‘permanent loan’ to you at your Villa at the ocean. It would be official and could stay almost indefinitely.”
Jim’s immediate thought was about a villa on the ocean that he enjoyed so much and yet had never really visited and wasn’t even sure if it really even existed. He was smart enough not to react to that information though. “So why would the Louvre want to lose such a piece?”
“The story is only legend and it is a good legend. But since it cannot be proven it does not fit with the image of the Louvre. They cannot even verify that Napoleon ever used the desk let alone any of the surrounding stories. Having this off at some rich guy’s house ‘on loan’ lets the truth die or be discovered. Either way, it is not in the authentic Louvre collection.” Ricardo explained. “But they would not want it to leave France which is why your villa sounded like a good location.”
“How much is it for this option?” Jenny responded.
“The cost of transportation and assurances it would be displayed and not altered.”
“And I would want a unique piece to display in it pretty quick.” Jim jumped in.
“I would want to get you a few. More profit in the next exchanges for me.” Ricardo concluded.
“I think we have a deal Ricardo,” Jenny concluded.
“Good. We must move on now. I do not want to cause suspicion.” They went back over the guard rails and into the main corridor where the furniture was displayed. Within a few minutes there were other people starting to walk through the gallery. “I will make arrangements to get to your Villa. Will you be in town?”
“For a few days.” Jenny responded.
“Good. I will hope to have an item for you to discuss and view. I will call you either tonight or tomorrow.”
“Thank you Ricardo.” Jim and Jenny responded almost simultaneously.
“No, thank you.” Ricardo said as he shook each of their hands.
Ricardo headed for the exit. Jim and Jenny continued to go through the museum to see a little more.
Jim had to ask. “So is there a real Villa that Jim Conrad owns?”
Jenny looked at him. “Yes, it was purchased a few years ago under Jim Conrad’s name and is one of his assets. It is right on the ocean.”
“That is nice. Perhaps we should stay there for the rest of the week.” Jim suggested.
Chapter 40 – Cairo and the bronze plate
Amir held a backpack as he entered the office of Professor Alto. Yuri followed him in as tho
ugh she were merely a hired hand sent to help out. It was late morning. They had scheduled this time because it provided the largest block of time between classes for Professor Alto. It was his request, but Yuri knew that if all went right it wouldn’t matter because he would be dead.
“You can turn off your tape recorder,” Amir said before any other conversation began.
Alto reached into his desk drawer and turned off a small tape recorder that he would sometimes use for dictation. “You were captured on video coming into the building and probably several other places on campus. So I may not have a record of what we say but I have a record that you were here.”
Amir looked at Alto; “I assure you that there is no record. There are many ways to avoid the simple security measures of most organizations. But why are you worried, you are getting paid handsomely for this work.” Amir did not know the arrangements, but knew that there had to be a decent paycheck involved or a Professor like this would simply want the piece in some museum. Most people had their price. Knowing how much Professor Alto made Amir figure that the payoff was about $150,000 US dollars or some equivalent.
“Are you going to kill me like you did Professor Blovaski? Or what you tried and maybe already did with Sir Arthur? I am no idiot. I have seen the reports out of Russia and out of London.” Professor Alto seemed nervous and was unsure how he had gotten himself into this mess. But Amir had it right, it was the money. Alto did not know it, but Amir had also guessed the amount right on the button.
“I did not kill any professor. I am getting paid to play a role in this just like you. My role is to have you provide a translation to this plate.” Amir pulled the plate out of the backpack and handed it to Alto.
Alto examined it closely, “Amazing.” He set it flat on the table and pulled a letter opening knife from the top middle drawer of his desk. “When we are done, what will become of the plate?”
“Some rich collector will buy it. It seems that is how I might get paid for my part of the job.” Amir said as he looked on. He didn’t know that for sure, but it seemed like a reasonable assumption.
Professor Alto slowly and carefully poked the knife around the edging of the bronze plate. It was encased by a wooden backing, probably added by whoever found this artifact, and then sealed with wax along the edges. It was a fine way to preserve something temporarily. As the seal broke, Professor Alto slowly pulled the plate from the casing and turned it over. He set it down and then examined the casing, the left over wax and every piece of the materials. “I cannot translate this, at least not quickly.”
“What do you mean?” Yuri spoke up out of character and looking a bit frustrated.
Amir had never seen Yuri step out of a part or even show emotion unless it was planned. He thought to himself that it is lucky that this is just a simple professor or her cover would be blown.
“I mean I was told there would be a key to translate the engraving on the back of the plate.” Alto picked up the plate and turned it around so that Amir and Yuri could see. “Do you see anything?”
Amir responded, “You read ancient languages. You are educated. Can’t you translate the text yourself?”
“I am educated enough to know that this is not a known language and figuring out the root languages and interpreting this language could take months or even years. Do you want to wait in the lobby? I mean, this is not what I was told.” Professor Alto seemed frustrated with the situation. He wanted this whole affair over with and wanted to get back to his life. Knowing what happened to Professor Blovaski and what was at least attempted on his friend Sir Arthur made the whole ordeal not worth the price he was being paid.
“But is this an authentic ancient plate?” Amir pushed.
“Yes, I would think so. I would need to run some tests but this is likely an authentic plate from some culture long ago. I would guess that Egyptian and/or Hebrew are the root languages for this writing, but it is a guess at this point.” Alto set the plate down.
All three stood and looked at the plate and contemplated what should happen next. Professor Alto was thinking through the events and then asked, “Is there a second plate?”
Amir glanced at Yuri just to be sure and then responded “No. Why do you think there might be?”
“Well, the email that Sir Arthur sent me . . . he said look at these pictures. He did not send just one picture. Now it could have been pictures of one plate or it could have been more than one plate–I don’t know how many because you deleted the attachments before I got to view them.”
Amir looked at the professor. “We did not delete the pictures from your computer.”
After a minute of bantering with the professor, Amir excused the professor so that he and Yuri could speak.
Several things did not need to be said, like there was probably somebody physically watching them while they were in Cairo. It was also clear that someone had connections in multiple locations. The thought even crossed her mind that Jim Conrad had orchestrated the whole event. Whoever it was had a breadth of resources that probably at least matched her network of connections. “Find out who.” is all that Yuri said. Amir knew that she meant who was watching them in Cairo. Attempts to find out who was behind the whole charade had not been successful, but finding one link would lead to more.
They both left. Yuri’s phone call on the street was direct. “Captain, it is not the right plate; there was nothing on the back.”
“What do you mean nothing?” The voice on the other end of the line was irritated and short also.
“I think there is more than one plate.” Yuri said baiting the question.
“What makes you think that?” The Captain said anxiously.
“Did you save a copy of the emails before you deleted the attachments?” Yuri put it out there with enough ambiguity that it begged an answer.
“It was an unanticipated email. The emails were deleted with haste and there was no copy.” The Captain answered regretfully.
Score one piece of information for Yuri. This confirmed that the mystery man was responsible for the emails being deleted, had people in Cairo and London and probably attempted to kill this Professor Arthur. “There was more than one picture which means maybe more than one plate. Since this is not the right one I will sell it for wasting my time while we try to find the other plate or plates.”
“Do not sell the plate. Perhaps the error is yours. Perhaps your KGB friend was too hasty in Bucharest and Dragos ran off with another plate.”
Score another piece of information. Her team had been followed at least as early as Romania. “Do you know where Dragos is?”
“I traced him to Paris, but have not located him yet.”
Yuri continued. “Good. That is where my contact to sell the plate is. I will find this Dragos.” Yuri paused for a moment for effect and then continued. “I will either sell the plate I have or hand it to you in person. Let me know what you would like.”
There was a moment of silence. “Sell it. We do not meet until you get the plate I want with the translation I want.” Then there was a click.
Chapter 41 – Café American Pie
Pulling the bronze plate from the bag, Dragos sat it on the table in front of Arthur. “That is the plate? On the phone Bucky said ‘plates’. Are there more?” Arthur asked cautiously.
Dragos didn’t know who to trust. He had quickly deduced that handing the plate over to this professor would not solve his problem as he had originally hoped it might. The professor was sitting in a near deserted café in Paris. There would be no public handoff as he had hoped. At this point, he was not even sure the professor would be of any help. Not knowing what his angle should be he just decided to tell the truth. It would be easier to keep track of if he did that. “There was another one, but it was taken from me.”
The restaurant was mostly empty. It was too early for a French lunch and this was not a breakfast café. The privacy was what Dragos wanted. They had asked for a quiet corner table, ordered coffee and asked not to
be disturbed.
“Who took it from you, do you know?” Arthur pushed a little.
“I think maybe we are done here.” Dragos started to pack up his things and the bronze plate to leave. The questions were making him more nervous than he wished to be.
“No. Look someone tried to kill me Sunday night. They killed my wife. I got an email from a professor, a colleague from Russia, who is now dead. The email had pictures of this plate and another one. I am desperate to figure out why.” Arthur said in a strong, stern, and desperate sounding voice.
It had not occurred to Dragos that there might be another individual as desperate as he was. Still, what if this was an act. Arthur certainly wasn’t Russian. He had a clear and distinct British accent–the same voice he had heard the day before when Bucky had called.
Dragos sat down and pulled the bronze plate back out of the bag. Looking at Arthur he said, “My friend, can you read the plate? It would help if we knew what it was.”
“It is not a common ancient language, may have some elements of Hebrew and Egyptian. It is a bit odd if you ask me.” Arthur continued to look at the text. “It looks authentic but might take months to translate or longer.”
Dragos was frustrated. “We do not have that long.”
Neither one said a word for several minutes. They were like two lost sheep that were looking for their shepherd together. Neither one of them knew who that shepherd might be. “What do we do?” Arthur finally asked.
Dragos considered the question for a moment. First he was glad he was not alone anymore in this endeavor. His second thought was that everyone he had known that got involved was now dead, would it be him or Arthur next or worse yet both of them? As for what to do, the same conclusion kept coming to mind. He did not want the plate, but as long as he had it then his life and probably this professor’s life were in jeopardy. He could draw only one simple plan. “We must sell the plate.” Of course, Dragos never minded making a little profit also.
“To who?” Sir Arthur inquired.
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