"Anyway," the Frenchman said with a nonchalant shrug, "have a look around. If you'd like to see anything in the files, please, don't hesitate to ask. Most of the important documents are out for anyone to see, but I am more than happy to assist you if you wish to see more."
"Thank you, Dr. Thuram," the two echoed.
"Of course. Now, I must go through my usual rounds. A group left a few hours ago, but we have the afternoon visitors on their way. I'll check back on you soon."
The two watched as their gracious host disappeared out the door. Then they turned to each other.
"Let's get started," Tara said with an excited smile.
Alex nodded but kept his excitement toned down. There was still something unsettling his gut and he didn't know what it was. He glanced out the nearest window and, having seen nothing unusual, set to work with his wife.
21
PARIS
Sean and Tommy had been imprisoned for nearly thirty-six hours, and the two were growing tired of it.
Sean worried about Adriana, wondered how she was faring in her cell. Then he reminded himself that it wasn't her he should be concerned about. It was anyone else in a cell with her. Heaven forbid she was in a big holding tank with several others. He doubted that was the case. The cell she occupied was probably much the same as his. But he'd hate to think what would happen if some other detainee tried to start something with her. Doing so would not go well for the other woman.
Tommy let out a frustrated groan and leaned his head back until the back of his skull pressed against the wall. He flapped his lips as he blew air through them.
"Don't ask," Sean said, irritated.
"What?"
"Why's this taking so long. Don't say it. You've already asked fifteen times."
"Well, we've been here for nearly two days and I haven't heard anything."
He did have a point. In the past, whenever they'd been in some sort of legal trouble such as this, their connections had always come through and usually with remarkable rapidity. This time, however, Sean might have gone too far.
His former partner and now director of Axis had warned him multiple times about getting into trouble. Most of the time, he blew off the warnings with bravado or bluster. Now, however, Sean was forced to rethink that. Maybe she really wasn't going to help him this time.
He shook off the thought. That couldn't be the case. Emily wouldn't just leave him there to rot—unless it was to teach them both a lesson. If that was it, she would eventually come to their rescue after she felt enough time had passed. Unfortunately, Sean didn't know if they had a lot of time.
Bodmer hadn't been arrested since he was with the attendant at the time and wasn't directly implicated in the vandalism, though the police had detained him for questioning.
If anyone had some pull with the police, it should have been the commander of the Swiss Guard.
Sean and Tommy had way too many connections to still be stuck there, which caused a small measure of concern to well up in Sean's belly. He felt the familiar tightness creeping up through his esophagus. It was driven by the thought that, perhaps, they had fallen right into a spider's web. Was someone else pulling some strings to keep him and Tommy detained while they searched for the lost artifact?
A commotion came from the end of the corridor. Heavy bolts clicked and slid through their housings as the barred entryway was unlocked in multiple gates. A couple of men spoke French to one another, and then there was a curt “oui” at the end of the conversation.
Footsteps followed, and within seconds two guards appeared. They didn't look happy. In fact, if Sean had to guess, they were there with nefarious intentions.
"Step back," one ordered with a sneer. He had his hand on the pistol at his side and appeared ready to use it if necessary.
They weren't going to shoot the two of them. Not there in the jail. That would cause too many problems. There were witnesses, cameras, and then there would be the little matter of disposing of the bodies. It was unlikely these two guards could manage getting Sean's and Tommy's corpses out of the building without raising suspicion.
Then another figure appeared. It was Commander Bodmer.
The first guard shouted toward the other end of the hall, and a moment later the cell door unlocked with a short buzzing sound. It swung open, and the two occupants looked out warily.
The Frenchman didn't say anything like "you're free to go" or some other clichéd crack. Instead, he simply stepped back to his right to allow the men to pass by.
"Bodmer?" Tommy looked up, surprised that the commander was the one who’d managed to get them free.
"Sorry it took us so long. The…Holy See is not given to handling matters like this often, and when they do it is almost never a fast process." The commander's tone was sincere, and he looked both men in the eyes with sympathy. "I hope your stay here wasn't…uncomfortable."
"Well, it ain't the Ritz, that's for sure," Sean said. "But we've had worse." He stepped over to Bodmer and slapped the man on the shoulder. "Thanks for bailing us out."
"You can thank Cardinal Klopp when you see him again."
"He was the one who made the call?" Tommy's surprise heightened to match the rising tone of his voice.
"Let's just say he helped."
The guard to the right grunted, his way of telling them they needed to get moving.
"Yes, well," Sean chirped, "thank you boys for your company." He looked at the guard with chagrin. "You've been extremely hospitable, and please, give my compliments to the interior designer here. This place is lovely." He glanced back at the drab cell with feigned sincerity and then headed toward the exit.
The men collected their belongings after they were processed. Once they were back out on the sidewalk in front of the precinct, Sean took out his phone and inspected the device. The edges were smooth, and the seam was almost unnoticeable. It took someone who knew what they were doing to take apart a cell phone without damaging it in some way. If one or more of the cops was dirty, which was almost certainly the case, he would expect them to try to hack into his device. From what he could tell, there was no physical damage to the phone. That was only the first thing to check, however, and he set about scanning the screen when he unlocked it to make sure there were no new apps installed and that it was running correctly. The last thing he noted was the Bluetooth and Wi-Fi, inspecting those features to ensure no one was tracking him or connecting to his device from a remote location.
From what he could tell, it looked like no tampering had occurred. He saw Tommy going through the same process. It was something Sean had taught him to do the previous year, just in case they were ever captured or arrested—again.
"Thanks for getting us out of there," Sean said to Bodmer as they stepped away from the precinct entrance and walked down the sidewalk with the commander in the lead.
"I apologize for it taking so long," the man said.
Tommy scoffed with an audible pfft. "Please, none of our other connections seemed able to help us. And we're friends with a former president."
Bodmer arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Wait," Sean said, halting the procession. "Where's Adriana?"
"She's in the rental car I picked up. Just up the street."
Sean felt a wave of relief wash over him. For a moment, he had started to panic, and for no reason. Of course, Bodmer would take care of her first. It was the chivalrous thing to do.
Sean was about to say something, but his phone started ringing. He recognized the 404 area code and shook his head. "Of course she is."
"What?" Tommy asked, looking mildly concerned.
Sean raised one finger, indicating he needed a minute, then answered the phone. "Well, hello there, Emily. How are you?"
"Sean? Are you okay? Wait. How are you answering the phone? I thought you were in jail. Again."
"Just got out." He was tempted to add "no thanks to you," but he knew better. His friend and former partner had bailed him out of trouble like
this more times than he cared to recount.
"Oh. How?"
Sean eyed their Swiss companion casually. "We had a little help from a higher power." He emphasized the last two words with a layer of mystery.
"Oh…kay," she said, dubiously. "Well, I'm sorry. I've been monitoring an undercover mission we're running, and I've been out of contact with the rest of the world for the last three days."
"Did it go okay?"
"Yes. Everyone got out safely. Well, everyone except the target, of course."
"Of course." Sean thought back on the times he'd been the trigger man for that target and how he'd handled things. It never bothered him, taking the life of someone who was going to hurt others. It wasn't until later, years after his time with the agency, that he realized why it didn't bother him. That part of him still felt foreign, like a person he'd just met and wasn't sure he liked or wanted around.
"Well, if you're okay, I'll leave you to whatever…thing you're doing over there."
"Keep your phone on next time. I might need your help again."
"That wouldn't surprise me."
"Thanks for checking in, Em. I'll talk with you later."
Sean ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket. The three walked along the street and then cut over to the crosswalk, backtracking twenty feet until they reached a black luxury sedan.
Sean's eyebrows lifted as he noted the smooth ride the commander had procured. He made out a figure inside and recognized Adriana immediately.
The three climbed into the car with Bodmer taking the wheel.
Sean eased into the back with Adriana, letting Tommy ride shotgun.
"You okay?" Sean asked his wife, putting his arm around her and pecking her on the cheek with a gentle kiss.
"Need a shower," she said, "and some fresh clothes. Why did they keep us so long?"
"We vandalized a historical monument," Tommy said with more than a dash of regret in his voice.
"I have a room not far from here. Since I wasn't detained, I had to find accommodations. We can get something decent to eat near there at a little café I've been to before. They make excellent sandwiches and quiches, as well as some terrific desserts."
"That sounds amazing," Sean said. "Let's refuel, get cleaned up, and find out what's going on with the kids."
Tommy was holding his phone to his ear as Bodmer pulled out onto the road. "Way ahead of you."
22
ST. HELENA
Nearly forty minutes had passed, and Tara and Alex hadn't found anything of note in the "archives" of Longwood House.
Dr. Thuram returned about thirty minutes into their investigation and made himself comfortable at a little workstation in the corner, reading over forms and checking email on the computer.
The two visitors had looked through everything on display and come up with nothing. It was time, they figured, to have a look at the hidden files.
Thuram was more than happy to assist them and disappeared for a moment to retrieve some white gloves from a closet in the back of the cottage.
Once everyone was wearing the gloves, Thuram unlocked one of the file cabinets and pulled out the drawer. A new smell flooded their nostrils. It was the scent of old paper; parchment to be exact. Thuram rechecked the humidity of the room for a second time and then nodded to his guests.
"Feel free to look through any of these you like. Just…be careful. Not that I need to tell you two that."
Tara and Alex smiled appreciatively.
"We will," Tara reassured.
The man gave a nod and returned to his workstation, removing the gloves to continue pecking away at the keys on his computer.
Inside the file cabinet, rows of plastic sleeves hung from rods on either side. This kept the contents of each sleeve from settling or crumpling on the bottom of the drawer.
Tara removed the first sleeve and took it over to a wooden table. She laid the plastic onto the flat surface, while Alex retrieved a second document and repeated the process. They looked carefully over the parchment but found nothing of use. With each failed attempt to find anything meaningful, the couple replaced the documents and retrieved others.
There were random memoirs of long ago battles, people the general had known during his time in the military, friends he'd made along the way, and even some poetry. What they didn't see, however, was anything that related to the riddle Tommy discovered in Paris.
They pushed on, working their way through the first drawer, then the second, and then the third.
Another half hour passed as the two moved on to the second file cabinet. The ferry's horn groaned in the distance, and they realized that the boat would be arriving soon, which meant their time in the vault was probably drawing to a close.
They worked faster, though still careful enough not to concern their host and certainly not so much that they would damage anything.
While these documents were, apparently, less important than the ones on display, they were still precious, invaluable pieces of history that had been penned by one of the most domineering figures to have ever walked the earth.
They were into the second drawer of the second cabinet when Alex found a sheet he thought looked a bit odd. He furrowed his brow in confusion at the parchment, staring at the empty page. Empty—save for the image of a rose at the bottom and a few words.
"What is it?" Tara asked, noting his curiosity and abrupt silence.
"I don't know," he said with a shake of his head. "It's just a list of three words. They look like names."
"Set it aside, and move to the next one. We're running out of time."
"No need to rush," Thuram said. "I will go meet the new arrivals and then come back. It's not a problem."
She heard what he was saying, but Tara didn't want to be a burden, and the man had already gone above and beyond what was required of his station.
Despite what Tara told him to do, Alex continued to stare at the page as if searching for an invisible answer. "Why would this be in here if it didn't have anything on it but a couple of names?" he wondered out loud. "And what's with the rose?"
"I don't know. Maybe it was a mistake."
Thuram took notice of their conversation and turned around, twisting his body and resting his right forearm on the back of the wooden chair. "What is it?" he asked.
"This page," Alex said, holding it aloft so the man could see it. "It's just a list of three names and a picture of a rose on the bottom. Why would Napoléon create this?"
Thuram rolled his shoulders. "They say he wasn't in his right mind during his last days. He started calling out to people who were long dead—friends, usually—people he lost along the way. That's a common occurrence, from what I've been told."
Alex had heard the same, though he couldn't confirm it. He'd never been around death much growing up.
He frowned and took the sheet over to the table where he laid it flat on the surface.
"What are you doing?" Tara asked.
"I don't know," he uttered just above a whisper. "There's something odd about this. And look at the spacing between that last name and the one before it. Why is there a gap between them?"
"A gap?" Tara leaned over her side of the table and gazed at the parchment. "I mean, yeah, I guess it looks like there's more space there, but who cares? The guy wasn't using lined notebook paper. Plus, you heard the caretaker. The general wasn't in his right mind during the final days."
"I guess," Alex said. He stared at the names, unwilling to let them go.
"Dumas, Masséna, Augereau. What do those names have in common?"
He took the phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the parchment, making sure he kept the rose in the shot as well. Then he tapped the screen and sent the image to Tommy and Sean. They could take a look at it when they got out of jail, if they weren't already.
He noticed that the images weren't going through and quickly surmised that the cell signal was too low to send any kind of pictures or video. He grimac
ed at the inconvenience and moved over toward the window, holding up the phone to find a place that might have just one more bar that would allow the message to go through.
"Trying to get a signal?" Tara teased.
"Yeah. I know you don't think that sheet is anything worth looking at, but think about the clue they gave us. Heroes. It mentioned heroes. Maybe these are the names of those heroes."
Thuram shrugged.
Alex was at the window now, holding the device as high as he could. The sun shone brightly in the sky. Its rays glistened off the sparkling water of the ocean. Alex was about to turn away from the window when he caught a glint of something from the tall grass of the slope that ran between the beach and Longwood House.
Fear ripped through him, and he instantly dove backward toward his wife.
"Get down!" he shouted.
His shoulder barged into Tara's back as she was leaning over the table, analyzing another letter from Napoléon. The force of his tackle drove her into the door with a thud. Pain surged through her shoulder, but it would pass.
A small pecking sound cracked through the room just as the two hit the floor. There was a second, then a third. The last two were followed by thumps on the far wall, and it didn't take a genius to realize what was happening.
The glint of light Alex had seen through the window was the reflection from a scope.
"You okay?" he asked, staring down at his wife as he covered her body like a human shield.
She nodded. "Yeah. Shoulder hurts. You should have played football."
He snorted at the insinuation. "Not big enough." He crawled off her and drew the pistol from his hidden holster. Their gear bags were on the other side of the room, which looked like a long way considering the circumstances.
Alex stared at the door, keeping his weapon trained on the entrance.
Tara drew her weapon and looked toward the workstation where Thuram had been working when the shooting began.
"Alex?" There was a coating of sadness in her tone. Her question pulled his attention from the door and he followed her gaze to the little computer desk.
The Napoleon Affair Page 17