"What are you doing?" Bodmer asked. He sounded grumpy, which was normal for him. The man almost never smiled, his focus seemingly a permanent fixture that sealed his face in stone.
Tommy turned his phone around so his companions could see. For a moment, he'd forgotten they were even there.
"My apologies," he said, doing his best to sound formal. He wasn't sure why, but he felt that Wagner especially deserved his respect. "I was looking up the names on the obelisk to see what they had in common."
"Military victories of Colonel Masséna," Wagner said, as if it was obvious.
"You knew that?"
"Of course." Wagner's shoulders lifted and drooped. "We have searched for many years, across continents, and performed rigorous research into the men who surrounded Napoléon. We know much about the men upon whose shoulders the emperor stood."
"Oh," Tommy said, realizing he found himself in the unusual position of being behind. "Okay, then."
"You believe these places have something to do with the location of the relic?" Bodmer asked.
"Possibly," Tommy said. "It's possible that we need to find a map, a real map, like in a library. I wouldn't know where to find a world map here in Paris."
The other two cast a wary glance at each other, a confession of their ignorance.
Tommy went on when the two said nothing. "We could be looking at something where we need to chart out all the locations on a map in hopes of zeroing in on either the location of the relic or perhaps another clue. It's hard to know without sitting down and plotting everything out."
"You believe that whoever hid this might have created a map based on the victories of the three officers?" Bodmer made his doubts evident. "That would mean Napoléon planned out the campaign ahead of time with the sole purpose of hiding the ring in a specific location."
Tommy could see why the man thought that, though the logic was flawed. "I see your point, Commander, but it's possible that the locations on the map will not form a traditionally defined grid, as you're suggesting. I assume you've seen something like that before."
Bodmer confirmed with a nod.
"Washington is much the same as what you're saying. Its design was very specific. They've featured it on many television shows because people believe there is some kind of Masonic conspiracy behind its layout. Some have even suggested that when you connect certain streets on a map, it produces the symbol of the Freemasons. Perhaps that was on purpose, and maybe it wasn't. I haven't seen many instances where something that elaborate was done, though. This could be one of the bigger ones if that's the case. Still, it would have been done after the fact. Not before. Napoléon could have easily used the battlefield sites as markers to draw us to some other place. If we can find a map, one that will have all the places Napoléon visited during his campaigns, we should be able to tell pretty quickly whether this theory is workable."
Tommy's phone vibrated in his palm. The abrupt gyrations caught him off guard and he fumbled with the device, nearly dropping it to the hard stone path at his feet. The phone bounced off the fingers of his right hand and then toppled into the left. He was lucky to snatch it out of the air and breathed a sigh of relief. He hated buying new phones, and he had a strict policy about waiting two years before replacing his current one. It wasn't that he couldn't afford the latest or best models. He simply didn't like wasting money on something that was still functioning properly.
He looked at the screen and saw it was Sean. "Hey, what's up?"
Tommy listened as his friend described what he learned just a few moments before. A perplexed expression crossed his face, and deep wrinkles carved into his forehead. He rubbed his left temple with a thumb as Sean finished what he was saying by telling Tommy to get the other two and meet them back at the entrance to the cemetery.
"Okay, buddy. See you there in a minute."
Tommy ended the call and stuffed the phone in his pocket. He wore the look of dejection.
"What is it?" Wagner asked, sensing something was amiss. "Is there a problem?"
Tommy snickered, his eyes still staring blankly down at the pavement. He snapped out of it a second later. "No. No problem. But the map thing…yeah, it was a dead end."
"It was…is?" Bodmer corrected himself.
"Yeah, it seems Sean figured something out regarding the list with the three officers' names on it."
"What does that mean?" Wagner asked, his eyes showing concern.
"It means the map idea was a dead end."
"But Sean knows where the relic is?" Bodmer pressed.
"I don't think so. He made it sound like he has everything he needs to locate it, though. Something about a gap on the list of names. I don't really understand it. I saw that list and didn't notice a big difference between the lines."
"Perhaps he's wrong," Wagner said.
"We should go find out," Bodmer stated. "We have wasted enough time."
Tommy nodded, sensing the man's urgency. Bodmer was right. The gunman from Villers-Cotterêts could show up at any moment, and probably with reinforcements. If there was a gunfight in the cemetery, Tommy had no doubts that he and his companions would be outnumbered.
"Okay," he said finally. "Let's get to work."
33
Père Lachaise
Sean could see the main gate just around the bend. An elderly couple walked hand in hand along the path. Neither said anything as they passed Sean and Adriana. The two were looking around at the memorial stones on either side, entranced by the bizarre and classical alike.
For a moment, Sean lowered his guard and glanced at his wife. She was striking. Her features were a combination of elegant and powerful. Strange and dangerous circumstances had brought them together, but they'd developed a strong bond through the years, and he knew that bond would never be broken. He trusted and loved her with every ounce of his soul. Someday, he thought, the two of them would be that older couple walking down the lane of some distant park or cemetery or city.
Not now, though.
They strode purposefully toward the gate. There was no sign of Tommy, but that was to be expected. Sean and Adriana had a few minutes' head start on the others. It came as no surprise that Sean made it there first.
The two stepped off to the side where they'd split from the others earlier. Adriana's eye caught something to her right. Her head twisted and she noticed the refreshment cart just outside the wall. She forgot to bring a bottle of water with her and hadn't had time to pick one up. Sean, too, was without anything to drink, and she realized that the only hydration she'd received that day was from the café back in Villers-Cotterêts.
"I'm going to step out there and get a bottle of water," she said. "You thirsty?"
"Yes. Thank you. I didn't even realize how thirsty I was until you said it. Here, take my card." He reached into his front pocket to pull out his money clip, but she was already five steps away and shaking her head.
Sean's chest rose as he chuckled, watching her walk away. She was wearing black boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt. Nothing fancy, but she made everything she put on look amazing.
She stopped in the back of the line of people waiting for refreshments, and Sean turned away to watch for Tommy. He didn't have to wait long before he saw his friend appear from around a row of monuments. Bodmer and Wagner were on either side, and all three men stalked toward the gate, clearly in a hurry to get to their rendezvous. Sean was partly disappointed. For the briefest of seconds, he considered running over to the tomb of Jim Morrison to take a quick picture of it, but he knew there wasn't time.
Sean started to raise his hand to wave to Tommy when he felt something jab him in the kidneys. He laughed instinctively and turned around expecting to see Adriana sticking a water bottle into his back.
Instead, he found a face he didn't recognize. The young man had onyx hair spiked up in a mess that looked as if he'd climbed out of bed mere minutes before. He was wearing a gray windbreaker, which was probably overkill in the warm sun, but Sean knew w
hy he wore it. It was much easier to conceal a weapon with a jacket or coat than with nothing but a T-shirt on, though Sean was doing that very thing with no outerwear.
Sean couldn't see the gunman's eyes behind his aviator sunglasses, but he could see enough of the slits to tell he would not hesitate to pull the trigger.
"Stay where you are, and don't move," the gunman said in a heavy accent Sean couldn't place.
Sean watched as Tommy approached, and noted that Bodmer was slipping back a step or two behind Tommy. It was subtle, and most observers wouldn't have thought anything of it. But Sean did. He knew right then who was behind everything: the murder, the gunmen tracking them down, probably the shootout at Villers-Cotterêts. No, definitely the shootout. The only problem with that was they put their own man at risk.
Sean thought back to the gunfight. The memory flashed before his eyes. Bodmer was there. He'd fired shots, hadn't he? Sean had trouble recalling, but he thought for sure Bodmer had discharged his weapon. The man definitely took cover during the assault from the two shooters, but had he been the first to dive clear of the hail of bullets? Again, everything happened so fast, it was difficult to recall clearly.
None of that mattered. Sean saw the commander of the Swiss Guard retrieving the weapon at his hip. The movement was subtle, just like the slowing of the man's pace to get behind Tommy and Wagner. Sean saw the commander's eyes flick toward Wagner, the more dangerous of the perceived threats. He obviously didn't know as much about Tommy's background as he professed, or thought he knew.
There wasn't a second to lose. Sean had to act, despite the warning from the gunman behind him.
Sean shook his head, locking eyes with Tommy. Then he spoke to the gunman at his back. "How'd you manage to get that in here, into France I mean. They have pretty strict gun laws here, and you don't strike me as the law-abiding type."
"Stop talking," the gunman snapped.
"I'm just saying, it's weird that you have a gun." Sean let his voice grow louder with every word. "Here in France. You know? Did you get your gun illegally?"
People started looking at him as they passed by, like he was crazy. It was an easy act to pull off since many Americans joked about how Parisians looked at them with disdain when on vacation there.
"I heard that more than half the guns here were purchased illegally." Sean's voice climbed to a shout so that everyone walking by could not help but hear his seemingly random rant.
"I told you to stop talking," the gunman snapped, jamming the muzzle deep into Sean's back.
Sean grimaced at the discomfort, but his intent was already accomplished.
Tommy stopped walking, suddenly concerned at his friend's erratic behavior. He realized the danger immediately as he traced Sean's gaze over his shoulder. Tommy bolted to the left, his right hand instantly digging into his pants to retrieve the small pistol hidden there.
The abrupt maneuver by Tommy threw off the Swiss Guard commander. His intention had been to take out Wagner, or at least hold the man at gunpoint, then deal with Tommy.
Bodmer saw Tommy sprint to the left and dive behind a cluster of headstones and tombs before he could turn his weapon around and fire a shot.
Then everything broke loose. Women started screaming. Men yelled. Children weren't sure what to do, but there were only a few within sight. People everywhere panicked at the sight of the weapon. Those who'd been close enough to hear Sean's mad ravings realized—incorrectly—that the American was talking about Bodmer, who was now sweeping the path with his pistol.
Amid the chaos, Wagner vanished like a wraith, melting into the crowd and then out of view. Even Sean lost track of the man, which was no easy task.
Bodmer spun around to find the older man but couldn't locate him. Then his attention went back to finding Tommy. It was futile. Anarchy had taken hold, and now more people than Sean realized were in the cemetery, started pouring out through the gate, all running from the perceived threat.
Bodmer's face flamed. He stormed through the melee and stopped short, mere feet in front of Sean. For his part, Sean was happy he'd managed to save his friend and Wagner from whatever Bodmer had planned. His next thought was for Adriana, but she would be fine. The second people started rushing out of the cemetery, she would have probably tried to come help him, but then she would have also seen Bodmer and the guy sticking the gun in Sean's back. With Tommy and Wagner safe, Sean smiled like a child who'd just taken the last cookie out of the jar without anyone noticing.
"You did this on purpose," Bodmer sneered, slightly flicking his head to the chaos around them.
"Who, me?" Sean feigned innocence.
"Get him out of here," Bodmer ordered.
"Is there any chance you could take me by the tomb of Jim Morrison? I'm a big fan of The Doors, and this is the closest I've ever been to seeing his grave. It's sort of a bucket list item for me."
"Shut up. Get him to the car, and stuff something in his mouth so he can't speak."
"But then you'll miss all my witty banter," Sean whined.
Another man appeared out of the crowd and grabbed Sean's left arm, twisted it behind his back, and pressed it high in a way that seemed to strain every possible ligament in his shoulder. He winced at the uncomfortable position and felt a familiar tightness where he'd had surgery twenty years before on his rotator cuff. A burst of pain like hot needles swelled from the shoulder, and he feared that it might pop out of the joint for the first time in a few decades.
Then there was another pain. He knew what it was, and he knew what would follow, or he assumed he did. The tiny prick in his shoulder wasn't bad. It was barely noticeable, much less significant than the torqueing ligaments and cartilage in the joint. The result, however, was going to be far worse.
To his surprise, he didn't feel the drug being injected into his blood. Most of those that he'd endured sent either a cold or hot sensation through the skin and the blood vessels. He could definitely sense the drug entering his body, but it felt like nothing more than a sort of ooze creeping its way through the appendage.
The sensation reached his neck, and Sean knew he didn't have much time. He frantically scanned the area, looking for one face in the crowd. He couldn't see her. Was she safe? Of course she was safe. She was Adriana. She could take care of herself. Sean felt himself swaying as the effects of the drug wrapped their fingers around his mind and sent it spinning inside his skull. Everything tilted, and he would have lost his balance were he not being supported by…was it the gunman or Bodmer? Or was there someone else?
He heard the voices of the panicked cemetery visitors, but it was like thousands of people screaming into a giant blender. His arms and legs felt like Jell-O, and he was unable to make the muscles tighten enough to stand.
The gunman at his back swooped around and hooked his arm under Sean's armpit while the second man took the other arm. The two put a hat over Sean's head and a pair of sunglasses on his face. Sean was already out of it by the time they dragged him into the crowd. To most of the panicked visitors, he would look like some homeless vagabond, drunk on cheap wine.
Bodmer kept a keen eye on the gate and its surroundings as he and the other two passed through. He was specifically watching for Adriana, but didn't immediately notice her in the area. He thought he'd seen her leave the premises through the gate, though he wasn't sure.
Then he caught a glimpse of her only fifteen feet away as the flood of people surged through the exit and out onto the sidewalk beyond. She was swimming upstream, trying desperately to get through the hysterical mob.
Bodmer ducked his head as hers twisted slightly to the side. He wasn't sure if she saw him or not. He decided to slow his pace so the two men carrying Wyatt could get away.
"Get him to the car. You know what to do. I'll meet you at the rendezvous."
The younger man in the aviators nodded curtly and continued forward, vanishing a few seconds later into the crowd.
Sirens screamed in the distance. Bodmer knew he had no time
to stand around, wading through throngs of people, to find Adriana. As long as she hadn't seen them leave, the plan would still work. She would have no idea where they went or what they were planning. She also wouldn't know who was involved, save for him, which would be of no concern soon enough.
He turned away from the gate after seeing her continue to plunge ahead into the now-thinning crowd. Adriana was focused on getting back into the cemetery and finding Sean. She didn't realize that he'd been dragged right past her, only a few dozen feet away.
Bodmer stuffed his weapon back into the holster and pulled his shirt down over his waist so no one could see the peculiar bulge on his hip. He glanced around, taking one last precautionary look to make sure no one had seen that he was the one everyone was freaking out about.
No one seemed to notice.
Calmly, Commander Bodmer strode away from the cemetery and disappeared into the mayhem.
Soon, the order would be restored, and he would be regaled as a hero.
34
Père Lachaise
Adriana plunged ahead, swimming through the writhing mass of people until she managed to break through at the gate. There, the crowd thinned and she was able to walk normally—albeit with a few bumps from rushing citizens.
She cut to the left where she'd last seen Sean and noticed that he was no longer standing there. Her head twisted back to the gate. There was no sign of him. A deep frown crossed her face. Something was wrong.
She'd overheard people talking as they tried to escape the cemetery. Most of them sounded like they'd never seen a gun before, which was probably the case considering the laws there, but the fact that someone was waving a gun around in the cemetery on the exact day and time Adriana and the others were there…that was a little crazy. She'd learned long ago to let go of the notion of coincidences. In her mind, there was no such thing.
The Napoleon Affair Page 27