[JJ06] Quicksand

by Gigi Pandian

  Lane and Sébastien gave me funny looks. “What are you doing?” Lane whispered.

  “Never mind,” I said. “I won’t keep you two. I just thought someone at home should know that I changed my plans. I’m no longer in Paris. I’m going to be at a Loire Valley wine country castle hotel for the rest of the week. With Lane.”

  Sanjay didn’t respond immediately.

  “Sanjay?”

  “I heard you. Thanks for letting me know. Sorry I can’t talk now. Tempest has me kind of tied up. Have fun.” The phone clicked off. What was that about? And what was his magician friend Tempest Mendez—stage name The Tempest—doing there?

  “Bye,” I said to dead air.

  Lane gave me the briefest of kisses goodbye before he and Jacqueline disappeared through the sliding doors of the train station. And with that, both of the men in my life disappeared with other women.

  After we dropped Lane and Jacqueline at the train station in Rennes, Sébastien and I drove on to Mont Saint-Michel. The clouds opened up and blanketed us in rain, but the deluge only lasted for ten minutes. Though the road was slick from the downpour, Sébastien knew how to handle the car. Part of me wished we’d have been able to take the convertible Boxter. Sébastien’s wild white hair seemed to be calling out for wind to whip through it.

  “The last admission to the abbey is at five o’clock,” I said. “Do you think we can make it in time?”

  He shifted gears smoothly as we exited a roundabout on the outskirts of Rennes. “But of course.”

  Lane had given Sébastien the copied abbey key he’d made, so it would be possible to get into the abbey after hours. But it would be easier for Sébastien to get the lay of the land if he could do so openly first.

  We drove without speaking for a few minutes as we left Rennes behind us. The air between us was a combination of companionable silence and nervous apprehension. But as soon as we passed the ring road that circled the city, Sébastien’s shoulders relaxed.

  “I have never liked cities. This,” he said, hitting the accelerator, “is much better.”

  My head pressed into the back of the comfortable seat as the car took off. With Lane and Sébastien on my side, I felt like anything was possible.

  “How did you meet him?” Sébastien asked.

  “Sanjay?”

  “I already know that story. He saw your tabla drum case in the boot of your car. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, so he made flowers magically appear for you.”

  “That can’t be what he said.”

  “No.” Sébastien said, glancing at me as we passed green plots of farmland. “He didn’t say that, but I could hear it in his voice. That boy is in love with you.”

  I gawked at Sébastien. “Magicians can’t actually read minds, you know.”

  “If you insist.” A wicked grin flashed across his face, but he kept his eyes on the road. “Alors, I meant for you to answer how you met Lane.”

  “He’s an art historian. Our work overlaps, so I sought his help with a research project last year.”

  “The two of you are very alike, you must realize. In a more fundamental way than you and Sanjay.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lane is an observer of human nature, and therefore is good at adapting.”

  I thought of how North called Lane The Chameleon, but I didn’t express my thoughts out loud. Vineyards passed by in a blur as we sped down the highway.

  “It’s a quality that reminds me of how I was in my day,” Sébastien continued. “But Sanjay...The boy charges forward without thinking. His ego outweighs caution.”

  I laughed.

  “You agree?” he asked.

  “That’s definitely Sanjay.”

  “That quality is why he’s a masterful stage performer in a way I never was. I prefer the sidelines, as does your friend Lane. Yet—”

  “What?”

  “Both of these men in your life, they are both illusionists.”

  I’d never thought about it like that before, but Sébastien was right. Was he also right about Sanjay’s feelings for me? Was that why Sanjay had acted strangely on the phone just now?

  The drive was only supposed to take a little over an hour, but I expected it would take longer due to the storm. Instead, the earlier heavy rains seemed to be keeping people off the road. When the castle-like crest of Mont Saint-Michel came into view through the mist, it was shortly before five o’clock, less than an hour after we departed Rennes.

  Since cars weren’t permitted to drive onto the island, we were forced to park at the parking lot next to the shuttle bus station and ride the shuttle bus along with the rest of the tourists. It was late enough in the day that there were fewer tourists heading toward the island. Most of them were headed the other direction, leaving for home at the end of their day as modern pilgrims. We passed crowded shuttle buses heading back to the mainland.

  Sébastien and I were to go straight to a hotel we booked on the phone on our way there, with Sébastien doing all the talking. Since it was off-season, we had our pick of rooms. To remain secreted away, we selected a cabin high on the Mont, several steep alleys away from the main tourist street. The abbey would be closing shortly, so we hurried on the cobblestones. I wore my heels in the car, but switched to flat shoes before we trekked up the steep Mont.

  “Why did you insist on bringing so much luggage?” I asked, lugging one of the two large bags Sébastien insisted on taking to the island. “You said we weren’t going to bring too many of your engineering supplies until you saw what we were up against.”

  “Ah, I was wondering when you’d ask.”

  “You’re not going to answer?”

  “Isn’t a little mystery a good thing?”

  Ten minutes later, Sébastien and I had made our way up the narrow streets and were inside a hotel room similar to the one Lane and I had shared the night before. I dropped the heavy bag Sébastien had given me onto the sloping hardwood floor just inside the door, pulling off the hat and glasses that were the bulk of my disguise. I tossed the hat and glasses onto the closest bed and surveyed the room. Even though the twin beds were smaller than the standard American twin beds I was used to, they filled more than half of the room. The thick, timbered beams along the ceiling were low enough that Sébastien had to duck his head to reach the window. He pulled open the curtains.

  “We should probably keep those closed,” I said, rushing to his side.

  “Pourquoi? Ah! Of course.” He pulled the curtains closed. “Forgive me, I’m not used to this type of illusion.”

  We hurried to the abbey, going over our plan. If either of us was caught doing something we shouldn’t be, we were to act like tourists who had become separated. He was my elderly French grandfather showing me the sites of France, and I was his impetuous American granddaughter who was more interested in chasing handsome Frenchmen than spending time with her frail grandfather. I was getting over a breakup with my American fiancé, thus the escape to France to see a grandfather I hardly knew.

  A lie, like an illusion, is believable because of the details, Sébastien said. He taught me to say “J’ai perdu mon grandpère” — I lost my grandfather — but aside from that it was perfectly reasonable that I spoke no French, as it was perfectly reasonable that I would know so little about my grandfather based on the story we’d set up.

  We made it to the ticket counter at a few minutes before five o’clock and bought tickets to enter the abbey. I thought things were finally going our way—until we reached the crypt.

  Unlike the previous day, when the scaffolding sat unused, North now stood a few yards in front of me.

  CHAPTER 35

  I jumped back and flattened myself against a column, motioning for Sébastien to get out of their line of sight. I was far enough
across the room that I didn’t think North and his men had seen me. More than a dozen other tourists ambled through the room, their attention drawn not to the black-haired American woman who was acting oddly, but to the vaulted ceilings of thick stone.

  “It’s them?” Sébastien asked, his voice low.

  I nodded, my heart pounding. “We need to go.”

  “Now’s your chance.”

  A toddler wailed at the other end of the crypt, claiming the attention of anyone who could hear.

  With Sébastien at my side, I made a hasty retreat out of the crypt. He fell into step beside me. We didn’t stop until we were back in the cloisters.

  “Slow down.” He wheezed and braced himself against a column.

  “Oh Sébastien! I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  He stood up straight and grinned. “I was convincing?”

  I stared, dumbfounded.

  “D’accord. I think I will have a chat with your friends.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I do hate to be serious, but in this case it’s for the best.” He raised a hand to his ear. When he removed it, a small piece of hearing aide was showing.

  “I think your hearing aide is falling out.” I hadn’t noticed before that he wore one.

  “Très bon. Very good. It looks like an assisted hearing device, no?”

  “It’s not?”

  “Look at your phone.”

  A choppy video feed illuminated the screen—currently showing my own surprised expression.

  “The video camera!” I said, before remembering to lower my voice. I needn’t have bothered. Half the tourists in the cloisters held cameras in their hands, while the other half stood to pose for pictures. “Isn’t the camera a little too visible?”

  “I’d say it’s showing just enough. It needs to be visible. That is the misdirection. If I were to wear it on my sweater or coat as a pin, that would arouse suspicion by those who would be looking for such things. But a device to help an old man hear? This, nobody will question.” He tapped a key on the cell phone Lane had given him.

  “But you can’t just—” I broke off as the phone buzzed. “You’re calling me?”

  “Aren’t you going to answer?”

  I answered the phone. At least that meant I didn’t have to keep looking at my own frustrated face on the phone’s screen.

  “Allô? Jaya? Is that you?” Sébastien’s eyes twinkled.

  I rolled my eyes. “Oui, grandpère?”

  “Bon. The camera has no sound, so we must maintain phone contact as well. Stay here. My phone remains on in my pocket so you can both see and hear everything I do.”

  “This isn’t the plan. You can’t—”

  Before I could finish my thought, he turned on his heel and trotted back in the direction of the crypt. I lunged to grab his arm, but he sensed it and dodged out of the way. He was faster than I gave him credit for. Short of tackling him and making a scene, there wasn’t anything I could do.

  In the seconds before he left my line of sight, I watched his spry step change to the feeble steps of an elderly man as he disappeared around the corner. I stopped, as he knew I would. I wouldn’t risk entering the section of rooms where the men were working.

  Damn illusionists.

  I pulled my scarf and hat more firmly around my head, and slipped an earbud into my ear so I could listen to Sébastien’s phone while I watched the video. I held the phone in my cold hands, listening to ambient noise and watching the video bounce to the rhythm of Sébastien’s steps. He walked through the stone rooms at a slow pace, playing the role of a harmless, infirm old man.

  My throat caught when North came into view. This was really happening. Sébastien was going to confront him. My instinctive reaction was to call Lane, but I didn’t do it. There was nothing he could have done.

  North was with both Marius and Dante, along with another man I didn’t recognize. The new man was the only one dressed in workman’s clothing. A lock of Sébastien’s white hair fell over his ear, obscuring half the lens. I was still able to see most of what was happening. The new man pointed animatedly at the scaffolding as North shook his head. Both Marius and Dante stood a few feet away, their arms crossed across their chests.

  The sound coming through the phone echoed ominously as Sébastien walked deeper into the crypt. I caught snippets of conversation coming from the people Sébastien passed. He stopped a few feet away from North, but his head was turned toward a stone column that must have been five feet wide, one of the many impressive architectural features that kept the abbey’s floors from caving in.

  I could no longer see the thieves, because of the angle of Sébastien’s head, but they were close enough that I could hear them. I recognized the voice of the man who hadn’t looked familiar. It was the new man who’d been in the crypt the previous night. He spoke in French with North. I didn’t understand most of what they said, but I caught several recognizable words, including “accident.” Did that mean they didn’t suspect Lane and I had been poking around?

  I didn’t have time to think more about it. Sébastien turned his head toward the men. His voice came through loud and clear as he spoke rapidly in French. Sébastien’s words tumbled over one another.

  What was he doing? Was he nervous? This was a horrible idea. He’d told me he hated being on stage. And here he was walking into the spotlight.

  A moment later, I realized I was wrong. I understood what he was doing. He wasn’t nervous. He was playing a role. He wanted them to ask him to switch to English, no doubt so I could understand the conversation. Which is exactly what North did.

  “There is a problem?” Sébastien asked.

  North’s scowl turned into a salesman’s plastic grin. “Not at all! I’m a history buff, and I was asking this man about the renovations going on here. He’s an excitable fellow, that’s all.”

  Sébastien tilted his head in time for me to see the unfamiliar man rub his neck nervously. A crucifix hung from his neck. When he was done rubbing his neck, his hand went to the crucifix.

  “You are the engineer?” Sébastien asked the fidgety man. “I was an engineer in my day. I can see this scaffolding isn’t safe.”

  “No, monsieur. There was a small accident. That is all. There are frequently tremors, and sometimes tourists go where they should not...” He rubbed the crucifix. Even on the small screen, dark circles stood out under his eyes. “This scaffolding is set to be moved, so I will make sure it is secure before anyone uses it.”

  “May I be of assistance?”

  “Merci, monsieur, but we—I mean I—I mean nobody will be working here until tomorrow. We will fix it then. Maintenant, it’s nearly time to leave.”

  “I didn’t realize renovations were taking place in this part of the abbey,” Sébastien said.

  He was pushing his luck...

  “There are very many sections being renovated,” the fidgety man said. “And many rooms are simply being checked for structural damage.”

  “That’s what’s going on here? Checking the walls for structural damage?”

  Sébastien, for the love of God, don’t say anything else.

  “Oui, monsieur.”

  Sébastien took a step forward, but he was looking up as he did so. He lost his balance and stumbled into North.

  The video feed went fuzzy, but the sound remained strong. A grunt and hurried footsteps. The video returned a moment later, pointed upward at an angle.

  “Pardon,” Sébastien said. “How clumsy of me. This body of mine is not what it used to be.”

  “Don’t worry, sir,” North said. “May my friends and I help you back to your room? We were getting ready to leave.”

  “I’m meeting my granddaughter in a few minutes. But thank you.”

  Th
ough I could only see their disembodied heads and the vaulted ceiling braces on the video screen, it looked like he extended his hand for North to shake. The smile never leaving his face, North shook Sébastien’s hand, then waved goodbye.

  Sébastien reached me less than a minute later.

  “This is terrible!” he exclaimed.

  “You can tell me about it later. We should hurry.”

  “Yes, I believe they were telling the truth that they, too, are leaving.”

  It was a good thing Sébastien was as fit as he was. We ran through the abbey, not looking back. Because of the vast rooms and courtyards, we had to be sure to stay well ahead of North and his men. Once we reached the cobblestone paths outside the abbey, we slowed down, but not by much.

  “Having trouble keeping up with me?” Sébastien asked when I paused to look behind us.

  “I was thinking,” I said, “that I’d love to take you home with me so you can be my jogging partner.”

  “I might take you up on that one day. But first—”

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  By the time we let ourselves into our hotel room, the impact of what we’d seen had caught up with me.

  “That was stupid,” I said. “Really stupid. We can’t change plans like that.”

  “We learned they do not suspect you and Lane to have damaged their equipment.”

  “I’m glad to know it for my peace of mind, but it doesn’t change anything. Don’t do anything like that without consulting me first, okay? It’s too risky.”

  “Even if it means this?” He held up the clay impression of a key.

  “We already have the keys to get into the abbey later tonight. You know that.”

  “You said you wished to get inside and see the documents that are keeping him one step ahead of us, no?”

  “Of course I do. But blowing our cover isn’t how I’d like to get there.”

  “This,” Sébastien said, making the lump of clay disappear and reappear in his hand, “is an impression of the key to North’s hotel room.”