Nicholas stiffened. “There’s no luring. KLH is a respected employment firm. I asked Madame Bishop to mediate our contract because I wanted to be open and above-board. She will ensure there’s a paper trail, and she can assist you in contacting my references.”
“Who are your references?”
“The Minister of the Interior, for one.”
Acacia restrained a laugh. “The Minister of the Interior would vouch for you?”
“Yes.” His dark eyes focused on hers. “In one of our conversations you mentioned the theft of a Degas while it was on loan in Marseilles. You’re probably aware the painting was recovered.”
Acacia nodded.
Nicholas smiled. “I was involved in the recovery.
“I can offer you a contract through one of my Paris offices. You’ll receive an excellent salary and benefits, which Madame Bishop will outline. The contract would only be for one year. After that, my current executive assistant should be able to travel.”
“If I leave the Victoire, I lose my work permit.”
“As I said, the Minister of the Interior is a friend. I can secure a temporary work permit for you and apply for an EU blue card.”
“An EU blue card?” Acacia couldn’t keep the longing out of her voice.
“Yes. Usually EU blue cards can only be secured after a year, but given my connections, we’ll try to fast track it. Once you have a blue card, you’ll be able to live and work in the European Union indefinitely. KLH can act as your reference and help you find work as a concierge after your contract with me is complete.”
“This is all very generous, but I still don’t understand why you’re offering me a job. We had very little contact at the hotel and much of it was unpleasant.”
“I apologize for my unpleasantness.” Nicholas’s eyes took on a new intensity. “Even in the face of such challenges, you manifested several qualities I admire.”
“Such as?”
“Honesty. Integrity. Civic duty.”
Acacia was tempted to offer sarcasm, but Monsieur Cassirer’s expression was earnest. “You made at least two outrageous demands at the hotel. A bespoke suit in a matter of hours? A relic? I’m not keen to work for a person who treats his staff in that way.”
Nicholas’s dark eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”
“Those tasks were a test?” Acacia lifted her voice.
“In my life, I’ve known precious few people I can trust. Given Marcel’s activities, it was highly likely you were also involved. I had to know for certain.”
Acacia stood, hands shaking, and placed her empty water glass on the table. “I don’t appreciate being a test subject.”
“I would feel the same way. But you called the BRB.” He smiled. “I was impressed.”
She scowled. “Is that why you threatened me when I mentioned the meeting Marcel was setting up? Because you found me impressive?”
Nicholas’s smile fled. He stood. “I was worried you’d get hurt.”
“So far only two people have threatened me: you and Monsieur Roy.”
“Roy is a snake.” Nicholas made a fist with his right hand. “You’re a person of integrity in a workplace surrounded by vipers. I’m offering you a way out. Further, I’m offering you an opportunity to work with me to restore stolen art to the great galleries of Europe. It’s a tremendous opportunity.”
“What if I don’t like working for you?”
“Then quit. This isn’t indentured servitude, mademoiselle. You can quit at any time, provided you give adequate notice. But I believe we will work well together. Certainly, working for me will be more secure than working at the hotel.”
“Wouldn’t I just be leaping from the frying pan into the fire? I’m still not sure who you really are, Monsieur Cassirer, assuming that’s your real name. And your work is dangerous.”
“I don’t take unnecessary risks, and I’m not a thief. Money usually exchanges hands in these transactions, which is why I’ve been successful. I have excellent security, which would protect you as well.”
Acacia remained unconvinced.
Nicholas studied her features. “There’s risk in everything, Acacia. Right now, you are in a position to choose what happens to you before someone like Roy takes that choice out of your hands.”
Acacia picked up her briefcase. “Thank you for your offer, but I cannot accept it.”
Nicholas placed his hands on his waist, flaring out his suit jacket. “You’d prefer to stay at the Victoire than work for me?”
“You tested me for your own amusement, and as a result of that test, I’ve been demoted and my career is in jeopardy. I need to find another job as soon as possible, hopefully one where my employer doesn’t treat his employees as lab rats.”
Something flared in his eyes. He was silent for a moment. “I should remind you that you’ve signed a confidentiality agreement, which means you aren’t to speak about anything we’ve discussed.”
“I understand.” Acacia retrieved her briefcase. “Goodbye.”
Nicholas didn’t reply.
Acacia felt his eyes on her as she walked to the door.
Chapter Fifteen
IT WAS A QUIET EVENING on the night shift.
Acacia attended to her list of tasks and made notes for the daytime concierge. Then she sat at her desk, deep in thought.
Madame Bishop had been surprised when Acacia declined Monsieur Cassirer’s job offer. She’d mentioned the salary and the prestige attached to becoming his executive assistant.
Diplomatically, Acacia had said she wasn’t a good fit. Madame Bishop made no secret of the fact she thought Acacia was being foolish, but she accepted her decision.
Sitting at her desk in the empty lobby of Hotel Victoire, Acacia wondered if Monsieur Cassirer’s new identity was itself a fiction. It was possible Madame Bishop was colluding with him to deceive her. Perhaps he was still angry over his arrest and fixated on revenge.
Acacia decided to Google him.
Googling Nicholas Cassirer provided very different results than when she’d searched for Pierre Breckman. There were pages and pages of entries on Nicholas, centering on his family and their vast financial empire. The Cassirers were involved in a variety of charitable and philanthropic endeavors.
Acacia found several photographs of a youthful, unscarred Nicholas at black tie functions, including a few images of him with a petite blond woman who was identified as his girlfriend. In more recent photographs, the blond was absent and his face was bearded, his scar concealed.
Acacia puzzled over Nicholas’s choice to appear unshaven and scarred while assuming the identity of Pierre Breckman. From what he’d said during their encounter at KLH, the scar was genuine. He seemed to have gone to great lengths to hide it while appearing in public as Nicholas Cassirer.
She clicked on a news item from 2007. The article made reference to the theft of several works of art from the Cassirer Foundation Museum in Cologny, Switzerland. Scanning the story, Acacia focused on three lines:
“The curator of the museum, Mlle. Riva Cassirer, was attacked during the robbery and died as a result of her injuries. Mlle. Cassirer’s great-grandfather, Édouard J. Cassirer, founded the museum. She is survived by her parents, Armand and Hélène, and her brother, Nicholas.”
Acacia stared in mounting horror. Nicholas’s sister was murdered.
The photograph that accompanied the news story showed a young, smiling red-haired woman with warm, brown eyes. The article referenced her education at the Sorbonne, as well as her devotion to public art education and the use of art therapy. She’d founded a number of scholarships and had opened the doors of the museum to children for several programs.
In that moment, Nicholas’s quest to recover stolen art took on new meaning. Art theft was a crime that almost never involved violence. The murder of Riv
a Cassirer was shocking, her life and good works snuffed out.
Acacia searched the internet for more information, but a recent article in a Geneva newspaper confirmed that the stolen items, which included a Degas and a Monet, had never been recovered. Riva’s murder remained unsolved.
Acacia closed her laptop. Now that she’d seen the smiling face of Riva Cassirer and learned of her tragic death, the image would haunt her. How much more did Riva’s death haunt the Cassirers.
Nicholas’s work had to be propelled by the loss of his sister. Perhaps he viewed his activities as a tribute to her, or at the very least, an attempt to right one of the wrongs that had been done to his family. Acacia wondered how far he’d go in his quest. In any case, he probably gave little thought to exacting revenge against her. He had a far more important, far more dangerous mission.
Her meeting with Monsieur Cassirer had been a revelation. Not only did she learn his true name, she’d learned the truth about what was going on behind the scenes at Hotel Victoire.
Marcel had arranged a meeting that, according to Nicholas, was related to a stolen painting. Then Marcel had been viciously attacked. Acacia wasn’t an expert on crime, but it was clear that both the attack on Marcel and the attack on Nicholas’s sister were atypical in the art world. Nicholas was the common link to both crimes.
Acacia reflected on his overreaction to her mention of the meeting Marcel had set up. She could accord Nicholas some compassion, given the loss he’d suffered. No wonder he traveled with such an extensive security detail. No wonder he’d been so persistent she quit the hotel.
When Acacia’s shift ended the following morning, she was still thinking about Riva Cassirer and her brother. She changed into jeans and motorcycle boots and exited through the service entrance at the back of the hotel.
It was after seven in the morning, and the sun had already risen. She’d parked her motorcycle illegally behind one of the dumpsters, having persuaded hotel security to turn a blind eye. Nicholas had warned her to be cautious when traveling to and from the hotel, but his warnings were superfluous. She didn’t want to end up like Marcel and would do anything in her power to avoid it.
Acacia hadn’t told Luc about her interview with Monsieur Cassirer, but he’d continued to provide her with BRB surveillance when she traveled to and from the hotel. As she walked toward the dumpsters, she looked for the unmarked car that had been parked in the alley when she arrived at work that evening.
The car was gone.
She looked toward the street, hoping to see the previous car’s replacement. But the alley and what she could see of the street were empty.
She stopped, puzzled.
Without warning, someone grabbed her from behind. A hand gripped her throat while the other tightened across her abdomen.
Acacia tensed as her worst fears were realized.
“Where’s the book?” the man whispered in French.
Relief flowed through her at the sound of the familiar language. He was not who she feared he was.
Acacia dropped her backpack and helmet and dug her elbow into the man’s side. She plowed into his kneecap with her foot and scraped the sole of her boot down his shin before stomping on his toes. He released her, howling curses in a language she did not understand.
Acacia whirled around and punched the man in the throat.
He dropped to his knees and clutched his neck.
“Get on your bike and get the hell out of here!” a voice shouted in English.
Acacia turned and saw Rick, Nicholas’s bodyguard, running toward her. Ahead of him by a few strides was another man, large and powerfully built.
Acacia gaped at Rick, then grabbed her backpack and hopped on her motorcycle. She kept her eyes trained on the two men as she switched on the vehicle.
Rick tackled the man from behind before he reached Acacia.
With a rev of the engine, she piloted the motorcycle around the dumpsters. She raced onto the street and wove in and out of traffic as adrenaline flooded her system.
She was halfway home when she realized she’d left her helmet behind.
Chapter Sixteen
ACACIA PARKED HER MOTORCYCLE in front of her building and ran inside; she climbed the steps to her flat as if the Devil himself were chasing her. Inside her jacket, her cell phone rang.
She ignored it.
Once she was locked safely in her apartment, she sank to the floor, her body shaking. She covered her chest with her hand and took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow.
No one had followed her from the hotel to her apartment. No unmarked car sat downstairs in view of the front door to her building. She was completely unprotected.
Claude meowed his greeting and rubbed his ear against the side of her leg. She kissed the cat’s head and pulled him into her lap.
When her cell phone rang again with an unknown number, she hoped it was Luc. “Hello?”
Acacia could hear movement on the other end of the line—the echoing of footsteps and then a low, gravelly voice. “Rick called. Where are you?”
Acacia’s heart quickened. “How did you get this number?”
“You listed it on your curriculum vitae. Are you hurt?” Nicholas’s tone was clipped.
“No.”
“Good.” He let out a loud exhalation. “Rick failed. No one should have gotten close enough to touch you. He said you handled yourself well, however.”
“What was Rick doing outside the hotel?”
“I asked him to keep an eye on you when the BRB pulled their surveillance.”
“They pulled their surveillance? No one told me.”
“Probably because the person doing the surveillance was paid off.”
“Why?” Acacia breathed.
The man paused. “You know why.”
Acacia shut her eyes. “Did you set this up? Is this some kind of game?”
“I’m not a thug, mademoiselle,” Nicholas snapped.
Acacia placed Claude on the floor, stood, and double-checked the locks on her door. She peered through the viewer. The hall was empty.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Goodbye.”
“Wait!”
The footsteps that had sounded in her ear ceased, and Acacia heard a muffled sound, as if Nicholas was covering his phone with his hand.
A few seconds later, he returned. “You aren’t safe in your apartment. The man who attacked you may have followed you there. Rick is on his way.”
Acacia looked through the viewer again. “You think they’ll come here?”
“One of your assailants escaped. If he knows your work schedule, he probably knows where you live.”
“What do they want?”
Nicholas’s voice grew soft. “They want to solve a problem. I’m sorry to say it, but you appear to be that problem.
“Rick expected hotel security to intervene because they have cameras covering the back of the hotel. No one appeared, and no one called the police. The man Rick wrestled with had a gun.”
“They had guns?” Acacia slumped against the door.
“Yes.”
She made a noise in her throat. “I spoke to one of the security guards before I started my shift. He let me park my motorcycle behind the dumpsters, even though it’s against the rules.”
“Precisely.”
“He told them.” She placed her hand on her forehead. “He told them where I parked and then sat back and watched.”
“You have to leave Paris.” Nicholas’s tone grew urgent. “Rick will escort you to the airport, and one of my men will accompany you to Geneva. You’ll be safe there.”
“Is this what happened to Marcel? Hotel security told someone when Marcel was off duty and where his motorcycle was parked?”
“I don’t know.” Nicholas breathed a heavy sigh. “It’s possib
le.”
“If I go to work tonight, I’ll end up like Marcel.” She tugged at her hair. “If I don’t go, I’ll lose my job and my work permit.”
Monsieur Cassirer made an exasperated noise. “I can put a security detail on you, but Roy will ban them from the hotel, and you’ll be unprotected. They underestimated you this morning; they won’t repeat that mistake.”
“You want to help me get out of Paris?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nicholas lowered his voice. “I don’t want your blood on my conscience.”
Acacia felt a chill travel down her spine as she remembered what had happened to Riva Cassirer.
She heard footsteps through the telephone. There was a pause and they began again. Nicholas was pacing.
“The hotel isn’t safe. If security saw Rick this morning, they’ll discover his connection with Pierre Breckman. Whoever is looking for you will start looking for me. I’m not waiting until I’m found.”
“You think they’ll come after you?”
“I’m not sure what they want. But if you quit the hotel, they may wash their hands of you.”
It’s the journal, Acacia thought. There’s only one book these men would want, and that’s Marcel’s journal. The security cameras in the lobby must have caught me retrieving it.
Acacia didn’t share her realization with Nicholas. She listened to his pacing and his agitated breathing. He wasn’t giving up.
Claude looked up at her and meowed.
“What’s that?” Nicholas almost barked.
“That’s my cat.”
“She has a cat,” he murmured. “Of course she does.”
He cleared his throat. “You can take your chances at the hotel, but since you can’t rely on their security, you’ll be at risk. You can go to the police, but again, it will only be a matter of time before the persons who are after you elude the police. It’s possible they’ve already paid off the BRB.”
Acacia picked up Claude. “If you’re worried they’ll come after you, then we have a common enemy.”
“All the more reason for us to work together.”
The Man in the Black Suit Page 9