Chasing Lies

by Sara Claridge

  They walked in silence for a few moments.

  “Where are we going now?”

  He smiled down at her. “My hotel.” He held on tight as she predictably tried to pull away. “What, not ready for a seduction scene so early, chérie?”

  “I am not, nor never will I ever be, your chérie.”

  “Who was it that said never is a long time? Relax.” He squeezed her arm in reassurance. “I thought you’d be interested in seeing the talisman.”

  She stopped in her tracks and turned to him. “You have it with you? I thought it would be locked up behind some sophisticated alarm system.”

  “Until now it has been.” He paused, not wanting to appear too eager to divulge information. Her raised brow urged him to continue. “Although, in my experience if you’re using one thing to find another, it’s better to keep it close.”

  He leant towards her. “Though I’d appreciate you keeping that bit of knowledge to yourself.

  “You trust me?”

  Her brown eyes widened, and his mouth twitched at her shocked tone.

  “Not one bit.” He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But I’m willing to give a little bit of leeway to discover what it is that you have.”

  His hand lingered on her neck. Beneath his fingers her pulse beat a rapid tattoo. She arched her neck away and continued down the street. Her back was even stiffer than before.

  With a few quick strides, he caught up with her. “Let me hazard a guess.”

  “Okay.” She drew the word out like she was unsure whether she wanted to hear what he had to say.

  “We both know the painting that was stolen wasn’t just a piece of medieval art. Its true value is in its history, and that despite the fact that so far no one has been able to find any evidence to substantiate the claim, most collectors believe it holds clues towards the treasure of Montségur.”

  She shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe.”

  “Now, because you heard a rumour that I have the talisman also connected to the same treasure, you think I stole the painting.”

  She turned to him, those luscious lips parted and ready to retort.

  He cut her words off. “I didn’t. I admit if the painting came up for sale, I would be interested, but it’s a little out of even my price bracket.”

  “Which is why you stole it.”

  “Not this painting.”

  “So you do admit to stealing?”

  “I prefer the term acquire.”

  “Oh, good grief. I can’t believe I’m seriously contemplating going to the hotel room of a man who acquires paintings to examine a necklace reported stolen ten years ago.”

  “Who said anything about my hotel room. I’ve my reputation to protect, you know.”

  Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You do realise what I do for a living.”

  She really was too easy to tease. It hadn’t taken his contacts long yesterday to come up with the details of her life.

  “Kate Jackson. Born in Edinburgh.” No Scottish accent, though, he noted. “Studied to be a barrister in London, but curiously joined an insurance firm as part of the investigator team instead. As of two days ago, you’re the sole agent here in Maastricht.” He gave her a sideways look. “With something to prove.” The last part was a guess, but by the dismay in her eyes, he was dead on the mark.

  “Let’s not play games any longer. The necklace and the painting aren’t the only things connected to Montségur. A chanson is also part of the tale. That was rumoured to have been taken last year, although with private collectors it’s difficult to say. Reporting a piece stolen draws too much attention to the rest of their collection. I presume your firm was the insurer there, too?”

  Kate’s eyebrows raised just a fraction.

  He grasped her hand and coaxed her to step forward again. “Come on. Let me see if I can’t persuade you to reveal what you have.”

  “So you are going to show me your etchings.”

  The sound of his own laughter startled him. He glanced at Kate. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement. He didn’t know how she’d managed to elicit a response from him that he hadn’t made in a long time, but for a moment life felt a little lighter.

  Tucking her hand through his arm, he pulled her close as they walked down the street.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KATE GLANCED UP at the building they were about to enter. The bank’s emblem loomed large overhead. “I thought we were going to your hotel?”

  The automatic doors swished open, and Etienne stepped inside. “Disappointed?”

  “Not yet, but then again my expectations aren’t high.”

  His lips tilted upwards. Amusement or a sardonic response? She wasn’t sure, but his obliqueness was driving her crazy.

  “I prefer something more secure than a hotel safe.” He strode across the marble floor, leaving her to follow. Before he had even reached the adviser’s desk, the brunette was up and out of her seat, ready to greet him.

  Kate groaned at the women’s eagerness. “Does everyone pander to your needs?” she muttered under her breath. “If only they knew the truth.”

  “Jealous, chérie?” He held out a chair for her. As she sat down, he bent forward, his lips close to her ear. “You have no reason. Until you give me what I want, I only have eyes for you.”

  He straightened and took the seat beside her.

  A flush heated her cheeks. Kate took a deep breath. He was just trying to rattle her. All she had to do was stay calm.

  He started speaking to the brunette in Dutch, who simpered back at him. Kate had only picked up a few words since she’d been here, but fortunately there was a lot that sounded similar to English, and judging by the adviser’s actions, Etienne was gaining access to a safety deposit box.

  After a few moments, Etienne stood again and gestured for her to follow.

  She waited patiently beside the security guard while the box was retrieved and they were taken to a separate room.

  Once they were alone, Etienne placed the metal box on the table and swiftly opened it, removing a long, thin jeweller’s case and laid it down in front of her.

  She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows in silent question.

  “Go ahead. Open it.” His tone held a challenge as if he wasn’t sure she had the guts to look.

  Kate held her hand over the box for a moment. Once she’d seen the necklace, there was no going back. It would have to be reported. She didn’t care what Etienne Castel said. There was one thing she knew for certain, even if the facts had only come to light recently. The Coeur d’Occitània was the same piece of jewellery reported as stolen ten years ago.

  It was now or never. She flicked the lid of the case up quickly. Emeralds and pearls glistened back at her, but it was the ruby stone at the heart of the pendant that made her catch her breath.

  She turned her head to where he was leaning nonchalantly against the wall. “You know I have to turn this in, don’t you?”

  “How do you know it is what you think it is? No one but a few people have ever seen it.”

  She sat back in her chair. “I might be a little out of my depth, but I’m not a fool.”

  He shrugged. “You could tell someone, but since I’m removing it today anyway, what are you going to show as evidence? It will be your word against mine.”

  “I could speak to the bank guard right now and get him to call the police.”

  Etienne tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “Not if you want to see that painting again. This isn’t just some stolen piece of art you’re chasing. It leads to something much bigger.”

  Kate mocked him with a harsh laugh. “The Holy Grail. Yes, I’ve heard the stories of what the Montségur treasure holds. I still don’t believe them.”

  Etienne shook his head. “You’re being naive. Forget about the romantic nonsense of history books. Oui. If you find the Holy Grail or even the Book of Love it will be priceless. But that type of treasure is for academics and madmen.�
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  He straightened and took a step closer. “You’ll never see any hard cash. It will be strung out on authentication for years with ten different governments demanding it be returned to them.” He took the necklace and held it up against the bright overhead light. “On the other hand, jewels and bullion from eight hundred years ago…” His sentence lingered, and he shrugged as if the meaning was clear.

  She frowned. He mistook her silence for not understanding.

  “They offer a much simpler way of turning assets into cash.”

  His tone was softer. Did he honestly revere money above all else? Although she shouldn’t really be shocked. Why else would he risk everything to steal priceless pieces if it wasn’t for some reward?

  “Spoken like an experienced criminal.”

  “I’m only speaking the truth.” He reached over and placed it back in the jeweller’s case. “And this trinket is the proof that a more tangible treasure did exist alongside its fabled cousin.”

  She reached out and ran the tip of her finger over the outline of ruby. “The Heart of Occitania?”

  “Bien sur. A talisman to guard the owner.”

  “Can’t be much of one. Didn’t someone die back in the summer?” She must remember to double check his file later to see if there was more information.

  “One could argue that the person who morally owns this is still alive.”

  “You?”

  His lips twisted into a mocking smile at her scornful tone. “Disappointed, chérie?” He paced back across the small room. “I don’t rely on talismans to keep me alive. I’d rather go on gut instinct. While the necklace is legally mine, there is someone to whom it has a value that can never be replaced.”

  “A woman?” The kick in the gut caught her by surprise.

  His gaze softened. “Do not be jealous, princesse. She loves another.”

  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested.

  Kate shook her head to clear her thoughts. “So are the rumours true?”

  “It only takes one person with enough resources to believe in the stories for madness to ensue and there are plenty of people who believe that the Cathars, knowing that attack was inevitable, moved their valuables a few months earlier in December.”

  “Including the Holy Grail.”

  Etienne shrugged. “Whether that was amongst the gold or if that left with the four men who went over the side in the days immediately before thousands of royal troops descended on the castle a few months later is unknown. Either way, rumours of a vast treasure have always abounded and this…” His hand almost dismissively acknowledged the necklace. “Along with the painting, is believed to show the way.”

  “And what do you want, Etienne?”

  “It may surprise you, ma chérie, but the same as you. For everything to be returned to their rightful owners.”

  “Not the Holy Grail?”

  “I am neither a madman, nor an academic. Nor do I believe it exists in material form. However, while others do, it will always be a cause for greed, not good.”

  “And you’re really going to leave here with this in your pocket?”

  “Why not? No one would believe that I have it with me. You’re the only person who knows.”

  Now they were getting to the crux of the matter. “Why are you telling me?”

  “So you trust me.” He lowered his voice. “You do trust me, don’t you, Kate?”

  “Like a snake in the grass.”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I suppose that’s only to be expected, but when I leave here tomorrow, what will be your next move?”

  “You’re leaving?” Her voice was high, and the question came out almost desperate. While she might be that, it wouldn’t do to give herself away so easily. Kate cleared her throat and lowered her pitch. “Does that mean you know where the painting is?”

  “I’ve always known where the painting is. This is more about setting the scene with the right bargaining chips.”

  “So where do I fit in?”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. She’d do well to remember that Etienne operated on a whole different level than anyone else she’d met.

  “The troubadour’s song.”

  “What song?”

  “Don’t play games, Kate. The chanson is the third item believed to point the way to the Montségur treasure. If you had something to bargain with in the park yesterday, that had to be it. Not handling stolen goods yourself, are you, princesse?”

  “It’s a copy.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realised her mistake. The spark of triumph in Etienne’s eyes confirmed it.

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  He didn’t even need to tell her what it was for her to know it was a deal with the devil.

  “Wouldn’t you like to have the opportunity of not only solving one problem for your boss, but another, too?”

  So smooth. So tempting.

  “At the moment I have the necklace to draw out the painting. Whoever has it most certainly will want the necklace as well.” He paused. “And the poem.”

  “How do you know he doesn’t already have a copy of the poem? The chansons were duplicated so they could be performed by others.”

  “But not many exist today, and this particular copy is known to have markings down the side. I believe together with the painting they might show where the Montségur treasure is hidden.”

  Ha. Then he’d be wrong. But it was scary how much he did know about a piece of paper only a handful of people had seen.

  “Plus Mercier is still looking for a copy. I’ve already let it be known that the troubadour’s song is within my grasp.”

  “That’s very confident of you.” And very worrying for her. Had Etienne really rescued her in the park, or had he actually been there to rob her, too?

  She’d never felt more exposed in her life. With Carl already in the hospital, she needed to watch her back. She placed her hands in her lap and willed them to stop shaking. “What do you stand to gain from this deal?”

  “The Montségur treasure, of course.” His answer was too quick. His tone too glib. Kate wasn’t sure she believed him, but then what else was left?

  “So let me get this straight.” She paused, playing for time, trying to gather her thoughts. “I help you hoodwink another criminal with stolen goods, while aiding you to steal the treasure, and in return I get the poems, the painting, and the necklace?”

  “Not the necklace. I told you I own it legally.”

  “It’s listed as stolen.”

  “Hmm. Are you interested?”

  No! Collaborating with Etienne Castel went against every one of her principles.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket with an incoming text. She pulled it out and glanced at the message. The replacement agent would arrive within twenty-four hours.

  She should clear it with her boss. At least that way she’d be covered over handling stolen property. Except Barrett would tell her to wait and pass the whole deal over to someone else.

  She’d spent so much of her life running away from people like Etienne Castel that the situation would be almost laughable if it wasn’t for the abhorrence stuck like a lump in her throat.

  She choked down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.

  “I’ve hit a snag.”

  DISBELIEF WASHED OVER Etienne, and he turned sharply towards her. “A snag?”

  “A problem, an unexpected obstacle.”

  Etienne grimaced. “I know what a snag is. I just can’t imagine what could possibly be the problem.”

  “I need another copy.”

  “You’ve lost the one you had?” No way could she be that stupid.

  “No. You don’t understand. I need to verify some of the information.”

  “Explain verify information.”

  She looked away, staring at an invisible mark on the wall in front of her.

  He softened his tone. “Trust. Remember, it’s a two way street, Kate.”

&nbs
p; Her gaze flickered at him for a moment and then dropped to the table. “Carl and I had been focusing on the marginalia. It’s the detail that makes each copy individual.”

  She paused to pull out a photocopy of what looked like an old parchment. “Sometimes whoever made the copy got creative with the initial letters of verses like this one here.” She slid the sheet of paper across to him. “Others made the equivalent of medieval doodles in the blank space of the margins.”

  “Is this the actual chanson?”

  “No, this is a completely different poem. I’m just using it to illustrate what I mean.”

  Etienne sat down at the table opposite her, put his elbows on the table, and rested his forehead in his palm. His patience was wearing thin. “So you’ve made an error and think you have the wrong one.”

  “No.” Her tone was forceful, and then as if she realised she might have given too much away she modified it. “Maybe. I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

  “Kate.” He sat back in the chair and met her gaze. “I’ve trusted you with seeing the Coeur d’Occitània. Don’t you think it’s about time you levelled with me?”

  Not that she had a clue what she was looking at. When she hadn’t immediately turned the necklace over to look at the inscription, she gave away how little she understood.

  Kate pursed her lips, and just as he’d started to worry that he wouldn’t be able to persuade her to tell him voluntarily what she knew, she muttered, “I think a line is missing.”

  He leant forward. “What brought you to that conclusion? I presume some of the world’s experts have pored over that copy. Surely they’d have noticed.”

  “I don’t think so.” She reached for the document again. “I think they did the same as Carl and me. Focused on the layout, the parchment, the scribblings in the margin and so on. They studied the translation and considered other variations of words or phrases. However, the translation immediately removes the rhyming and the rhythm, something that is unique to each chanson.”

  “Wouldn’t the translator have noticed?”

  “Only if they also had a real interest in the poems.”

  Etienne ran a hand through his hair. “Which they probably wouldn’t have, because whoever hired them would be worried about exposing too much.” He flicked the paper back around and studied it for a moment. “How did you spot it?”