To Run With the Swift

by Gerald N. Lund

  I still couldn’t make myself accept it. “And you really think she is out to destroy us?”

  “Yes, I do,” he answered quietly. “Financially. Socially. Emotionally. Spiritually.” He said each word slowly and precisely, just as Louis had done earlier. “And we walked right into it.” Then, with great sadness, he said, “You do understand why you’re having such a hard time accepting this, don’t you.”

  That caught me off guard. “I ... no, I guess I don’t. I like her. We’ve become good friends. I’m having trouble picturing her as this horrible monster.”

  “I’m not talking about your friendship. I am asking why you are having such a hard time seeing any danger here.”

  He had me, and I knew it. And the only defense I could see was to go on the offense. “If you are right, then why did I feel so positive about her? Why didn’t I have any sense of evil or danger?”

  “Maybe because she convinced you that Le Gardien was not chic. Maybe you were just a little ashamed of the pouch.” He glanced back, and I saw the sadness in his eyes. “And maybe that’s why you ‘forgot’ and left it in your room today.” He quickly held up a hand. “I’m not saying you did it deliberately, Danni. But it’s like she has somehow convinced you that Le Gardien is something to be a little bit ashamed of.”

  Deeply stung, I struck back. “Oh, yeah. What about you? Why didn’t you see this coming? Why didn’t you see her as the dragon lady?”

  In a voice so quiet I could barely hear him, he said, “Because I am not the keeper of the pouch.”

  That hurt. More than anything I could remember. It cut me like a knife.

  On the defensive now, I changed the subject. “And I suppose Philippe is part of this sinister plot against us as well?”

  “Of course. He’s a banker, Danni. How do you make several million dollars in ransom money disappear? How do you fund complex, international operations or bribe prison guards and federal judges? It’s the perfect cover for him.”

  “That would explain Juliette’s outburst about Hitler last night,” Rick suddenly said. It was clear he had accepted Grandpère’s theory and was now looking for examples that supported it.

  “Precisely,” Grandpère said. “What you heard was the Nazi line of propaganda.”

  More and more it made sense, which only wounded my pride all the more. “And what about being innocent until proven guilty?”

  “I didn’t suggest we call the police and have her arrested. I just asked that we say nothing about Louis in front of her.”

  I threw up my hands. “All right! I accept the possibility. I admit it makes sense in a lot of ways, but I hope you’re wrong and that you are going to owe her a very big apology.”

  “If so, I will make sure you are there when I offer it to her.”

  I was a total basket case by the time we entered the hotel lobby. My fear for my family—in spite of all my protests—was gnawing at my gut like a pack of ravenous rats. My confidence in Juliette’s innocence was eroding very quickly. Grandpère’s suspicions had a lot of merit, no matter how vigorously I wanted to believe in her. And even though it made me mad, in a way, that Rick didn’t take my side, I had always trusted his instincts. He had that gift of what Dad called “an enormous amount of common sense,” and for now he was standing solidly with Grandpère. Most of all, if I was right and there was some simple explanation for all of this, why weren’t Mom and Dad answering their phones?

  I hung back, letting the two of them go through the revolving doors first. Once inside, I stepped to one side, scanning the lobby for any sign of my family or Juliette. There were quite a few people in the lobby, either sitting in the various lounge areas or coming and going. Everyone stared at Grandpère in his uniform as he strode quickly across the lobby to the front desk. He was oblivious to them. Seeing that I had stopped, Rick came over and joined me. He started to say something, then evidently thought better of it and turned to watch Grandpère.

  I couldn’t bear to watch, and yet I couldn’t take my eyes from him as the front desk clerk kept shaking his head as Grandpère asked him question after question.

  The chariots are here. Sick at heart, I finally understood what that meant.

  Grim as death, Grandpère turned away from the desk, motioned to us to follow, and headed toward the bank of elevators. As we joined him, an older couple waiting there got on the elevator with us. So we said nothing as we ascended to the fourth floor. As we got off and started down the hall toward our rooms, I started to say something, but Grandpère shook his head. “Let’s get inside,” he murmured. “Make a quick trip to the bathroom, then we’ll meet in your suite. Hurry!”

  The first thing I did had nothing to do with the bathroom. I went right to my suitcase, which was still lying on the bed where I had tossed it. I threw it open. Everything looked exactly as I had left it. I dropped to my knees, pawing through it like a wild person. Not there. Le Gardien was gone! I jumped up and looked frantically around the room, trying to remember if I had put it somewhere else. But I knew I hadn’t.

  I dropped back down on my knees and buried my face against the bedspread. “Oh, dear God,” I cried. “Help me. Help me find our family.” But all that came out was this deathly silence—in the room, and inside my heart. And then I realized that what I had done earlier today might turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life.

  My room was joined to Mom and Dad’s with a connecting door. I opened it and then let Rick in to join me. Two minutes later Grandpère knocked softly. He was back in his civilian clothes. He also had his phone to his ear, speaking in a low voice with great urgency. “I’ll call you if we learn anything,” he said in a clipped voice, then he tapped the phone to end the call and put it in his jacket pocket.

  “That was Clay in Paris. He and his team will be on their way to Caen within the hour.”

  “Did you tell him not to contact Interpol?”

  “I did. They’re also going to look into that possible leak. They’ll come here by helicopter. I also gave him Louis’s number, and he’s calling him right now to get a full briefing.”

  “If Mom and Dad have been abducted, we have to call the police, Grandpère. Now!”

  He came over and took me by the hand. “No, Danni. If it is an abduction—and we’re still not one hundred percent sure that it is—then we don’t dare call the police. We are dealing with a highly sophisticated group of criminals. It likely they have someone on their payroll among the gendarmes here in Caen. It’s too great a risk. We have to wait for Clay.”

  “And the desk clerk hadn’t seen them at all?” Rick asked.

  “No, and he’s been on duty since noon.”

  The buzz of a cell phone cut into my growing despair. For a moment, I thought it was Grandpère’s, but then I realized it was mine. I leaped to where I had dropped my parka and clawed at the pocket. “Maybe it’s Mom.”

  It wasn’t. I saw from the display that it was a French number. One I didn’t know. I tapped the screen and jammed it up to my ear. “Hello.”

  “Danni?”

  I instantly recognized the voice. “Philippe? Is that you?”

  I turned. Both Grandpère and Rick moved closer. I quickly tapped the button to put it on speakerphone.

  “Danni? Is my mother with you?” It came out blunt and hard.

  “No, Philippe. She and my parents and Cody got sick up at Omaha Beach. They came home earlier. We just returned. We can’t find them.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “Uh ... it was about three o’clock. They took a taxi back to the hotel, but—”

  “I just received a call from a group who claim they have kidnapped Mother.”

  I gasped. “No!”

  “They are demanding ten million Euros in ransom. I thought at first it was some kind of a sick joke, because I knew she was with your family.”

  Grandpèr
e snatched the phone from me. “Philippe, this is Jean-Henri. Our family are not here either, though they should have been by now. Did these people say anything about them?”

  “No.”

  My hand shot to my mouth and I bit down hard.

  “They told me to come to Caen and find your family as quickly as possible,” Philippe explained. “They will call us with further instructions at nine p.m. sharp. I’m at the airport now, just boarding an air taxi. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “Can we pick you up at the airport?”

  “No!” He literally shouted it. “Their instructions were very specific and related to you as well as me. You’re to wait for me there at your hotel. You are not to leave for any reason, or they said the direst consequences will follow.” There was a momentary pause, then, “Have you made any phone calls since you got back?”

  Grandpère shot me a puzzled look. “Why do you ask?”

  “They said you are not to make any phone calls. Especially not to the police. From what he said, I think they’re monitoring all of our phones. Did you call the police?”

  “We talked about calling the gendarmes here in Caen but decided it was better not to.”

  “Good. Don’t call anyone.”

  I was staring at him. The look on his face was one of anger. And why not? He was sure that Philippe was part of it. But if Juliette had been kidnapped, then ... I was stricken. I no longer knew who to believe and who to trust.

  “Stay put,” Philippe commanded. “I’ll bring help with me and we’ll sort this out.” And he hung up.

  As Grandpère turned to face Rick and me, I burst out in tears. “Not again, Grandpère. This can’t be happening again.”

  Grimly, he nodded. “We don’t know for sure, Danni.” He handed me back my phone, his face deeply troubled.

  We stood there for a moment, almost paralyzed. Then he suddenly straightened. “I want you and Rick to go back to your rooms. Put on your warmest clothes. Then pack your things as quickly as possible. I want you back here in three minutes. Hurry.”

  “Pack? Where are we going?”

  “Just do it, Danni,” he cried. “Something’s not right, and staying here is not the way to find out what it is.”

  “But where will we go?”

  He suddenly looked very sad. “Why don’t you ask Le Gardien that?” And with that he herded us into my room, shutting the door behind us.

  I grabbed blindly at Rick’s hand. “Oh, Rick. The pouch is gone. What have I done? What have I done?”

  Before I could answer, the door jerked open again and Grandpère stepped in. Through the blur of my tears, I saw that he was holding something in his hands, and my heart leaped for joy. He was holding Le Gardien.

  In one leap I was to him, but as I went to take it from him, he pulled it away. “You took it?” I cried.

  “Yes, I did,” he murmured. “I thought someone ought to.”

  “I know,” I wailed. “I’m so sorry, Grandpère! I’m so sorry.”

  His face softened. “I know you are, my dear, but have you forgotten Humpty Dumpty so soon?” He quoted softly, “‘All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.’” He looked away in frustration. “I tried to warn you. When I said that the chariots were here, Danni, did you think that it was just the ravings of a senile old man?”

  I looked away, stifling a sob.

  “But all is not lost, my dear. The fleurs-de-lys have been passed to you. Le Gardien has made his choice. He is your blessing and your burden now, my child.” And he handed the pouch to me.

  I had never known that shame could bring such physical pain. I wanted to thrust it at him, make him take it back so the guilt might lessen even a little. But I couldn’t. It was our only hope, and I was desperately in need of hope. I clasped it to my body in quiet urgency.

  Then, suddenly, Grandpère stepped forward, his arms outstretched. I fell into them with a wrenching cry. He crushed me to him, which only made me cry all the harder.

  And suddenly, he was crying too. “Ah, Danni, Danni. You remind me so much of myself when I was your age. So don’t give up. And if something were to happen to me ...” He had to stop and take a deep breath. “Just remember. I love you with every fiber of my being.”

  He started to pull away, but I clung to him. A cold, dark feeling was shooting through me, and I was terribly frightened all of a sudden. “Grandpère, don’t leave me. Please.”

  He lifted my head and wiped away the tears with his thumbs. Then he kissed me softly on both cheeks. “I will never leave you, child. Remember that. No matter what you may think. You are not alone. Adieu, my love.” He wiped at the tears. “Now go! You must hurry!” He whirled and went back into my parents’ side of the suite. I saw him take his phone out of his pocket as he shut the door behind him. To my further surprise, I also heard the lock click, and moments later the murmur of his voice.

  Rick and I came out of our rooms at almost the same instant. I was in my parka again, and this time Le Gardien was on my shoulder outside of it. “You ready?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Rick, I ...”

  “It’s all right.” He grabbed my hand. “This is why I came.” One of his crooked little grins broke out across his face. “Nowhere I’d rather be right now, even if I don’t get much sleep.”

  We walked down the hall to Grandpère’s room. I set my suitcase down, tapped on the door, and called softly, “Grandpère? We’re here.”

  I came back over to Rick, standing close enough that our shoulders touched. He reached down and took my hand. I grasped it like it was a lifeline thrown to someone who had just washed overboard. We stood there that way, not speaking, for almost a minute. Then, puzzled, I went back to the door and knocked a little louder. “Grandpère? We’re here. Can we help you?”

  I leaned in to listen. There was no sound. I looked at Rick. He came over and joined me, then rapped sharply with his knuckles. “Grandpère?”

  Nothing. Rick reached down and turned the handle. To our surprise, the door was unlocked. Rick gave me a questioning look, but I was already pushing it open and moving through it. The first thing I saw was that his suitcase and overcoat were on the bed, but the duffel bag was gone. “Grandpère?” I was fighting hard to keep the panic out of my voice.

  “Look, Danni.”

  I turned to see what Rick was pointing at. On a small writing table, a white envelope was visible. I raced to it and snatched it up. The envelope had hotel letterhead, and on the front there were three words. Danni and Rick. The horrible feeling was back. I ripped it open and cast the envelope aside. Rick moved up to read it with me. And what I read pierced me more sharply, more terribly than anything I had ever experienced before.

  My dearest Danni and Rick,

  My being here is what has put you and my family in extreme danger. It is me they want to destroy, and they know that the most effective way to do that is through those I love. So I must go. The pipes are calling.

  Remember this always. Just because there is no flame doesn’t mean the fire is out. And just because the pouch is empty doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.

  Adieu.

  With great love. GP.

  The paper slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the floor. “No, not adieu. Please. Not adieu.” I turned and buried my head against Rick’s chest as the shuddering sobs started in yet again.

  Rick held me tightly as I rocked back and forth. Finally, he said, “I thought adieu just meant good-bye.”

  I stepped back, shaking my head. Then I wiped at my eyes. “In French, they say good-bye with au revoir, which means literally ‘to see you again,’ or ‘until our next meeting.’ But adieu means ‘to God.’ The implication is that you believe that you shall not see that person again and so—” The words caught in my throat. “And so you commend them to God’s care.” />
  Rick pulled me close as I burst into tears again. He stroked my hair over and over, whispering, “It will be all right, Danni. It will be all right.”

  I’m not sure how long we stood there, numbed and stricken. I was just glad that Rick had come. Otherwise, I would be alone now. Totally and utterly alone.

  A sharp knock on the door brought my head up with a snap.

  “Danni?”

  It was Philippe’s voice. I squeezed Rick’s hand, then pulled free. “Philippe’s here.” I walked to the door and unlocked it, then opened it. He burst past me, shoving me aside roughly with his shoulder. “Mother! Are you in here?”

  I gaped at him. “She’s not here. I told you that she was—” Philippe strode past Rick and jerked open the bathroom door. “Where is your grandfather?” he barked back at me.

  “He’s ... he’s gone.”

  He spun around, snapping his fingers. The door to our room had started to close behind me, but it slammed open again with a bang. Four men in the uniform of the Police Nationale—the national police force of France—came busting into the room, pistols drawn and looking very ready to use them.

  “Seize them,” Philippe shouted. “These are the ones who kidnaped my mother.”

  The nearest man stepped up to me and thrust his pistol into my face, so close that it almost touched my nose. He was smiling warmly at me, and that frightened me even more than the pistol did.

  “Hola, Señorita Danni. Es tan bueno volver a verlo.”

  My gift of translation was back. I understood perfectly what he had said. “Hello, Miss Danni. It is so good to see you again.” And then I realized who it was wearing the gendarmes uniform with its round cap. It was Raul Muñoz, known also to me as Doc. As I gasped, he did two things at the same time. With one hand, he jerked Le Gardien off my shoulder. The other came up with a large, wicked-looking syringe filled with liquid. I fought back, kicking at his shins, but he only laughed and tightened his grip. Eyes filled with relish, Doc plunged the needle into my right upper arm. I felt an instant burning spreading through the flesh.