by Lee Lamond
Austin was in the hotel dining room, having a breakfast of coffee and more coffee, when he saw Paulette’s car stop in front of the hotel. His head was better, and the pain was under control, but he was not at his best. Exiting the hotel, he saw Madeline sitting in the front seat and began to laugh. He walked up to her window, still laughing.
“You look worse than I feel,” said Austin.
Madeline looked up at Austin and did not reply.
Paulette leaned over and spoke to Austin through Madeline’s window with her strong French accent. “Please be kind to my sister. She is not feel well.”
Austin got in the back and continued to laugh. He liked Paulette, but he was feeling more intimate with Madeline. He had seen her at her best, and now he saw her at her worst, and he liked both versions.
“So what time did the party break up last night?” he asked, knowing it had gone far into the night.
“My sister and I talked until about three this morning,” replied Paulette.
That explained a lot, but it was fun, and other than the temporary problems that Madeline had, everyone had a good time.
The drive to the barn took about fifteen minutes along a winding road into the countryside. Through his window Austin saw a romantic view of vineyards and cows, with haystacks covering the meadows around him. Gladieux’s nephew was at the barn, as promised. Both the barn and the farmhouse were about as old as the town of Saint-Abban. A tall stone wall surrounded the barnyard, and a pathway led up to the farmhouse. The boxes had been removed from the loft, along with an ample covering of straw. Boxes such as these were a familiar sight to those involved with recovering art.
With reverence, Madeline approached the three boxes leaning up against the barn wall and recognized several key earmarks.
“Austin, this is a classic way that the Nazis packaged stolen art. Notice the number here,” she said, pointing to a corner of one box. “This is called the ERR number, which stands for Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg. In English that would be Special Task Force of the Reich Leader Rosenberg. He was the guy who had the responsibility of stealing any form of art that might reside in a private or public collection, and he did an excellent job. The number indicates the art that was taken, including the name of the artist and the name of the art object, with other information. These art objects were often defined as abandoned art, and in some cases they were abandoned because the owner was either running for his life or dead or dying in one of those terrible camps. When we get these boxes back to the Louvre, our people will use this information to try and build what is called the provenance, or trail of ownership. In this case we are not concerned about who owned it two hundred years ago, but who owned it in 1941. However, I will be very surprised if they could not tell us who owned them from the day they were painted. There could be claims against this art, and if that is true, we will make an effort to return the paintings.”
She was worried that mice or rats or rain might have made their way into the boxes, but everyone agreed that the boxes were in excellent condition. Using a crowbar provided by the priest’s nephew, they carefully opened the largest box. Inside was a dramatic painting showing a king surrounded by a scene of war, including the victors and the dying. Years of storage had covered the painting with dust and dirt, which could be addressed when it was moved to the Louvre. They opened the other boxes, revealing a painting of a church and a portrait of a nobleman of perhaps the fifteenth or sixteenth century. The paintings meant nothing to those in the barnyard. Was this the “art of little importance” that Vassar had spoken about, or was it a significant discovery? The people back at the Louvre would know more, but to Austin Clay the paintings looked important and were something to be rescued.
Madeline told the nephew that she would arrange for the paintings to be picked up and would call to confirm that he would be available to sign the paperwork. Austin helped move the art back into the barn, and then they headed back to the village. A truck would probably be there on Tuesday or Wednesday.
The train back to Paris was at three o’clock. After lunch Louis took the opportunity to talk with Austin in private.
“Austin, my wife is concerned about something, and she asked me to talk to you about it.”
Austin was almost sure he knew what was coming.
“Austin, according to my wife, Madeline is very interested in you, and perhaps I am not stating that correctly, but let’s say it is an emotional connection. My wife is concerned that somehow Madeline will be hurt and suffer like she did before. What we are asking is that you be aware of this. I know that this is not our business, and we hope that you are enough of a man to do the right thing if you believe that the relationship is not going to work.”
Although Austin had guessed the topic of the man-to-man discussion, he was not really prepared to give an answer. “Louis, I am very impressed with Madeline and perhaps impressed is not the best word. I came to France on a mission and not to find a girlfriend, but life is funny and you never know what might happen next. I am not sure where my relationship with Madeline will go, but I guarantee that hurting Madeline is not an option. I just hope she does not break my heart.”
Louis and Paulette took Austin and Madeline to the train station. In light of the discussion with Louis, Austin now saw Paulette as a protective sister who was watching out for Madeline and who was perhaps Austin’s best promoter, if that was the way fate willed it. As the train came into the station, Louis extended his hand with a smile, and Paulette put her arms around Austin and gave him a hug. It was Paulette’s way of giving her approval.
Once on the train, Madeline waved good-bye to her sister, and then she and Austin were on their way back to Paris, seated side by side.
“Did you have a good time?” asked Madeline.
“I did. You sister and brother-in-law are great people, and I did enjoy the visit and the party very much. Thank you for inviting me. Please excuse me if I don’t drink any more wine for a few days.”
Austin reached down and held Madeline’s hand, and she leaned into his shoulder. Austin had a technical education, and he always expected a cause-and-effect relationship. Whatever the cause, Austin was accepting the outcome that he was living.
“I wanted to ask Louis, but I decided not to … but what is wrong with your one nephew?”
“Benjamin?”
“Yes.”
“About a year ago he had an injury while skiing, and at first they thought that he would be fine. Then he got an infection, and there was some damage to the nerves in his back, and now my sister is afraid that his legs might be paralyzed for the rest of his life. The doctors have said that they have not been able to find the cause, but so far he is only getting worse. He is okay with his crutches, but when he gets tired, he has to get into the wheelchair. In France there is only so much money available under the national health system, and for special cases, you have to hope that one of the medical companies is working on the treatment that might help. Or you have to consider going to another country and spending all of the money you have. They have an appointment in October with a specialist, but I don’t have much faith. I think they may have waited too long.”
“I just hate to see it,” said Austin. “The problem may not be the technology and from what you tell me, it might be government red tape.”
As the train pulled into Paris, both Austin and Madeline were sleeping. It had been a great weekend, and they were tired. Standing in the station, Madeline put her arms around Austin’s neck and looked into his eyes.
“Austin, I had a very nice time. I hope you did as well. I like being with you, and I hope you like being with me. Perhaps we can go away again in the future, and this time I will make sure that I don’t get too drunk.”
With a kiss in the train station, Austin put Madeline in a taxi and said good-bye, until tomorrow.
Chapter 5
Paris
The morning brought rain and a slow awakening for Austin Clay. At about nine o’clock he ma
de a commitment to get up and start his day. As he rolled out of bed, there was a knock on his door. He grabbed a robe and went to answer it. A messenger was there with a large brown envelope. Austin didn’t know what the envelope could contain. It was unmarked, and the messenger could not provide any additional information. Austin closed the door and headed to the kitchen. Inside the envelope were two additional envelopes, one marked with the name Claude Badeau and the other with the name Madeline Rousseau. Austin had forgotten that he had requested this information, and now he was not sure he wanted to open one of the two envelopes. The bad news was that the envelope with Madeline’s name was thicker. “Shit,” he said to himself. “What am I about to discover?”
He ripped open Madeline’s envelope and poured the contents onto the kitchen table. A cover letter from a French attorney stated:
“We have had reviewed the available public information, including convictions, legal judgments, or published reports, and found no negative information that might exclude Madeline Rousseau from employment.”
There were several references in publications and newspapers, including copies of press releases from the Louvre, and a few articles from art publications that also were benign. He felt a little foolish for requesting the information from Carl Thomson, but now he knew that Madeline was not a jewel thief—or if she was, she was good enough not to get caught.
The envelope for Claude Badeau also had a cover letter inside, but this had a carefully worded appraisal that was more worrisome:
We have enclosed several documents concerning the above-named individual. The majority of this information is concerning his work with the Louvre and does not appear to be an issue. However, this information must be viewed in context with additional information, which may or may not present a problem.
1.Please note the references to the Seine Corporation, which registration documents suggest is largely owned by one Catherine Dumont. This office has determined that Ms. Dumont is the current wife of Claude Badeau, which per se is not cause for alarm. But court records indicate that the Seine Corporation has been involved with suspicious currency transactions and has been sued by investors who purchased shares in the art holding company, the controlling stock of which is held by Dumont and Badeau. Currently there are six lawsuits involving investors who believe that they have been defrauded.
2.A former employee of the Seine Corporation, one A. Dumont, brother of Catherine, was convicted of art theft; however, the court has determined that these actions were independent of his relationship with the Seine Corporation.
3.A search of real estate holdings shows that Catherine Dumont is the owner of an apartment in Nice with an estimated value in US dollars of 2.5 million.
4.A search of Paris records shows that Catherine Dumont has a will, with all proceeds of her estate to be transferable to Claude Badeau upon death. Claude Badeau has a similar will, with the value of his estate to be transferable to Catherine.
5.There does not appear to be a record of convictions or pending criminal court action against either Claude Badeau or Catherine Dumont as individuals.
If it is your intention to employ the above-mentioned individual in a responsible capacity, we recommend an expanded investigation, which can be handled by this office.
Bingo, Austin thought to himself. He had what he wanted. Just a little something to build on if the little shit decides to be a problem.
Austin placed the Badeau documents back into the envelope and carefully sealed it for safekeeping. He took the information on Madeline and read through it again with interest. There was a very complimentary magazine article that included a photo from a charity auction. He studied the picture. Why is this woman still single? he thought to himself. Austin stared out the kitchen window and tried to put their relationship in perspective. He studied the photograph again. Did he love her? Why did he feel so comfortable around her? What was he looking for? A relationship? What about the distance between his home and France? What was keeping him in the United States? How much money was enough? Was it time to retire? Was he old enough to give retirement a try? Was he young enough to give Madeline a try? Had he perceived her feelings correctly? Again he looked at the picture. “Having a relationship is not the same as getting married,” he rationalized. He remembered the picture he had purchased in Saint-Abban and the woman with tears in her eyes. Madeline had revealed much about herself, and it was all good.
Austin looked at his watch. The day was wasting away, and he wanted to finish his preliminary proposal to Vassar by the end of the week, if he could. He headed for the shower. He did some food shopping and picked up his laundry, and then he was out of excuses. That afternoon he began to pull it all together.
It was all about the money: field exploration costs, transportation costs, storage costs, restoration costs, insurance, ownership protection, corporate funding, geographic limitations, rental space, insurance, advertising, exposition costs and proceeds, number of employees, the formation of proper legal entities, maintaining control, a board of directors, building the project social status to attract wealthy Europeans to participate, social gatherings to publicize the program, a program name …. As he began to put it down on paper, the project grew, and the level of responsibility also grew, but he was overlooking the role of the Church. It had to be packaged so that the Church would benefit. He knew that if a firm were hired to take on this project, they would be paid millions, and he was about to take this on for free. He had not started this project to make money, but it would be good if he could break even. It was about six o’clock when his phone rang. It was Madeline.
“So did you get much done today?” she asked.
Austin was happy to hear her voice. “Not half as much as I would have liked to. I could use about five people to help, and once I get more down on paper I will ask you to review it. At times I get very enthusiastic about what I am trying to do, and at other times I think I am crazy.”
“But that is what makes you Americans what you are. You just do things and make them happen. I don’t think what you are trying to do would happen in France. Anyway, I have a deal for you.”
“A deal?”
“I am cooking my favorite chicken dish, and I can make a serving for one or I can make servings for two. Are you hungry?”
“What time?”
“As soon as you can get here.”
Madeline’s apartment was within walking distance from Austin’s, and twenty minutes later he entered the elevator in her building. A minute later he was at Madeline’s door. Austin knocked.
Madeline opened the door, and to Austin she looked like a million. and from the aromas in the air, she could cook. Without reservations Madeline approached Austin and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Austin hugged and kissed back.
“Your timing is perfect,” said Madeline. She turned and led Austin into the apartment, and Austin watched her every move. The apartment was small, but it did have two bedrooms. One bedroom was laid out as a studio, with boxes of paint and canvases everywhere. The other was nicely decorated in a feminine style, with many covered pillows arranged on the top of the bed. The living and dining areas formed one room, and the table was nicely set for dinner. The walls could have used some paint, but Madeline had covered them with a collection of paintings that included some of hers. Apartments in Paris were expensive, and the job at the Louvre did not pay a lot of money. Her apartment was small but comfortable, and Madeline obviously kept it clean. Austin’s apartment was significantly nicer and much bigger, and he wanted to see Madeline in a better location. It was too early to bring up that topic.
“Is there anything I can do?” asked Austin, who knew he was a disaster in the kitchen.
“Go to my closet or the refrigerator, and pick a wine, if you would. Louis keeps me well supplied.”
Austin enjoyed good wine, but he was not an expert. He guessed, and Madeline’s reaction suggested he’d done well.
Dinner was excellent—it was more than ex
cellent. During dinner, Austin and Madeline talked about many things, but they did not talk about them as a couple. Austin was trying to play it cool and not get personal until dinner was behind them. Austin helped Madeline clean up, and when the time was right, he came up behind Madeline, put his arms around her, and thanked her for dinner. To both of them, the hug was more than just a hug. Madeline turned, looked at Austin, and kissed him, and he kissed back. Austin did not want to impose on this woman, whom he knew was fragile. He let her lead, and he spent the night.
The following day Austin called Madeline so he could thank her for dinner and make sure that she was okay with his staying over. Everything was fine. Madeline stated that she had a Louvre function that night and would not be able to see him until Wednesday. She also mentioned that the Gladieux paintings from Saint-Abban were to be delivered on Wednesday and said that she thought it would be fun if Austin were there for the opening of the boxes, and then perhaps they could go to dinner or something. Austin was fine with all of it.
