by Lee Lamond
“Well, you did fine today. I am proud of you.”
With lunch over, Madeline led Austin from shop to shop along the edge of the harbor. It was a relaxed afternoon, and then it happened.
It was a subtle feeling but one that Austin reacted to quickly. There was a hand in his pocket, and it was not his. He quickly reached into his front pocket and wrapped his hand around two fingers that were trying to lift his wallet. When traveling, Austin always kept his wallet in his front pocket. It was an old navy trick his father had taught him, but it did not seem to stop every pickpocket. Austin tried to break the fingers and do severe damage to the owner. When he turned around, he found that the fingers belonged to a small gypsy man who screamed out in pain. Austin was not concerned about his adversary’s pain and tightened his viselike grip, easily breaking both fingers.
Suddenly an old woman shoved her knitting needles up toward Austin’s face, trying to protect her husband while shouting, “We are not thieves!”
Austin was not one to beat up women, but he quickly released the old man’s broken fingers and punched the old woman in the face. Both of the pickpockets lay on the sidewalk. Madeline screamed, “Austin, stop!”
A third pickpocket avoided Austin and came to the aid of the other two. Madeline grabbed Austin’s arm in an effort to stop him from hitting his victims again. Austin turned to address Madeline and then turned back to the people who had tried to steal from him. They were gone. Gone!
Madeline held tightly to Austin’s arm. “Did they get your wallet?”
“No. I still have it, but I am pissed, and I wanted to beat the crap out of those two.”
“Austin, I think you did a good job already, so just let it go.”
Madeline and Austin stood on the sidewalk with several people around them. The show was over, but emotions were still high.
“Austin, I hate to tell you,” said Madeline, “but you set yourself up for the pickpockets.”
“I did?” said Austin in disbelief.
“It was not your fault, but they must have spotted you from the other side of town. You are wearing a NC State baseball cap, a green golf shirt with some name on it, white shorts, and white sneakers. You just do not look like a Frenchman. You look like a tourist—the gypsies’ favorite target, because tourists don’t prosecute. Pickpockets usually go after smaller, older people, and they can be a problem, but you cannot apply cowboy justice. You cannot just find a tree and hang those people.”
“Madeline, if thieves got the crap beat out of them every time they tried to steal from somebody, they would go out and find real jobs. And a few hangings wouldn’t hurt.”
“It must be an American thing, Austin, but it is not the way we think over here.”
Austin didn’t want to argue, but somehow he didn’t think that Madeline understood. “Madeline, my sister was in Lisbon two years ago, and she watched three girls try to pickpocket some tourists. She went up to the tourists and warned them, and then she went to the cops on the corner. The cops did not want to get involved. Everybody knew it was going on, but no one wanted to stop it. I do not know how Europeans put up with it.”
The exchange put a damper on the rest of the day. Austin was disappointed that he had not done more damage, and he was also disappointed that Madeline had put him on trial. Madeline had never seen Austin being physical and willing to hurt another person. For the first time in their relationship, things did not go well.
On Friday evening things began to get back to normal. Each had learned a little more about the other, and although there were still some uncomfortable feelings, there was so much more between them. Austin was beginning to worry that the four weeks they had planned might not be enough.
On Friday night, Madeline’s cell phone rang. She looked at the phone and did not recognize the number. She answered and immediately regretted doing so.
“Madeline, this is Claude Badeau. How is your vacation going?”
Madeline’s mind raced. What did Badeau want? “It has been wonderful,” she said, hoping that would cover his needs.
“I learned that you were the one that found Henri, and I hope you have recovered. It must have been a horrible experience.”
“It was not good, Claude. It was horrible, but I am okay now.”
“Madeline, I have some news that you might want to know. I am in Nice, and I will be having a dinner with two art investors tomorrow night and we would love to have you join us. This meeting may have some real benefits to you, and we hope you are available. I am guessing you are in the area, and it would be great if you could join us.”
“Claude, I am confused. How might this help me, and couldn’t it wait until we return to Paris?”
“This opportunity just popped up, and the schedule is very short. Can we expect you?”
“How did you know that I was on the coast?” asked Madeline, who was now concerned about what else Badeau might know.
“I saw a note on Sabine’s desk, and I assumed that you were at that place you told me you loved so much to visit with your sister.”
“Claude, I will have to get back to you. Why don’t you send me an e-mail with a little more information, and I will check my schedule.”
“Fine. I think that since you are only minutes away, this will be a great way to meet these people and have a great dinner.”
Madeline hung up the phone, angry for having answered the call.
“Who was that?” asked Austin.
“That was Badeau. He wants to drag me into a meeting with some art people in Nice tomorrow night.”
“Does he know that I am here with you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you going?”
“I hate him so much. I will make up some excuse and get out of it.”
Austin sat back for a few seconds before saying, “I think we should go. We know that Badeau has been sniffing around our activities with Feret, and we know that he is not our friend. The worst case is that we get a free dinner. If he is just expecting you and I show up, it will throw him off his game. It could be fun.”
“You find fun in some odd places. I came here to relax and have fun with you, not to deal with him.”
“Hey, it is only one night.”
The next night came quickly. Austin and Madeline drove up to Nice early, so that Madeline could do some shopping and show Austin around. With the sun still high in the sky, they walked along the pebble beach that Nice is famous for and took in the sights of the modern city. At eight o’clock Austin parked the car, and they walked to the restaurant. The Maitre d’ lead the couple to a private room that Badeau had reserved. Madeline entered the room first, which was occupied by Badeau and two other men. Although Badeau was gracious to Madeline, it was clear that he had not expected Austin. He greeted Austin, who explained that Madeline had offered to give him a tour of the French coast, but he did not elaborate. Badeau introduced Austin and Madeline to a fat man with rings on all of his fingers; his name was Andre Bertrand, and his associate was known as Simon, but Austin did not catch his last name.
“Is Simon your first name or your last name?” asked Austin, trying to be polite.
“I am just known as Simon.”
Austin was surprised by the answer. Here was an individual that wanted to talk about some business deal, and the man played games with his own name. Simon was very tan with thick black hair, a scar on the left side of his face, and a misshapen ear. On first inspection. Austin’s new acquaintance seemed a little distant and perhaps a little uncultured. Austin found the scar and the ear fitting for one so crude.
“Please sit, sit,” said Badeau, who was trying a little too hard to be gracious. It was clear that since Austin had seen Badeau last, he had lost a lot of weight and perhaps had not slept much. There were several bottles of wine on the table, and Badeau asked everyone what they might like. The more he tried to act as host, the more awkward he appeared.
“So, Monsieur Austin, how do you like Nice and the sun
of the Riviera?” asked Badeau, apparently fishing for the real reason Austin was with Madeline.
“I love this part of the world, but I have been spending too much time on the beach. I love the sun, but the sun does not like me,” Austin said with a laugh. The others joined in a phony laugh.
There was a general discussion about art, and Bertrand appeared to be very aware of the French market. Simon said nothing, but it was clear that he was listening carefully. On the surface, the dinner was pleasant, although Austin could sense some tension in the air. While eating dinner they exchanged pleasantries, and over dessert Badeau nervously began to get to the real reason for the meeting.
“Madeline, we wanted to talk with you so that you could communicate to Monsieur Clay an opportunity that has arisen. The fact that Monsieur Clay is here is good news and should be a big help. Monsieur Bertrand is an art dealer with many contacts and resources. He has mentioned over the years that he has an interest in the story of the missing ransom that some believe might be associated with the artist Maetan. I mentioned to Monsieur Bertrand that you also had an interest, and he thought that if resources were combined, perhaps progress could be made in finding the gold—which I am sure everyone would like to see.”
Austin listened very carefully and studied Bertrand’s face and appearance, including the rings on his hands. He remembered what Madeline had said about Sabine’s comments and the prior meeting of Badeau, Simon and Bertrand.
Bertrand leaned forward to speak but waited for Badeau to finish.
Finally Bertrand spoke. “Monsieur Austin, as Claude Badeau has stated, we do have some connections that can streamline the process of dealing with items such as gold. Sometimes there are tax issues, or there might be problems with converting large amounts of antiquities, such as coins. Some of my associates can resolve these issues quickly, with little red tape. At present, Monsieur Badeau and I have a strong interest in assisting your efforts, if we might be of help.”
Austin did not like anything he was hearing, and he disliked the people that were talking. They knew too much, and perhaps they knew people that could be even more trouble. Austin reached over with his foot and tapped Madeline on the leg to prepare her for what was going to happen.
“Monsieur Bertrand, I came to France to further a dream of my dead wife, whom I loved and respected. I do not know if Monsieur Badeau has explained my primary objective, but finding gold was not on the list. I must admit that I am confused why you are talking to me.”
Badeau was quick to say, “Monsieur Clay, I had several discussions with Monsieur Feret, and it was his opinion that you were gathering valuable information. He believed that with enough time, you might actually find the treasure. He actually hoped that you would.”
“Gentlemen,” said Austin, “the story I learned from the recently departed Professor Feret was fascinating, and I will admit that I did a little research. I have resources in the United States, which I have called upon to help me in this effort—people ranging from my secretary, to friends at Columbia University, and others at the Holocaust museum in Washington DC. At this time, I have no interest in looking for any treasure, and I am afraid what I can tell you at this time is not good news.”
Badeau looked worried, while the man named Simon had no reaction.
“There is strong evidence,” continued Austin, “that the gold in question was found and that it wound up in the hands of one Klaus Barbie and the Third Reich. I do not know what you know of Jacob Frankel, but according to reports that I have, Monsieur Frankel found the gold after his own research back in the late 1930s, and the Nazis were nice enough to declare it abandoned property after he died during the war.”
Madeline had enough presence of mind to act as if everything that Austin was saying was true, but she had no idea where this was going.
“Let me expand a little,” said Austin. “In about 1938, Jacob Frankel, who was a Jewish banker in Nantes and an art collector, acquired the painting that Madeline acquired for the Louvre. It is well documented that he was in possession of this painting and had done significant research on the subject. In 1940 an article written about Monsieur Frankel gave the impression that he was still looking for the gold, but there is now evidence that it was a cover story to confuse everyone and give the impression that he had not found the gold. Shortly after the article was written, the Germans swept through France and set about gathering up the Jewish population. This resulted in Monsieur Frankel being shot by the Gestapo and his family being sent to the death camps. That might be the end of the story, but my contacts at Columbia and in Washington DC added much more. The Nazis grabbed all of Monsieur Frankel’s resources, including his art collection, his home, and the resources of his financial institution. I have seen documents, provided by my friend in Washington DC, that show without question that the Germans sent about six hundred pounds of gold coins to Germany, and that Klaus Barbie and another German officer fought for the credit. I believe that someone skimmed off a good percentage of the gold for their personal use. Whatever the final disposition, I have no idea where the gold is now, and I actually don’t care. Some of it may be in your watch, but your watch might also contain remnants of gold teeth that the Nazis acquired. So if you are looking for gold, I am afraid that I am not your guy.”
Bertrand looked down at the floor and was quiet. His associate Simon, who had said nothing all night, continued to be silent.
Sensing the right moment, Madeline said, “Gentlemen, if you do not mind, I have to go to the ladies’ room. Does anyone know where it is?”
Badeau rose and offered to show Madeline where it was. He escorted her from the table.
With a very serious look on his face, Bertrand said, “Monsieur Austin, I must say that we were hoping we might do business. My friend Monsieur Badeau and his wife have been active in the art world, and mistakes have been made. A few months ago he was involved in the sale of an item to the wife of a gentlemen from Marseille, who was not very happy when it was discovered that the painting might be a forgery. I interceded and arranged for the return of the money, but we now understand that our friend in Marseille believes that we owe him something more. Monsieur Badeau mentioned the possibility that he might participate in the search for the fabled gold. I must admit that I was horrified that it was even suggested. I am very sorry to hear of your discoveries, and now we are faced with the predicament of finding another way to pay the debt that we owe.”
“Monsieur Bertrand, there are two things I must say,” said Austin. “First, if I knew where the gold was, I would not be working on my tan. And second, I am not sure I am the kind of guy that needs partners. A part of my brain wants to be angry, and other part says that there is no point. When my vacation is over, I will be going back to Paris, and after some meetings at the Louvre, I will be returning to the United States. The gold is gone, Monsieur Bertrand. As far as Badeau’s debt, I just cannot help, but I am sure you can work out something.” Turning to Simon, he asked, “Simon, what is your role in this venture?”
“I represent the interests of the gentleman in Marseille.”
“And what is his name?”
“His name is not important. Let’s just say he is a very good businessman with an interest in a variety of opportunities.”
“Can either of you gentlemen tell me why Feret was murdered?” asked Austin.
Bertrand looked at Simon, who looked disinterested and said, “I guess somebody didn’t like him.”
Madeline returned with Badeau in tow.
“Madeline, I think it is time to say good night to our host. Thank you, gentlemen,” said Austin and extended his hand to the two men.
The meeting had not gone as Badeau had hoped, and it was clear that he was more nervous now than when Austin had arrived in the restaurant. Austin had never liked Badeau, but the two men he’d been introduced to were scum, and Austin knew it. When the time was right and he had returned to Paris, Austin was going to have a little discussion with Vassar regarding Mon
sieur Badeau.
Austin and Madeline returned to the car and headed out of Nice.
“Austin, I do not know what you were doing, but you are such a beautiful liar.”
“That meeting was an ambush and an effort to crash our party. I am beyond mad. Bertrand told me that your boss may be in trouble with people that can hurt him. But what I don’t understand is that the Louvre lets him get away with something that cannot be a secret. And that little creep Simon is scary.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t know more. Perhaps I was not paying attention, but I agree. I think his career at the Louvre is over,” said Madeline.
“It is amazing that they thought they had any chance at getting a piece of the project. It was a good lie, wasn’t it?”
Madeline looked at Austin, who was driving back to Antibes. She said, “Austin, I am telling you that I’m getting very tired of this topic.”
“Hey, I dropped it because you got mad. It was your boss who brought the whole thing up. What makes me mad is that I didn’t punch each of those clowns in the mouth. The guy with the rings is a queer, and the guy known as Simon-with-no-last-name needs two punches. Who the hell tells someone that he only has one name? Is he some kind of rock star or something? You know, I have learned over the years that there are a lot of strange people in the art world, and I can accept that, but these guys are insulting. If I heard correctly from Bertrand, your boss sold some crap to the wrong people, and they are upset. He gave the money back, or they would have killed him. But now they are looking for a favor to make up for what Badeau did. Nothing in the Louvre is safe. Badeau has to go, and he knows it. I think he made a big mistake giving Bertrand access to us, because Bertrand has a big mouth, and now we know of Badeau’s crap.”
