Secrets

by Nancy Popovich

  Morning dawned gloriously sunny, and the decision was made to go to Montmartre. Brian had the bus schedule, so they set out early and took the bus through a part of Paris that Sonya had not yet seen. Climbing down from the bus, Bryan led her across a busy road and then up a steep little street, lined with small stores.

  They finally reached the top of the street where the hill levelled out somewhat. A big, beautiful church loomed on the top of the hill, but what caught Sonya’s attention was a sort of large gondola, set on tracks but with aerial pulleys. Bryan called it a funicular.

  Paying their fee, they climbed onto the strange little elevator, as Sonya thought of it, and then climbed the hill on an angle, stepping out at the top to a spectacular view of Paris. The church was immense, with stairs its width climbing from their level to its entrance.

  Surrounding the church was a small village, with storefronts lining the narrow streets, and what appeared to be living quarters above the stores. Bryan led her to the left of the funicular landing and into a village square. In the square, artists were everywhere, their art displayed around them, as they showcased their talent by painting while tourists watched.

  “This is one of my favourite café’s,” Bryan announced, leading her into a small restaurant. He ordered without the menu and while they sipped on wine, sat back and took in their unrestricted view of the plaza.

  “Well,” he asked. “What do you think?”

  “I think I could live here!” Sonya smiled. “If I could bring the rest of my life too,” she added. “It’s just wonderful!

  “Even on a rainy day,” Bryan added dreamily, “it is one of my favourite places.”

  Their lunch arrived, and conversation ended for a while. “Oh, look, isn’t that the woman from the other night at Le Cavern? What was her name, Mimi, I think,” Sonya stated as she sipped on her coffee.

  Bryan looked up and waved, beckoning her to join them. “Bonjour, Mimi!” he greeted. “You are a long way from the University.”

  Mimi looked fabulous as far as Sonya was concerned, the epitome of what she would have thought as Paris chic. From the shining cap of dark hair, big sunglasses, leather jacket and skinny jeans down to the frilly blouse, messenger bag slung across her chest and her high heeled boots, she screamed haute couture.

  As she sat, Mimi smiled broadly. “I live here,” she declared. “My apartment is several blocks away. I go to the city now.”

  “We must get back too. May we walk with you to the funicular?” Bryan asked as he took the bill to pay.

  “Certainement,” was the reply. “Allons-y!”

  The trio leisurely walked back through the village towards the funicular, and were shortly afterwards striding down the hill towards the main road. Bryan and Sonya hurried to catch their bus, while Mimi after watching them board the bus, signalled and a car pulled up to the curb. She slid into the front seat and the driver eased into traffic again.

  “Well?” The question came from the back of the sedan.

  “There are two, one is Grégoire’s. The other, I do not know. They are unaware of the shadow. There will be a problem, yes?”

  By now, the car had come to a stop beside the curb, and she was being assisted out by a tall sandy-haired man. “We hope not,” he replied. “I shall see you later,” he murmured quietly into her ear.

  And as Mimi walked away, she flashed a brilliant smile over her shoulder. “Do not be late!” was all she said, as she disappeared into the crowd.

  “It was a stroke of genius to add Mimi to this operation, Steven. She is perfect. Congratulations on a brilliant idea!”

  “Thank you, Sir,” was the reply.

  “And for what I am? Chop liver?” the voice of the driver joined in. “Without my permission you do not have the beautiful Mimi to help! You need the influence of her brother, even with the persuade of her man!”

  “You are absolutely correct, Maurice,” the voice from the back of the sedan stated. “And the Wizard graciously thanks you.”

  CHAPTER 9

  There was much joviality in the Lalonde household that night. Lucien and Sylvain had coerced Bryan to assist them to prepare dinner. Madame Lalonde and Sonya sat at the table sipping their wine, giggling and making suggestions. Dinner was edible, and the ladies left the men to clean up the mess that they had made, including warnings to wash the floor.

  “That was kind of fun, wasn’t it?” Sonya asked that night as they prepared for bed. “I don’t think that any of you will make blue ribbon chef status,” she teased.

  “Nor do I want to,” was Bryan’s retort. “It’s harder than it looks, especially when Madame Lalonde does it. Will you cook like her, oh wife?”

  “Not bloody likely,” she replied with a toothy grin. “You’ve heard the stories about how my mom didn’t cook at all. And, I work full-time, remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” he grinned back. “This trip is turning out pretty good, isn’t it?” he yawned, turning off the bedside lamp and reaching for his wife.

  “It sure is,” she agreed snuggling in. “I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.”

  There was no school the next morning, and Sylvain took advantage of sleeping in, something his grandmother never allowed on school days. After coffee, Sonya went upstairs to check her email, just as Sylvain arrived for breakfast. Shortly afterwards, she came back into the kitchen.

  “Where are the men?” she asked. “I wanted to show Bryan a really funny slideshow my cousin sent.”

  “They went for walk,” Madame Lalonde replied with a smile. You know men like to talk. They think that what they say is most important!” she smirked, some private thought obviously entering into her mind.

  “I can see this email?” Sylvain begged, “Please?”

  “Sure,” Sonya responded, “Come upstairs to our room, the computer’s still on.” Sylvan quickly followed Sonya to their room to view the email. After it was viewed, Sonya shared a funny picture joke, which sent Sylvain into gales of giggles.

  They were still chuckling, when voices were heard on the road below. Sylvain recognized his father’s laugh and ran to the open window to wave. Sonya stood beside him, appreciating the youngster’s desire to spend as much time as he could with his father.

  Lucien and Bryan looked up at the window and with a smile and a wave, began to walk into the house. It was then that a car drove down the street, screeched to a halt, and two really big men forced both Lucien and Bryan into the car. It sped away, leaving Sonya and Sylvain looking down at an empty street.

  Both rushed down to the front door and threw it open, frantically looking for any trace of the car that they both had seen.

  “What is the trouble?” Madame Lalonde inquired from the doorway. “Why are you on the street?”

  “Granmama, men take Papa and Bryan! Ils ne sont pas ici! (They are not here!)” The youngster was almost hysterical.

  “What has happen?” she demanded of Sonya, who was standing beside Sylvain, on the verge of tears herself.

  “We were looking out of the window, because we heard Lucien and Bryan talking. They waved and were coming into the house, when a car came screeching to a stop, two really big men forced both Lucien and Bryan into the car and then it left! I couldn’t see the license number because we were above them. The car was black, wasn’t it Sylvain?”

  The youngster nodded his head in agreement. “Why men take my Papa away?” he asked in barely a whisper, his eyes brimming with tears and his face glazed in shock.

  “We must call the police!” Sonya exclaimed. “They have to look for Bryan and Lucien!”

  Madame Lalonde glanced at her sceptically. “You are not a French citizen,” she began. “You cannot just call the police and expect them to accommodate you.”

  Sonya was stunned. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Your son was just kidnapped! What else would you choose to do?”

  Madame Lalonde studied Sonya for what seemed to be hours, which in probability would have been a few seconds, and then t
ook a deep breath. “There are many things to explain – perhaps it was his company require him to return.”

  “So, Bryan would be included in this? What kind of company would kidnap him?” Sonya countered with vengeance, her eyes beginning to glow with anger, her body stiffening with antagonism.

  “You do have point,” Madame Lalonde replied after what appeared to be careful consideration. “My thought, to wait until tomorrow, to see if we hear from them.”

  “They were taken against their will and forced into a car! What makes you think that they will contact us, when they were taken away against their will?” Sonya replied, trying hard not to snap at Madame Lalonde, not understanding why she wasn’t as upset as she and Sylvain.

  “Paris is very different from your Calgary,” Madame Lalonde replied. “Things happen different here.”

  “Does that mean that kidnapping is allowed?” Sonya retorted, becoming more and more visibly upset.

  “Non, non, Chérie, it is just that you may not have all of the facts, and sometime, things are not as they appear. Of course, we call the police if you wish.”

  “I wish!” declared Sonya, with a defiant glint in her eye, her back ramrod straight with irritation.

  “Then, Chérie, that is what we do!” Madame Lalonde declared, leading them into the house to collect her purse. Once the house was locked, she led the way to the arrondissement of the Police Department, where she calmly explained her situation to the young gendarme at the desk.

  CHAPTER 10

  They waited in some chairs until summoned. Sonya’s French was not up to the rapid fire discussion between Madame Lalonde, the policeman and young Sylvain.

  When it appeared that it was her turn to speak, the policeman asked questions which Sylvain translated and then translated her answers back to the policeman in turn.

  Immediately, Sonya realized that she was being viewed as a Barbie doll. Her looks had never ever, as far as she knew, been interpreted that she lacked intelligence. But today, her radar reasoned that it appeared as though this was the case. And it pissed her off.

  She recalled everything that she had seen from the window, but Sonya felt that the police had dismissed Sylvain as a young kid with an overactive imagination, reading their body language as they listened to him. It appeared that by the time that the interview was over, they believed that both Sonya and Sylvain had exaggerated what they had seen. Sonya’s gut feeling was that they saw two young people with an unlikely story and didn’t give them any credence. Promising to look into their story, their little group was dismissed and left the arrondissement. Sonya very much doubted that anything would come of this report.

  “Why won’t they believe us?” Sonya demanded of Madame Lalonde. “I am not imagining this, and Sylvain and I both saw what happened. It’s the truth, not some made up story. Why on earth would we make up something like this?” she demanded, beginning to show the panic that had escalated ever since Bryan had been shoved forcefully into the black sedan.

  “Chérie,” Madame Lalonde soothed as she placed her arm over both Sonya’s and Sylvain’s shoulder. “It is a most unusual story,” she began. “The police have your report, but they have nothing to, how can I say, do. There is no license number, the only description is black sedan. Paris is filled of black sedans. You cannot identify the men except really big.”

  Sonya’s eyes began to tear. “So what do we do now?” she demanded.

  “We wait,” was Madame Lalonde’s reply. “Because there is not much information, does not mean that the police do nothing. Allons!” she demanded and keeping her hold securely on both of them, quickly walked home and locked the door securely upon entering.

  “Va etudier, tout de suite! (Go study, now!)” she ordered Sylvain and then disappeared. He obeyed immediately.

  Wondering where she went, Sonya discretely followed Madame Lalonde, to find her checking the house thoroughly, efficiently and systematically locking unlocked windows and checking each room completely, even the closets.

  Aha! Sonya thought. So, Madame Lalonde wasn’t as calm as she pretended to be. Madame Lalonde then sat into a small chair in the corner of an upstairs hallway, looked around, pulled out a cell phone and pushed a button. She spoke for perhaps forty-five seconds, terminated the call and returned the cell into her pocket. The only word that Sonya thought that she recognized was the word, “wizard”. Wizard? in the middle of a French conversation? What was with the name wizard. Was this the new buzzword?

  Sonya quietly slipped into her bedroom where she found the formerly open window not only closed, but locked from the inside. This was getting scarier and scarier. Where was Bryan and why hadn’t he called? Instead of enjoying her honeymoon, she was all alone in a stranger’s house, and in a foreign country with no one to rely upon but herself.

  Tears began to stream, tears of frustration, of self pity and of fear. Once her tirade was over, Sonya washed her face and engaged her rather prodigious brain.

  Taking out a writing tablet from her computer case, she began to write down all the facts that she knew, starting a separate list of the people that they had met since coming to Paris. Two, Grégoire and especially Lucien, were those that would require further investigation. What were Bryan and Lucien discussing in their little tête-à-tête’s since he had returned to Paris? And what about Grégoire? Bryan had said he was someone to watch his back? Why would he need someone to watch his back?

  It was impossible to stop thinking about the details surrounding the kidnapping. Sonya’s mind would not stop whirling. However, it was then that she was able to sort things out, cutting out the extraneous and concentrating on the solid facts.

  She would be slipping out of Madame Lalonde’s house. Madame Lalonde had not been much help. If the French police wouldn’t help her, she knew someone with pull that maybe could. Some forethought was needed, just in case. She dressed in casual, fashionable clothes that would allow her to blend easily into a Paris crowd.

  Sonya packed her purse with both of their passports, their airline tickets and itinerary, all of the extra money, the documents envelope that was packed into Bryan’s backpack, his camera and her computer. An extra shirt, jeans, underwear, cosmetics and overnight grooming essentials were next. It all fit very easily into a fashionable leather tote-bag, which had been a graduation gift from her sister, Susan.

  Carefully hiding it in a corner of the closet and covering it with the navy blazer that she planned to wear, Sonya took a deep breath and stepped outside her room, quietly taking the stairs down to the kitchen.

  Madame Lalonde was already there, sipping a coffee. Without a word, she poured a cup for Sonya, handing it to her before she even sat at the table. She looked very little like the chic woman that Sonya had met on her first night in Paris. Dark circles smudged her eyes, which were somewhat bleary.

  “Worried?” Sonya asked.

  Slowly sitting at the table, Madame Lalonde took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Oui,” she replied. “Still, there is no telephone call.”

  “I was listening for the telephone too. What can we do other than wait?” Sonya replied.

  All Madame Lalonde could do was shake her head. “Rien, nothing,” was all she said.

  At that moment, Sonya knew that her plan was the only option that she had. They partook in a solemn, quiet coffee, with even the usually cheery Sylvain subdued. Madame Lalonde left the room, returning in about twenty minutes, fully made up and elegantly dressed, seemingly to have shed her weariness.

  “I have several appointments that I can not cancel ce matin, (this morning),” she explained. “Sylvain, I wish for you to remain home with Sonya this morning. You must promise that you will not open door to anyone. Tu comprend? (Do you understand?)” Sylvain nodded, somewhat shocked at his grandmother’s warning.

  With that, Madame Lalonde left the house, carefully locking up when she left. Immediately she did, Sonya rushed upstairs, put on her blazer and picked up her tote. She was almost to the door when she
was intercepted by Sylvain.

  “Where do you go?” he demanded. “We must remain until Granmama return.”

  Unable to withhold her smile, Sonya looked into the earnest young eyes of her housemate. “I have some business to attend to,” she explained, hoping to bounce him off.

  “You leave,” he replied, his astute eyes having taken in her tote bag. Sonya did mentally note that he had seen her purse, and the tote bag was considerably larger.

  “I have to spend some time in town,” she replied vaguely.

  “Granmama tell me I must be with you ce matin,” he countered. Opening a closet, he removed a light jacket, put it on and reaching for his book bag, he dumped its contents on the floor of the closet, tossed a few articles into the bag, closed it and turned. “I am ready.”

  Astonished, Sonya protested, “I can’t take you with me Sylvain! Your grandmother would be very angry with both of us.”

  “I will follow,” he replied stubbornly. “I call Granmama to tell where we are.”

  This was a dilemma. She couldn’t allow Sylvain to follow her, not after the kidnapping. He could be the next victim. And she couldn’t trust him to stay and wait for his grandmother. Against her better judgement, she nodded, “Okay. But you must call your grandmother.”

  Sylvain nodded. “Yes. Where we will go?” he asked.

  Sonya told him the name of the hotel to which she was going, and he seemed to understand. “Where can we catch a taxi?” she asked.

  “You follow,” he replied seriously and they left the house, locking it securely as they did.

  Carefully looking around, Sylvain possessively took Sonya’s arm and led her down the road a few houses, suddenly ducking into a lane and hurrying along a few hundred feet, where he turned right. Within minutes, they were on a busy roadway, with lots of traffic and pedestrians milling about. He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.