The Napoleon Affair

by Ernest Dempsey

  He pulled himself onto the third roof and copied the technique Adriana used to get to the wall's upper lip.

  Wagner was right behind him now and waiting patiently as Tommy navigated the tenuous climb. A fall wouldn't kill him, not unless he landed on his head, but it would certainly hurt. A broken limb wasn't out of the realm of possibility, though the bigger issue was time. Falling now would slow them down, perhaps enough for the cops to catch up.

  He was nearly to the top and had reached up to grab the ledge when one of the tiles under his right foot broke free. His shoe slipped. Gravity pulled him into the roof with a smack, and he felt himself sliding slowly down the side of the slate tiles.

  His fingers dragged on the smooth surface, nails digging in as hard as they could. He kicked his toes into the roof and found purchase, stopping his descent. Tommy scrambled back to his feet and managed a couple of quick steps before he leaped toward the edge of the wall, even more eager now to get off the roof and over the wall.

  He gripped the edge and used his feet to walk up the rest of the way until he swung one leg over the wall and found himself straddling the top.

  Adriana was already on the sidewalk below and watching for trouble. Her head turned left and right, and then she looked up at Tommy.

  The drop was around twelve feet, but for some reason it felt higher than that.

  "Did you jump?" He hissed over the sounds of cars passing and distant sirens.

  "Use your hands. Lower yourself down. Hang. Then drop." Her answer was curt out of necessity. She kept twisting her head back and forth to make sure no one was paying any attention to them, especially people wearing uniforms and badges.

  Tommy hesitated. That hesitation was interrupted by Wagner as the man dragged himself over the edge, gripped the exterior side with his hands, and lowered himself down. In half the time it had taken Tommy to get up to that position on the wall, the older man was already dropping himself down to the ground.

  Wagner hit the concrete below with a thud and then looked up expectantly. "Come on, son. This is no time to dilly about."

  Tommy shook his head in disbelief, then spun himself around so his back was facing the street. He moved a little too quickly as he tried to position his hands and fingers on the edge, and when he lowered his weight, his fingers slipped, scraping against the hard surface of the stone wall.

  He dropped awkwardly to the ground, but instead of hitting the solid pavement in what he was certain would be a painful landing, he felt a pair of strong hands cushion the fall and guide him down onto his feet. When Tommy gathered his senses enough to look around, he realized it was Wagner who'd steadied his fall. He peered into the man's eyes with questions that couldn't be answered at that moment.

  Whoever this man was, he was far more than he let on. Or maybe the training he received as a knight of a secret order kept him young and vigorous. Tommy wondered how old the man really was.

  He'd read an article once in a men's health magazine about a tribe of Mexican natives who lived in Copper Canyon, Mexico. The people had unnaturally long life spans, averaging around one hundred years per person. Researchers also learned that there were zero instances of cancer, heart disease, or Alzheimer’s. Apparently, the Tarahumara, as they were called, had figured out the secret to longevity and extraordinary health.

  It had fascinated Tommy to read about a chief, who was one hundred years old, outrunning the thirty-something journalist covering the tribe.

  Tommy wondered if Wagner was trained in such a way, in such a lifestyle.

  He shrugged off the thoughts. Maybe Wagner simply wasn't that old and just had a few gray hairs. The man's eyes, though, spoke of years, more years than Tommy for certain. He'd get his answers soon enough, though he wasn't sure how forthcoming the man would be with that information.

  "You okay?" Wagner asked in a gruff tone.

  "Yeah, I'm good. Come on. This way." Tommy motioned across the street toward the metro station. It was still a few blocks away, and by going in that direction now they would be running straight into the police. They could stay on the streets, taking sidewalks and alleys to get away from the cemetery. Had they been spotted? Was there any way to identify them?

  All of those questions brought him back to one big question: Should they get on the train?

  The three crossed the street at the next crosswalk and then proceeded toward the entrance to the metro. People were streaming out of the exit to Père Lachaise, though not at the level of the other entrance. Hundreds of people stood behind the police barricade that surrounded the entrance to the cemetery in a semicircle, effectively cutting off an exit for anyone the cops deemed a threat.

  Gaps between the patrol cars allowed people through and into the plaza beyond. Tommy thought that strategy strange. The police weren't even checking to see if any of the people they were letting through were the gunman.

  The dark green entryway descended into the bowels of the city. The railing, the façade, even the font of the lettering declaring the purpose of the entrance, harkened to a time many decades ago. They were all designed to affect an air of nostalgia and a smattering of history from Industrial Era France.

  Tommy's eyes wandered to a surveillance camera perched atop a nearby light post. A terrible realization hit him: They were operating under the assumption that the cops didn't know what the mad gunman looked like. He knew from his time with Sean that making such assumptions could come back to bite him. It wouldn't take much for Bodmer to make a call to the Paris police and give them Tommy's description.

  He fought to suppress the panic as they moved closer to the train. Getting on the metro would get them away faster, but it would also corner them. One thing he didn't want to be was stuck on a subway with no possible escape.

  Adriana was about to descend the steps to the metro when Tommy halted her.

  "Wait," Tommy said. "I have another idea."

  "I thought we were taking the metro," she protested. "We need to get as far away from here as possible for the next few hours."

  "Yeah, I know." Tommy looked back over his shoulder at the cops beginning to funnel into the cemetery. "But if we get on the train, we'll be stuck in there like sardines."

  Wagner jumped in. "Agreed. If someone fingers one of us as the gunman, we'll be trapped. Best to stick to the streets and lie low for a bit until we can find a place to hide out until this boils over."

  Adriana looked at Tommy, then at Wagner. "Okay. Let's move. Stay calm, but not too calm. Everyone else is freaking out. So, do your best to blend in."

  Tommy nodded and started trotting away from the cemetery, keeping the pace of everyone around him. He glanced back now and then since that seemed to be what the rest of the population was doing. Adriana and Wagner were on either side of him. Adriana could have won an Academy Award with her portrayal of the terrified woman. Only he knew that she was anything but. The agonized worry on her face, though, would have fooled almost anyone.

  The three moved quickly, though not too quickly, through the chaotic plaza until they reached the street on the other side where a strange convergence of curious onlookers and frightened escapees collided. Tommy considered the irony as they trotted over a crosswalk, watching more and more people hurrying in the other direction to see what was going on. He likened it to the way people would slow down to see horrific accidents on the highway. Humans were—apparently—fascinated with tragedy.

  They slowed down once they were through most of the foot traffic. Adriana suggested they stop in a café or a bar to come up with a plan. The two men agreed, and when they were another block down, the three stepped into a darkly lit wine bar.

  The hostess showed them to a small table in the back and handed them menus. No one had any intention of drinking or eating anything, but they couldn't just sit there. When the server appeared, Adriana ordered a few appetizers and three glasses of red wine. The young woman appeared to be less than thrilled to be working. Her brown ponytail sagged behind her as she tromped back
to her station, where she began putting in the order.

  The second the girl was out of sight, Adriana turned to Wagner. "Where did they take him?"

  Wagner's head tossed from side to side. "I swear. I don't know. They could be anywhere in the city now." There was despondence in his voice, as if he'd given up hope. "With the resources the Teutonic Order possesses, they surely have dozens of safe houses here in Paris."

  The girl returned with three glasses of wine and set them down in front of the guests. She spun and immediately disappeared again without so much as a smile.

  Wagner reached forward and grabbed his glass. He took a long, slow sip and then let out a relieved "ah."

  Adriana took a glance at the wine, then decided it was best to keep her wits about her.

  Wagner clearly didn't have that concern.

  "You don't know where any of those safe houses are located, do you?" Adriana's gaze met his.

  "No," he said, setting the half-empty glass down and sliding it forward. Apparently, he wanted to keep most of his wits as well. "But I can see where you're going with that idea. If we could find one, we could draw out Bodmer and his puppet master."

  "The grand master?"

  "Yes. But we don't know where any of their holdings are." Wagner slumped back into the chair.

  Tommy had been listening silently, but his mind was a raging torrent of thoughts. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Sean could handle himself. He kept telling himself that. In the past, Tommy had wasted time and energy worrying about his friend. Worry, he had learned, was counterproductive.

  "They'll have his phone," Tommy realized out loud.

  The other two looked up at him.

  "We can call his phone," he continued. "One of the men who took Sean will answer it."

  "Then they can track us down. That's if they answer," Wagner countered.

  "They'll answer."

  "And why do you think that?"

  "Because," Tommy said with a distant hope in his voice, "we'll have something they want."

  36

  PARIS

  The late afternoon sun shone brightly through the open windows of the café. It was hour number two of the group's search for answers, and each one of them was beginning to grow impatient.

  They'd scoured the internet for answers, trying to figure out the solution to the mystery of the missing name.

  There was plenty of information to go around regarding the three men's names that were on the list, but that wasn't what they needed. Another phone call to the kids had resulted in nothing new, but they were doing the best they could with the resources available.

  Adriana stared at her phone's screen, reading through more information about the three officers whose graves they'd already visited. She felt like she was reading the same text she'd read five or six times already.

  Tommy was faring no better. He gazed at the laptop screen on the table in front of him with wide eyes, scanning through the text of site after site. He'd found a tech store close by and purchased the small computer, as well as a tablet for Wagner to use. Adriana insisted she was fine with the phone.

  They could have all used phones, but Tommy was more than just a tad insistent about getting some larger screens to work with. He claimed he could go much faster on a computer or tablet. She understood his reasoning. Adriana also preferred to use a bigger screen. More information being displayed at one time made getting through it faster, plus it just felt better to be able to jump from tab to tab, window to window, to compare notes or examine one bit of information in conjunction with another.

  Still, she insisted on using her phone, thinking it wasteful to buy expensive tools when the one she had on hand would work well enough.

  Wagner flipped through more pages on the tablet, but his efforts produced the same results as the other two: nothing.

  Tommy stood up abruptly and ran his fingers through his hair. He combed through the thick locks three times before he stopped, lacing his fingers behind his head and, keeping his arms up, stretched from side to side.

  "What are we missing?" he said out loud.

  "A name," Adriana answered dryly.

  He snorted and cracked a smile. "Fair enough. We should have discovered something by now, though. Maybe Sean was wrong about there being a gap in the list of names. It was probably just a screwup on Napoléon's part when he created the list."

  Adriana knew he was probably right, but she didn't want to consider that. Sean had been confident about his conclusion. There was simply a piece of the puzzle they were missing. Her head spun. The names of the three officers danced around in her brain like pieces of a baby's mobile dangling over a crib. Masséna. Dumas. Augereau. What did they have in common? Other than the fact they were all long dead and served in Napoléon's army?

  Adriana entered a new search in her web browser, and a collection of blue links appeared on the screen. She tapped the first one, read through the information, and then tapped the back button to examine the next link, though she figured it would be like all the others.

  Her finger hovered over the phone screen as she debated tapping on the next link in line. She peered at the options at the top of the search window. She hadn't considered looking at images or video. It was doubtful anything helpful would be posted under the news tab, though she could be wrong. Still, her focus remained on the word images in the row of tabs. She extended her finger and tapped the screen. Her fingernail made a clicking sound on the tempered glass, and a moment later several rows of images appeared on the display.

  There were several pictures of the men she'd included in the search query. Most of the images were portraits the famous military leaders had commissioned when they were still alive and in their prime. There were a few monuments, as well, including some from the more prominent of the men's military victories, accomplishments, and achievements.

  Adriana scrolled down the page until she found something interesting. It stood out from all the other images—probably because it was one she easily recognized. The Arc de Triomphe appeared in several places on the page, and she couldn't help but wonder why.

  One row displayed several pictures of the famous monument's pillars and walls where names had been engraved upon its completion. She narrowed her eyes and tapped on one of the images.

  Tommy eased back into his seat and resumed his searching, while Wagner continued to stare at his tablet screen with rapt attention. The man hadn't said much in the last hour, and barely anything before that. Clearly, he believed the situation with Berger was a dire one, and he didn't feel that discussing the danger Sean was in would be helpful. So, he kept his thoughts to himself and concentrated on the search.

  Adriana tilted her head to the side as she scanned through the names on the first column of the Arc de Triomphe. She didn't see any she recognized so tapped the back button to go to the next column. Was this where she could find the list of names from Napoléon's parchment? Her hopes tickled the back of her mind, but she didn't dare let them run free. She had to stay focused.

  The second column produced the same results as the first, and she hit the back button again to return to the main page of images. She considered giving up but knew she needed to be thorough. She looked up and drew Tommy's attention.

  "Do a quick search regarding the names listed on the Arc de Triomphe here in Paris," she said. The words came out a little more demanding than she'd intended, but Tommy didn't need niceties or social conventions at a time like this. He didn't need her to say pretty please.

  "Sure," he said. "You got something?"

  She rolled her shoulders. "Maybe."

  Wagner looked up from his reading and his eyes drifted to Tommy's screen. He watched as Tommy rapidly typed in the search term. The monitor flickered, and then the two men scanned the results.

  "From this summary," Tommy said, "looks like the names on the columns are soldiers who were loyal to Napoléon."

  "Officers," Wagner corrected. "Most of them were officers
and close friends of the general."

  Adriana's pace quickened. She scanned the next column, the fourth, the fifth, and so on until she'd seen every one. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a disappointed sigh. There was no sign of the three names from the list.

  Unless…

  She started working her way back through the pictures of the columns, eyeing each one carefully and forcing herself to work through every single name in the order they appeared, from top to bottom. She used her finger to make sure she didn't skip any, which is what Adriana feared may have happened on the first pass. She wasn't the careless type, quite the contrary, her diligence and focus were nearly unmatched, but that didn't mean she was infallible. She made mistakes, though she tried to make sure those errors weren't catastrophic.

  She was halfway through the list when her breath caught in her throat. She didn't swallow, didn't breathe, didn't say a word for a moment. Then it all came rushing back.

  Adriana took a deep breath and nodded. "Gentlemen, I think we have something."

  Tommy's eyes darted from his screen and landed on hers in an instant. Wagner, too, was now fully distracted from his search.

  "What is it?" Tommy asked.

  "Come see for yourself."

  The two men started to get up to move around the table, but Adriana held out the cell phone for Tommy to take, indicating he didn't have to move all the way over. He shifted in his chair and took the device from her, holding it off center from his torso so Wagner could see what she had found.

  Tommy blinked rapidly, trying to make sure he wasn't imagining things. The words chiseled into the stone didn't change, though, and he felt overcome with a wave of excitement and, more importantly, hope.

  "That's it," Tommy said. "The three names, plus the one that was missing. That has to be it."

  Wagner nodded and began pecking away at the digital keys on the tablet's screen.