Stealing Mona Lisa

by Carson Morton

  Observing the pattern made by the debris in the swirling stream, Émile judged that the current was stronger in the middle of the boulevard and weaker along the sides. Keeping close to the façades of the buildings, he began to make his way toward the river. It was hard going. The water was cold and he had lost much of the feeling in his feet; it was up to his knees, and his thighs ached from the effort it took to move forward.

  About two-thirds of the way to the metro station, Émile lost his footing and he fell face-forward into the water. The current immediately grabbed him and, gasping for air, he flailed about trying to find something to hold on to. Even though the water was barely three feet deep, a cold helpless panic rose in his chest. He tried to get back to his feet but the current was too strong. As he swallowed a mouthful of filthy water, his left hand raked violently along a line of metal gateposts. In spite of the searing pain, he managed to grab hold of one of the posts to stop his momentum. With all his might, he pulled himself closer to the gate, got a grip with his other hand, and stood up.

  Clinging tightly to the gateposts, he tried to catch his breath as he gauged the remaining distance to the metro station. The rising water and growing force of the current tugging at his legs made it seem impossibly far away.

  Still gasping for air, a heavy cloak of utter exhaustion fell over him. His legs felt like blocks of stone, and he was struck by the urge to let go and surrender to the rushing water. He thought of Valfierno. What would he say? You’ve done all you can, perhaps, or, It would be foolish to risk your life further. He knew what Julia would be thinking: She wouldn’t be expecting him to make it back. After all, he couldn’t even copy a key correctly. Thinking of this made him angry. She thought she knew everything, but in reality she knew nothing at all about him. She had no idea what he was capable of. He felt the rage slowly rising in his chest, breaking through the dull fatigue.

  He lifted his foot and took a step forward.

  Chapter 48

  Inspector Carnot stared nervously at the increasing flow of water cascading down the steps from the street.

  “It’s getting worse,” he said, his voice tight with apprehension.

  “It doesn’t look good,” agreed Peruggia.

  Valfierno’s and Taggart’s eyes remained locked together as the water swirled around their feet seeking the lower level of the sunken tracks.

  “He’s right,” said Valfierno, trying to sound reasonable. “We all need to get out of here now.”

  Taggart lifted the barrel of his gun slightly. “We stay.”

  “Then we need to at least get them out.” Valfierno indicated the carriage.

  Taggart slowly shook his head. “We do nothing until Mr. Hart returns.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Carnot asked, a shrill panic seeping into his voice.

  Taggart’s eyes never left Valfierno. “We stay here.”

  The sound of a muffled shot filtered down from the street.

  “What is that?” asked Peruggia.

  “Rifle fire,” said Carnot. “It’s a warning signal of some kind.”

  “Mr. Taggart,” said Valfierno, his voice gaining urgency, “this is clearly not the place to be if the flood gets worse.”

  “This has gone too far,” said Carnot, stepping toward Taggart. “In my capacity as an officer of the Prefecture of Police, I insist that we—”

  In one swift movement, Taggart swung his gun toward Carnot and fired. In the enclosed space, the explosion was deafening. By the time the inspector fell backward onto the wet platform, he was dead. In spite of the dampening effect of the water, the report echoed off the station walls.

  “Madonna,” muttered Peruggia, staring down at Carnot’s lifeless body.

  “We stay here,” said Taggart, swinging the gun back toward Valfierno. His tone remained calm and even.

  Another muffled rifle shot penetrated down from outside. Valfierno made up his mind.

  “I’m getting them out now.” He turned toward the carriage.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Taggart warned.

  “Are you going to shoot everyone?” Valfierno asked without looking back.

  Taggart extended the gun toward Valfierno’s back, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  Valfierno reached the carriage door and gripped its handle.

  The gun fired.

  Valfierno cringed but felt no impact. He turned and saw Peruggia and Taggart thrashing about on the platform, wildly struggling for possession of the gun.

  Valfierno heard yet another distant explosion. He turned back to the carriage, pulled open the door, and stepped inside.

  Ellen’s eyes looked hopefully at him as he slipped her gag off.

  “I knew you’d come,” she gasped.

  “I would never disappoint you,” Valfierno said before untying her hands.

  Her hands free, Ellen started to untie her feet. Valfierno turned to Julia and removed her gag.

  “It’s about time!”

  “Sorry, mademoiselle,” Valfierno said, struggling with the bonds around her wrists, “but I was delayed by the weather.”

  Valfierno looked back toward the platform. Taggart and Peruggia were both on their feet in a frozen tableau. Taggart had retrieved his gun and held it not two feet from Peruggia’s face.

  Valfierno stepped over to the carriage door. As he did, the carriage began to vibrate. A low rumbling tremor, like a small earthquake, rolled through the station.

  Taggart smiled.

  “Don’t shoot!” Valfierno shouted.

  Taggart’s gaze shifted to Valfierno. He was smirking. He was back in control.

  The vibrations increased in intensity as if something ominous was approaching from deep within the black tunnel.

  “I warned you,” said Taggart, his voice a cool monotone.

  Oblivious to everything else, Taggart turned to Peruggia and pulled the trigger. Only the sound of a sharp click penetrated the low rumble. A look of surprise replaced the steely smile on Taggart’s face. He pulled back the slide on the barrel. Peruggia leaped at Taggart, struggling for the gun a split second before the rumble became a rushing roar. A torrent of water exploded down the steps at the same time that a violent surge sluiced out from the tunnel to the rear of the carriage. The car’s occupants braced themselves as the deluge rocked them from side to side. The churning wall of water knocked Peruggia and Taggart down like a pair of ninepins, sweeping them, along with Carnot’s body, onto the tracks and into the dark mouth of the tunnel in front of the carriage.

  Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the flood of water began to subside.

  “What happened to them?” Ellen asked.

  “Peruggia, Taggart, and the policeman are gone,” Valfierno said. “The river must have broken through the sandbag wall. It’s let up now. In a few minutes, we should be able to make it back up to the street.”

  Julia looked with astonishment out at the flooded platform. “What about Émile?” she asked frantically. “Is he all right?”

  Valfierno looked at her. “I don’t know.”

  * * *

  Émile moved across the fronts of the buildings until he was parallel to the metro entrance across the wide boulevard Saint-Michel. The small breach in the sandbag wall had caused the initial rush of water, but it looked like most of the barrier was still in place holding back the river. At least for now. Water seeped between the remaining bags and Émile knew that it was only a matter of time before the entire barrier collapsed.

  Beneath the MÉTROPOLITAIN sign still held up by its arched iron support, the entrance to the station was a gaping hole, its temporary wooden work shack having been swept away. A steady stream of water flowed into the yawning mouth as if it were a giant drain. The thought of going down those steps filled Émile with an ice-cold dread and he froze in place. To die up here in the open air was one thing, but he couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in the suffocating, flooded tunnels.

  His attention was suddenly drawn to a bundle of ragg
ed clothing sweeping through the break in the sandbags. It careened across the street and became entangled on a jumble of chairs and tables that had piled up against the front of a corner café. A strip of cloth that was caught on one of the chairs began to steadily unravel as the current tore at the bundle. Then it broke free and swirled toward him.

  He saw that it was not a bundle of clothing after all. It was a body, the small body of a child. Émile watched with horror as it approached him on a direct collision course.

  And then, when it was only a few yards away, one of the legs snagged on something beneath the surface. The body spun around, turning slightly onto its side and revealing a face.

  Émile felt as if all the breath in his lungs had been violently sucked out.

  The sound of the rushing water faded as he realized that the body in the water was his sister Madeleine. An unnatural silence descended around him and Émile became nine years old again. His heart filled with a curious mixture of joy and immense sadness: joy that he had at last found her, and heartbreaking sadness that he was too late to save her. The irrational feelings coursed through him in a terrible conflicting surge of emotion.

  Then the reality of the moment and the sounds of the flooding city rushed back as the body broke free and swept past him, revealing the corpse of an old woman. The desiccated body, small and frail as a child, must have been pulled from its grave somewhere upriver. Transfixed, Émile watched it drift away down the middle of the boulevard into the heart of Paris.

  Another explosion, closer this time, pulled his attention back to the river. Water was spilling over the barricades. What remained of the sandbag wall was starting to collapse.

  * * *

  Standing at the carriage door, Valfierno looked out over the platform, trying to gauge the strength of the current as the water continued to subside.

  “Is it safe?” asked Ellen.

  “Hardly,” replied Valfierno. “But I think it’s safer than it was. Are you ready?”

  “Do we have a choice?” asked Julia, trying to bolster her courage.

  Valfierno gave them both a reassuring look. “We’ll have to use the main entrance.” He indicated the staircase to the right. “The other exit could be blocked.”

  Julia followed Valfierno’s gaze to the valise still sitting on the bench against the side wall.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

  “Yes, and I suppose it would be a good idea to take it with us,” he replied with a sardonic smile. “We’ll hold each other’s hands. I’ll go first and pick up the valise on the way.”

  He held his hand out to Ellen. She took it and in turn held hers out to Julia. Valfierno stepped onto the platform. The water was above his ankles but the current did not seem too strong. Holding on to each other like links in a chain, they all moved across the platform at an angle toward the curved wall. As Valfierno reached out with his left hand and gripped the handle of the valise, he heard the distant thump of the second explosion and felt a shuddering tremor beneath his feet.

  * * *

  Above them, the wall of sandbags began bulging inward. It was only a matter of seconds before the remaining section of wall gave way. Émile raced across to the station entrance. Pumping his legs wildly to raise them above the flow, he quickly covered the remaining distance. At the same instant that he grabbed a leg of the iron arch supporting the MÉTROPOLITAIN sign, what was left of the sandbag barrier collapsed, releasing a deluge of water into the street.

  He looked down the steps, gripped a side rail, and started descending into the black hole. When he was halfway down, the wall of water plunged into the entrance above and a second later hit him with the impact of a giant fist. The irresistible force tore his grip loose from the rail and swept him into a narrow side passageway. Tumbling helplessly in the roiling water, he held his breath and flailed about for something to hold on to. His bursting lungs were about to reflexively fill themselves with water when he opened his eyes and saw her again.

  Just ahead—her small figure shimmering and indistinct in the water—his sister Madeleine held out her hand to him. His consciousness rapidly fading, Émile reached out and grasped it, but instead of the soft hand of a child, he felt the cold, hard steel of a metal handrail.

  Chapter 49

  Their hands locked tightly together, Valfierno, Ellen, and Julia were within a few yards of the steps leading up to the main entrance when they were struck by a sudden blast of air rushing down from above.

  “What’s that?” cried Ellen.

  Valfierno hesitated for only a second. “We have to turn around,” he shouted. “The other entrance, quickly!”

  Ellen and Valfierno let go of each other’s hands and turned in unison. Julia felt Ellen’s hand slip from hers as she saw a wall of water surging down the steps. She began running toward the rear exit. It was easier to run with the flow than against it, but it became trickier to maintain her balance.

  Valfierno reached his empty hand to Ellen. Before she could take it, her feet shot out from beneath her and she tumbled onto the platform, the rising water cushioning her fall. Valfierno was about to pull her up when the wall of frigid water slammed into them.

  Running ahead of Valfierno and Ellen, Julia had almost reached the rear exit when the column of water hit her. She was thrown violently up against the steps where they met the side wall that separated the rear exit from the track tunnel. Reeling from the pain, she desperately tried to resist the current pulling her toward the tracks. She reached out toward the corner of the rear exit for something to hold on to, but all she found was the slippery surface of the steps.

  Then, seconds before the raging water peeled her away, someone grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of the flow and up onto the steps.

  Breathless, she looked up into the face of her rescuer.

  “Émile!” she gasped, her eyes wide with amazement.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling down.

  For a moment, she just stared into his eyes, her own wide with delight. Then her face tightened.

  “Where have you been?” She scowled, letting the tension of the last few hours drain from her in a flash of anger.

  “Trying not to drown,” he said before urgently adding, “Where are the others?”

  “I don’t know. They were right behind me.”

  Émile looked out across the cauldron of water raging down the steps of the main entrance and diagonally across the platform, striking the side of the carriage before it swept onto the tracks. There was no one in sight.

  Then he heard someone call out Julia’s name.

  * * *

  The force of the terrible wave knocked Valfierno off his feet. Dragged helplessly by the flow, he managed to lift his head in time to see Ellen careening off the platform onto the tracks before disappearing into the tunnel. He caught a brief glimpse of someone pulling Julia up onto the rear exit steps before the wave pinned him to the connecting wall. Winded, he looked toward the rear exit directly to his left.

  “Julia?” he called out.

  Émile poked his head around the corner. A big surprised smile formed on the young man’s face as he reached out and shouted, “Take my hand!”

  “Catch this!” Valfierno swung up the valise and tossed it toward the steps. Émile reached out to grab it but the sodden bag was heavier than Valfierno had judged and it fell short. Valfierno didn’t hesitate. Sacrificing his balance, he reached out with both hands and grasped the handle as the valise swept back past him. An instant later, the rush of water carried him off the platform and into the dark maw of the tunnel.

  Chapter 50

  Julia grabbed Émile by his arm as he instinctively took a step onto the platform.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  “Going after him.”

  “Can you even swim?”

  Émile hesitated. “No.”

  “Then you’re not going to help him by drowning yourself!”

  Émile g
runted in frustration and, overcome with exhaustion, sat back dejectedly onto the steps, burying his face in his hands. Julia put her arms around his shoulders.

  “Émile,” she said. “You did everything you could. You saved my life.”

  He didn’t respond. She put her hand under his chin and lifted his face toward her. In her other hand she held out his pocket watch. “Here, maybe this will cheer you up,” she said, grinning tentatively.

  He stared at it with a dazed expression before looking up at her. A tired smile formed on his face as he gently took it.

  “And you might as well have this too,” she added, then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

  He returned the kiss for a moment, then drew back.

  “That was the third time you’ve done that,” he said, a little bewildered.

  “I had no idea you were counting.”

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he said.

  She looked at him, hurt and confused. “What? Kiss you?”

  “No,” he said as if explaining something to a child. “Steal my watch.”

  Her smile returned as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then he took her by the wrists, removed her arms, and gently pushed her away.

  A new determination burned in his eyes. “Let’s go. We’re not finished yet.”

  * * *

  Valfierno broke the surface of the water. Behind him, the arched tunnel entrance shrank into the distance as the underground river swept him away and darkness eclipsed the dim light of the platform. The current was irresistible, but the water was less than six feet deep so he was able to kick his feet off the tunnel floor to gasp for air. The bitter cold water stung the exposed flesh of his face and hands. Despite the strong urge to let go of the valise to free up his arm, he forced himself to maintain a tight grip on the handle.

  Every fifteen feet or so, a dim ceiling lamp faintly illuminated the tunnel like a haunted-house ride at a carnival. Rushing along, he could see little ahead of him other than the long curving line of bulbs. Then something white appeared on the wall to his right. Rapidly approaching, he saw to his amazement that it was Ellen, hanging on to a vertical pipe that climbed the wall to the ceiling. About six feet closer, a metal ladder clung to the wall running parallel to the pipe. With only seconds to react, he switched the valise to his left hand, reached out with his right, and grabbed the side rail of the ladder.