Paris Love Match

by Nigel Blackwell

  She shrugged. “Taxi? Métro? He was out of breath and sweating. Maybe he ran?”

  “Yeah. Only he was an organization freak. His house looked like it was out of a museum, compared to yours.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Then he has his will made out and stored in a bank. He’s Mr. Prepared yet he ends up chased across Paris like a madman with a painting he planned to steal.”

  “And your point is?”

  “Planned to steal. He was a perfectionist. If he intended to steal the painting, he would have had it all planned out. He would have had an escape route, he wouldn’t be jumping into a taxi.”

  “So? He messed up. It happens to the best of people, you know.”

  Piers shook his head. “No. He planned to get to the Montparnasse railway station in time to meet his girlfriend. He’d never have done it on foot. He had a plan, I’m sure of it.”

  “Look, you’re very irritating sometimes. What? Why? How does this help?”

  Piers took a last bite of his steak and put down his knife and fork. “Things didn’t go to plan. That’s why he ended up running across Paris and jumping into a taxi. “

  Sidney leaned forward. “So what? How does that help?”

  “Get a map.”

  She straightened herself up. “What?”

  “Get a map, a street map.”

  “What do you think I am? A walking map vendor strolling Paris on the off chance of making a sale to a demented Brit?”

  “Fine.” He grabbed a free tourist map from a tired looking display and spread it on the table. “Auguste starts off here, at Gare de l’Est.” He drew his finger across the map, “and ends here, at Notre Dame.”

  “About two miles.”

  “Right. And somewhere along this route he dumped the painting.”

  “You’re really narrowing it down.”

  “Let’s just keep thinking.”

  “But he could have gone in thousands of different ways. There’s so many streets.”

  “Do you think he was a good runner?”

  “That man? If he hadn’t been shot he probably would have had a heart attack.”

  “So, he ended up on foot not far from Notre Dame.”

  Sidney leaned forward. “And?”

  “And he certainly didn’t plan to use a taxi or the Métro to escape.”

  “Maybe.”

  Piers leaned back. “If he was going to escape, he’d use a car. The—”

  “Renault.”

  “Exactly.” He smiled. “All we have to do is find his car, and we find the painting.”

  “Damn. You really are pretty good at this thinking thing. Even if you are, you know, a bit annoying about it.”

  “And once we have the painting, we’ll be free.”

  He grinned, excused himself and headed for the restroom. As he left, he noticed she was typing on her phone, and the café’s males were paying her attention again. He had to fight back the urge to tell them to look somewhere else, but he was being stupid. There wasn’t any romance between them, they were just two people stuck in a bad situation. One of them just happened to be devastatingly beautiful.

  When he returned to the table, she smiled. It was close to her full thousand-watt version, but he couldn’t help but think it was tinged with something else.

  Auguste’s phone rang. Sidney looked at the display. “It’s them.”

  She flipped her phone open and smiled. Not the thousand-watt version; something altogether different. Something filled with boundless confidence—a confidence that bubbled over into her voice. “Yep.”

  Piers could hear the short guy’s high-pitched voice rasping out of the back of the phone. “If you’ve stopped for lunch, I take it you’ve found the stuff.”

  “You’re a bundle of laughs,” said Sidney.

  “More laughs than our boss will be, that’s for sure, missy. You need to get your act together. Spend less time eating and more time finding our stuff.”

  “Stuff, stuff, stuff. It’s probably not your stuff anyway.”

  “Who says?”

  “Piers.”

  Piers rolled his eyes.

  “Ohhhhh. Lover boy.”

  He leaned forward and spoke into the phone, “I’m not her lover boy.”

  Sidney turned away from him. “You can say that again. He doesn’t even like my figure.” She winked at Piers.

  Piers flushed hot and leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t say that.”

  “He sounds like a very sensitive guy,” said the little man.

  “Believe me, he is.”

  “Don’t forget, you’ve only got 16 hours left.”

  “Until what?”

  “Until you run out of time.”

  “I’ll be biting my nails then.”

  “Ho-ho. Very clever. Think I’m simple, huh?”

  Sidney hummed for a moment. “Tell your boss we don’t have the stuff and we can’t find it. Have a nice day.”

  She clicked off the phone.

  Piers shot forward. “Bloody hell!”

  She looked indignant. “What?”

  “Have you forgotten their threat? And that they’re a good deal bigger than either of us.”

  “The little one isn’t.”

  “It’s not the little one I’m worried about. Ring them back now. Tell them it was a joke.”

  “No.”

  “What? They’re outside. They’ll just wait for us to walk outside and beat the daylights out of us.”

  “But we know where the painting is. We’ll be in control. They’ll have to do what we want, and we’ll be free. You said so.”

  Piers groaned. “Maybe. When we have the painting. It may have escaped your attention, but we don’t actually have the painting yet.”

  Sidney’s face fell. Her lips curled down and her eyes seemed to get smaller. “Then what do you want to do?”

  “Call them back. Say you’re sorry.”

  As she glowered at him, Auguste’s phone rang. She flipped it open without looking.

  “What?”

  “You need to take this seriously. Our boss isn’t a nice guy. Well, I didn’t mean that, he is a nice guy, but sometimes he’s not, comprende?”

  “Comprende? My, you are well-educated.”

  “Well, I am, as it happens. Very. Now, find our painting, and pronto.”

  “Comprende and pronto, all in one phone call. How lucky can a girl get?”

  “Find the bloody painting.”

  The phone clicked off.

  Piers shook his head. “They found us again. They might be idiots, but don’t antagonize them, because they might be idiots with guns and knives.”

  “They don’t look like they could handle guns.”

  “You’d be surprised. Especially if you push them over the edge.”

  “I’d be only too happy to push them over the edge.”

  He smiled. “I’d be only too happy to get rid of them as well, but for the time being we have to put up with them.”

  “Maybe we should take the knives, for safety.”

  Piers looked at his knife and laughed. “You’d be better off with the fork than this knife.”

  She wiped her fork on her napkin and slipped it into her handbag.

  He rolled his eyes. “Is there anything you haven’t tried to nick?”

  She pulled a face at him.

  He took a last mouthful of fries and pushed the plate away. The waiter arrived, scooped it away and dropped the check, all without speaking.

  Piers glanced at the amount and dropped a couple of bills on the table.

  “What now?” said Sidney.

  He finished his coffee. “We start at Gare de l’Est and follow the route Auguste took. Which means we’ve got a long walk.”

  She stood up and headed for the exit. “No, it doesn’t. Come on.”

  Chapter 20

  Piers chased Sidney out to the sidewalk. Little and Large were parked across the street. Little grinned at him from the driver’s seat
and tapped his watch.

  “Come on,” Sidney said as she stepped out into a small gap in the traffic.

  Little’s grin disappeared in an instant.

  “Wait!” Piers leapt out into the road and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  She shook him off. “If they’re going to follow us around then they can give us a lift.”

  “Are you mad? We want to get away from them, not closer.”

  A horn honked and they jumped back onto their side of the street.

  “It’s a long walk.” She shrugged, “What have we got to lose?”

  “Them. We want to lose them.”

  “Come on, you can handle them.”

  He heard the Fiat’s engine rev and the gears crunch.

  Sidney ran across the road and stood in front of the car, her hand on the hood. “Wait, you can drive us.”

  Little waved no.

  Piers dodged the traffic and reached Sidney. “We can’t do this. This isn’t good.”

  “Stand there,” she said, pointing to the front of the car.

  Little waved at him to get out of the way.

  Sidney opened the passenger door. Piers held his breath. If Large punched her, she’d really be hurting. To his surprise, Large got out of the car and folded himself into the rear.

  “Get lost!” said Little. “You can’t get in here.”

  Sidney waved to Piers. “Come on, get in.”

  Piers looked at Large and the space beside him. “There’s no way I’ll fit in there.”

  Sidney ducked down and flipped open the canvas roof. “Go for it. I need to be in front to give directions.”

  Little reached to close the roof. “Leave that alone.”

  Sidney slapped his wrist and he drew his hand back.

  Piers squeezed into the tiny rear space.

  Large looked at him. “Sorry about this. Weren’t expecting passengers.”

  “No problem. This is fine. Thanks.”

  Sidney slid gracefully into the front seat.

  Little stared at her. “What do you think you’re doing? We’re trained killers you know.”

  The big guy leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone. “Give it a rest. We just do cars—like this.”

  Piers put his hand to his forehead. “You stole this car?”

  Large looked sheepish. “If I had known we were going to have company, I would have got something bigger.”

  “We need to get out,” said Piers.

  “The best thing you’ve said so far, lover boy,” said Little.

  “Gare de l’Est,” said Sidney. “We are not getting out, and you are driving us there. Or Piers here will sort you out.”

  “Sort us out?” said Little.

  “Sort them out?” said Piers.

  Large rotated his shoulders then smacked his first into the palm of his other hand. “You wouldn’t want to do that now would you?”

  “No,” said Piers. “No, I wouldn’t”

  “Oh, yes he would,” said Sidney. “He’s the worst of the worst and you don’t want to get on his wrong side. Gare de l’Est, now.”

  “And why would we drive you there?”

  “Because we’ll get out there. Because we might find your stuff, and because,” she jerked her head toward Piers, “he might hurt you if you don’t.”

  Little gave Piers an incredulous look.

  Sidney ignored him, sat back in her seat and buckled her belt. “Come on, vite, vite.”

  Little muttered, shoved the car into gear and lurched out into the traffic.

  Large grabbed the driver’s seat and leaned forward. “Would it be better if I drove?”

  “It’s a light clutch,” said Little. “It’s grabby. It’s small cars. I’m not used to them. I usually drive sports cars and stuff.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. You should have said. I could have nicked a Ferrari instead, Reynard.”

  Little screwed his head down into his neck. “Don’t say my name.”

  Large winked, “Sorry. And that may or may not be his name.”

  “Riiight,” said Piers. “Thinking of secrets, how do you two keep turning up everywhere we go?”

  Large nodded toward Piers chest. “You’ve got Auguste’s phone.”

  “You’re tracking it?”

  Large pulled out an iPhone. “There’s an app for that.” He smiled and nodded toward Piers’ clothes. “Plus, you’re not exactly hard to spot.”

  Piers’ face fell. “Riiight.”

  They drove on in a silence that Piers was very grateful for. The air blowing over his head from the open top was refreshing while he was squeezed in the tiny rear seat. The sights and sounds of Paris passed by, mainly honking horns and pedestrians shouting at passing cars. The smells went by, too. Mainly diesel and urine. Sometimes it seemed like there wasn’t a single piece of Paris that someone hadn’t peed on.

  Little broke the silence. “What are you going to this place for?”

  “A walk.”

  “You better not be planning to leave Paris. And I mean it.”

  “Nope. We’re going for a walk.”

  “Why?”

  “None of your business,” said Sidney. “Just drop us off on the corner and you two can go get a late lunch.”

  “We’re not going to get lunch. We’re going to watch you two.”

  “We could,” Large said, “I’m famished.”

  “How can you think of eating at a time like this?”

  “A time like what? It’s almost—”

  “Stop!” said Sidney, thumping her hand on the dashboard.

  Little jumped on the brakes and dived for the curb, ending up parked at an angle, poking out into the traffic. “What the hell?”

  Sidney unbuckled her belt. “We’re close enough.” In a moment she was out of the car and holding the door open for Piers. He ignored it and pushed himself over the folding roof and out the rear of the car.

  A delivery van behind them honked its horn.

  She slammed the door and leaned over the open roof. “Right. You two go and enjoy your meal, and we’ll see what we can find here.”

  “Oh, no. We’re going to stay here, watching you.”

  The delivery van honked longer.

  Sidney tapped the side of the car. “Better get a move on. You’re blocking the road. See you in an hour.”

  She walked off and the Fiat crept out into the traffic. As it went by, Large put his hand up to wave. Little yanked his arm back down.

  Chapter 21

  Piers could see the square in front of Gare de l’Est. The police were clearing up the yellow tape and paraphernalia of a crime scene, and a TV van was parked in one corner.

  “Not that way,” he said.

  “Really?” she said. “Your brilliance amazes me.”

  He pulled out the tourist map and folded it to get Gare de l’Est and Notre Dame visible at the same time.

  Sidney looked over his shoulder. “Where did he come from before he jumped in our taxi?”

  “I don’t know. I was too busy having an argument with this other person who jumped in my”— he looked at her sideways—“our taxi.”

  She punched him in the ribs. “I saw it before you. It was my taxi.”

  “Oh, right, the old Paris taxi etiquette. I forgot. Either way, I think he must have approached the taxi from behind, otherwise we’d have seen him running toward us.”

  She pointed to the map. “If he was driving, the best route would be along Strasbourg, Pont Au Change, Saint Michael, then a right turn over to Montparnasse station. Easy, if the traffic’s not bad, which it always is, so he’d probably use the side roads.”

  He looked along the route. “That’s a lot of roads.”

  “What color was the car?” Sidney said.

  Piers flipped through the sales receipt. “Blue.”

  She grabbed the paper. “Is that all it says: blue?”

  She studied it for a moment and shoved it back into Piers’ hands. “Must have been written b
y a man.”

  Within a minute, Piers spotted a blue Renault 5. He ran to it. It looked old, but in good condition. There was no stripe, but it could have worn off. He cupped his hands around his face to look in through the windows. Empty fast food wrappers were everywhere and the ashtray was full.

  “Can I help you?” said a voice behind him.

  Piers spun around. “I’m, er, we’re looking for a friend’s Renault 5.”

  A well-dressed man sneered at Piers. “Really. Well, this isn’t it. Get lost.”

  “We are looking—” Piers said.

  Sidney dragged him away by the elbow. “Don’t make a scene.”

  Piers freed himself from Sidney’s grip. “Don’t make a scene? You’re a good one to say that.”

  The man got into the Renault and pulled out to a chorus of car horns. Piers watched the car disappear in the traffic.

  Sidney shook him back to the real world. “We need to find the painting. We have to focus now.”

  “Wow. Suddenly, you’re all business.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you were the one who wanted to take this more seriously.”

  “I do.”

  “Then get walking and start looking.”

  Piers took a deep breath and let his nerves calm. She was right. One minute he was the one focused on the painting, the next it was her.

  For the next two hours, they walked along the alleys and side streets checking an endless string of Renaults until Sidney called a stop and leaned against a railing. She pried off one shoe and massaged her foot. “This is stupid. Like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”

  Piers stretched the backs of his legs. “Next time, let’s kick Little and Large out, and we’ll keep the car.”

  “You’ve waited all this time to think of that?”

  Her phone buzzed. She read a message, pressed a couple of buttons, and stuffed it back in her pocket. “Friend. Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “To walk this bloody route.”

  Piers sighed and followed along after her. He rearranged the folds in the map to keep up with their location. After an hour, the Seine came into view. “That’s it. I’ve had enough,” she said, stopping on the sidewalk.

  “There’s only one more street,” Piers said.

  She looked at the last side road before the bridge to the island on which Notre Dame sat. She shook her head. “Sometimes I hate you. Lead on.”