by JB Sanders
Glen carefully walked over to one of the study tables and set the books down. As he opened the first tome, he glanced over at Tyler. His husband was tossing a pencil into the air, leaning back in his chair and quite obviously counting how many flips he could get. If their bodyguards weren't standing around him, one of the librarians most certainly would have noticed and stopped him.
Smiling, Glen studied the book. It was a seventeenth century text about the great Roman orators, itself a copy of a much earlier Medieval work. Glen started scanning the Latin, turning the pages as fast as he dared and taking careful notes. He knew the quote from the statue in Notre Dame was here somewhere.
After a while, Glen found something close, and he stared off into space to mentally compare the two phrases. Even with possible translation and transcription errors, he concluded they weren't the same. Before he looked back down to the book, Glen noticed a bald man, mid to late 30's, staring at him. As soon as their eyes met, the bald man looked away.
It's not like Glen didn't sometimes get masculine attention, but considering their circumstances, he felt justified in being a little nervous about it.
Half an hour later, on discovering another phrase that looked good, he looked up and across the room. Baldy was staring at him again, and looked away.
Ok, Glen knew he wasn't that attractive.
"Hey, um, Tyler?" Glen looked back down at the book as if he'd found something.
Tyler dropped the legs of his chair and leaned forward excitedly. "Found it?"
"No."
"Oh."
"Do you see that bald guy on the other side of the room?" Glen didn't point or look up.
Tyler leaned back in his chair and started tossing the pencil again. "Baldy? Yeah, we noticed him. Real amateur hour."
"Oh, not just a perv?"
Tyler grinned and nearly stabbed himself with the pencil. "Well, he could be both. But yeah, we're keeping an eye on him like he's waiting for just the right opening to shoot you."
"Oh good."
Glen went back to the Romans.
He found the phrase halfway through the third book. Now that he knew the speech, Glen thought he knew where they had to go next. He carefully closed the book and stood up.
Tyler nearly fell over. "And?"
"Yeah, I got it. Let's go."
Tyler grinned and shook his head.
Chapter Twenty
The Eiffel Tower by Moonlight and LED
Thursday night
The elevator squeaked as it rose. It was bizarre ascending the Eiffel Tower at night. Everything was bright, which you expect during the day, but at night, all the light was artificial. This night was particularly odd, since the tower was lit entirely in shades of blue. Glen felt like they were in some kind of weird 1960's dream sequence.
It was a damn good thing Tyler was there, though, holding his hand and getting into his personal space, because otherwise Glen might have had a panic attack in the elevator. The damn thing was enclosed, but it was all windows. And with an open steel structure like the Eiffel Tower, you could see everything. And there was more everything than Glen wanted to see. He wasn't great with heights.
The elevator binged, and the doors opened. They'd stopped at the first level. The conductor -- because an elevator the size of a train car needed a conductor -- explained in several languages what the first floor had to offer. After a couple of minutes, and some re-arranging as people disembarked, the doors closed and the elevator rose again. Glen caught one good look at the view and closed his eyes.
"Okay?" Tyler asked, practically in his ear.
"Yeah, just let me know when we get there."
Tyler squeezed his hand.
Another minute went by and then the elevator stopped again. The conductor asked everyone, very politely, to get off the elevator. James and Kevin stepped out, looked around and then James jerked his head. Glen and Tyler followed him, and then George and Steve came along behind. There wasn't much risk of trouble, too many people wanted things from them, but James liked to be thorough.
Glen had to admit, the view from this floor of the Eiffel Tower was spectacular at night.
"Oh, I forgot to ask in the car--" Tyler started.
"--Because you were too busy kissing me?" Glen let the bubble of laughter chase away his acrophobia.
"Yeah, that. How did Lance look today?"
Glen sighed. "Tired, frustrated. I think the confinement is really starting to get to him. The lawyers were able to get him some books, but what he really wants to do is paint."
Tyler squeezed Glen's hand. "Soon. We'll have him out soon."
They only had to walk a quarter of the way around the promenade to find their party. The men stood out, even with the sparse number of tourists. Each of the guys was bald -- shaved heads, most likely -- and dressed in dark, conservative colors, at least, as far as Glen could tell in the bright blue light. They weren't wearing swastikas or anything, but it didn't take a PhD in Modern History to guess their affiliation.
One of the men stepped forward slightly and looked right at Tyler. It was Baldy. The man had a sneer on his face, and contempt in his voice. "Conrad."
"Well, I'm here, what's your story?" Tyler sounded bored.
Glen could see the sneer morph into anger. "Listen to me, you little tas de merde, you will show real men respect, or we will cut you down here."
"Uh huh. Who are you, and what do you want?"
The man visibly calmed himself. "You may call me Theo, or sir. What I want is your complete cooperation. When you find the treasure of my Fatherland, you will turn it over to me."
The lights faded into another shade of blue, this one darker than the last.
Tyler nodded. "And if I don't, grenades?"
"Exactly. Or worse."
Tyler nodded, pondering. "And what about the King's Club?"
Theo made a dismissive gesture. "Those effete hypocrites don't believe in the cause -- they only want the money for more power. Always more power. They don't believe in anything else."
Tyler nodded again. "And what if I just have my guys shoot you?"
"I don't care how many untermenshen you've brought--"
"Watch it." James said menacingly.
Theo spit on the floor, looking right at James.
The security guys leaned forward, tensing for action. Several put their hands near their guns.
Tyler made a gesture and everyone in their group relaxed.
Glen had been watching Tyler for years, and had seen him do this kind of command trick before, but he still could not figure out how Tyler, who was easily three inches shorter than anyone in his group and despite his well-toned muscles, slim, could -- with just a gesture -- impose his will.
When Glen turned his eyes to Theo, he could tell that Tyler's simple act had deeply intimidated him. Even Tyler's enemies felt the force of his personality.
"That's enough of that," Tyler stated with finality. "Fine. When we find the treasure, it's yours. Phone number?"
Theo swallowed into a grimace and handed Tyler a card. He and his men left, some of them shooting glances back at Tyler as they walked away.
"Well, that could have gone worse." Tyler strolled over to the railing, pulling Glen along by his hand.
***
"Wow." Tyler said, looking out at the view.
Paris by night, a full moon overhead fighting with the city's lights for dominance of the sky, was a sight Glen would never forget. From the Eiffel Tower, the city was like a galaxy of lights spread out before them, with Glen and Tyler at the helm of a fantastic Victorian airship, sailing quietly into the ether. It was chill but Tyler's hand was warm. For just an instant, all their troubles faded into the background and Glen just drank in the moment like it was the finest wine.
With a breath, he let it pass, and then turned to Tyler. He spoke in a hushed voice. "Yeah, amazing."
Tyler turned, too. "Not as amazing as you."
"Flatterer."
Glen leaned in and
kissed Tyler. They dissolved into each other and lost all sense of time, the world just passing away from them.
Until the flash went off.
They broke off the kiss and looked over at Tim, who was lowering his phone. Glen and Tyler both glared.
"What?" Tim said. "You'll thank me later."
Tyler kissed Glen again, a quick peck on the lips, and then turned back from the view. "Probably. If it looks good. Otherwise, thanks for ruining a perfect moment."
"Well, the guys were going to die of exposure if we didn't get going soon." Tim sounded serious but his face was seconds from laughing out loud.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Louvre is Big
Friday afternoon
Not to know what happened before you were born is to remain forever a child.
▪Cicero, M. Tulli Ciceronis Orator Ad M. Brutum (46 B.C.)
***
"How the hell are we going to get into the back rooms of the largest museum in the world?" Tyler paced up and down next to the dining room table.
Glen leaned back in his chair. "No problem."
Tyler stopped. "No problem? What's that? I was working on a thing with helicopters, rappelling ropes, skintight black outfits -- the works!"
"I like where you're going with the outfits, but I don't think they'll jive with my idea."
"Which is?"
Glen smiled and held up a phone. "I can get us in with just one phone call."
Tyler gave him a pursed-lipped look. "Spill."
Glen grinned. "You can listen in, if you like. But first you'll have to call me Doctor Merriwether."
***
They disembarked from the SUV quickly, and then it sped away. The street along this side of the Louvre was very busy, and even pausing as long as they did elicited a brass band of honking. James and Kevin preceded Glen and Tyler to the door, and George and Jacques brought up the rear. Getting that many people out of a vehicle that quickly used to feel like a clown car routine -- but now it felt like some kind of ballet they'd all rehearsed.
The man who met them at the staff entrance to the Louvre was dapper in his grey suit. He had white hair slicked back and tiny round glasses perched on his nose. His beard was white and picturesque. He looked like a cross between a kindly old uncle and some kind of miniature Santa Clause.
"Doctor Merriwether, bonjour! So good to meet you. Doctor Blake was most effusive in his praise for your work. I'm thrilled I can help you solve one of your little puzzles."
Glen looked shy and embarrassed. "Thank you, Doctor Lemieux. I really appreciate you helping us on this."
Lemieux waved Glen's concern away. "No, no, think nothing of it. I'm half-retired here anyway, and art mysteries are my passion."
The little man escorted them through a security door, past several swipe-card locks and into what appeared to be his office. It was cramped, and decorated in post-modern book storage. Light barely filtered in from the tiny window, and the overhead fluorescents buzzed.
He rubbed his hands together. "So, what can I help you find?"
Glen looked wary. "I should tell you that there is some risk in helping us. There are other people, dangerous people, who are also trying to solve this puzzle."
Lemieux waved Glen's concern away. "Pah! I am an old widower, and my children have disappointed me and all become policemen. Come, tell me."
Glen nodded. "What does the phrase 'Non nobis solum nati sumus' make you think of?"
Lemieux muttered under his breath, repeating the Latin phrase several times. "Hmm, it sounds familiar but I can't place it, I'm afraid. Do you have anything more?"
"What do you know about the public speeches given by Cicero about Mark Antony, the Phillipics?"
Lemieux's eyes lit up. "Ah! That's it! I thought I knew that phrase. The Soldier of Mutina."
Glen smiled. "Exactly. Is the statue here?"
Lemieux nodded. "Of course. I'll have to get you some passes, but that shouldn't take long. Just be careful in the storeroom."
***
In contrast to the public galleries, the back areas of the Louvre were a lot like someone's attic. Someone's crazy huge attic, which was filled with the great artworks of the world's civilizations. There were perfect Greek statues, often lacking arms or heads. There were Ancient Egyptian stele, exalting the deeds of some long-dead pharaoh. There were statues of heroes and gods and nymphs, soldiers and maidens. A lot of things were covered in large tarps, and everything was tagged to within an inch of its life.
It took them some time to find the statue, even with the directions Lemieux had given them.
"Holy crap, that's big." Tyler played his flashlight over the large nude man. It was a Roman-style statue, with the crested helm of a Legionnaire but wearing nothing else. The man had a really ripped body, a spear and the proverbial fig leaf.
"Larger than life." Glen said.
They spent some time looking around the parts of the statue they could see. There was so much clutter around it, that wasn't much.
"Hey, look, there's another plaque tacked onto the back." Tyler shone his light over it, his head bobbing behind the large base.
"Where?"
"Here."
Glen squeezed behind the sculpture and looked down. There was indeed another plaque on the back, more modern-looking -- with writing he could barely make out. Glen looked over at Tyler to see what he could read at this angle, and Tyler wasn't even looking down.
"What are you looking at?"
Tyler's flashlight lit up the nude man's behind. "Am I abnormally horny tonight or does this statue have a great ass?"
Glen pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow.
Tyler finally looked at him, and looked a little sheepish. "What? He does. Not as nice as yours of course, but nice."
Glen sighed and shown his light up. "Yes, Mr Horny-at-all-hours, the statue of a man from three thousand years ago does have a great ass. And yes, not as good as mine, and not a patch on yours."
Tyler beamed.
Glen frowned. "But the point of squishing in back here was to read the plaque, not purve on statues. I can't read anything this close to it and the flashlight just makes it worse."
"Oh, that." Tyler made a dismissive gesture. "I used my phone to snap a picture of the plaque before you came back here. You can read it clear as day." He held up his phone. "I just wanted to get a private moment for this."
Given the confined space, Tyler somewhat awkwardly put his arms around Glen. Then Tyler raised up on his tip-toes a little and kissed him.
After a minute savoring each other, they made their way out and back to the aisle of the storeroom.
"Ok, so what did you get?" Glen peered over Tyler's shoulder at his phone.
Tyler held it up. "The plaque says 'Restored to the Louvre by E. Conrad' and then some kind of flowery phrase and then a bunch of tiny numbers at the bottom."
"What's the phrase?"
"Uh," Tyler zoomed the picture. "I think, 'the rude sea grew civil at her song' -- sound familiar?"
"Yeah, but I'm not really sure how it's applicable."
"Ok, what about the numbers?" Tyler zoomed in the picture even more. "Um: 48, 48, 17, 30, 2, 7, 10, 43. Anything?"
Glen shook his head in confusion.
James snorted. "Really, you two? Nothing comes to mind?"
Tyler gave James a somewhat arch expression. "Mr Harroway? Something to share with the class?"
It was sometimes amazing to Glen how easily Tyler could sound like some aging spinster teaching high school history.
James nearly smirked, his blocky face lightening just slightly. "Where did you say you went to military school? I think their tactical studies unit needs some serious work." James used his index fingers to trace a square in the air. "Latitude and longitude."
Tyler threw surprise around his face like it was confetti at a parade. "Damn. Good catch."
"So where is that?" Glen pulled out his phone, but Jacques was already there.
"That is
Versailles. I think the gardens, specifically." He looked up from his smart phone. "Opens 9 in the morning."
Chapter Twenty-Two
This Too Shall Pass
Saturday morning
Glen was watching the morning news, waiting for Tyler to get back from some financial crisis or whatever the Big Secret Operation was he'd been working on lately. Glen was looking forward to getting Lance out of jail and putting this whole Paris thing behind them.
The weather report was over, and the commentator came back on. Behind him was some kind of logo with a crown in it.
"And now ... "
As the news anchor started talking, Tyler banged open the door--
"...back to our main story..."
--dashed across the room--
"...of the day..."
--slid--
"...the conspiracy--"
-- and hit the power button on the large flat-screen TV so hard it wobbled.
Tyler stood up abruptly, putting himself in front of the TV as if it were still on and Glen might see something naughty.
"What the hell, Tyler?" Glen gave him a What The Fuck look.
Tyler blushed. "Uh, sorry. Um, thing." Tyler pointed to his ears.
Glen rolled his eyes, sighed and stood up. He went over to Tyler, put his arms around him and kissed him soundly.
Glen pulled back from the kiss. He used his firm tone. "This is starting to feel like work. I love you, and I love your surprises, but if we have to do this every time I watch TV..."
Tyler looked contrite and then alarmed. He spoke softly. "You wouldn't ... uh, you wouldn't...?" His voice caught and he looked forlorn. Glen could tell that the stress was getting to him -- he wasn't even sure that Tyler had slept last night. He'd left after their right-before-bed "exercise routine" and Glen hadn't seen him again until breakfast.
