Relics

by K. T. Tomb

  “Which isn’t the case, because he’s trying to draw you into something and he would know that you would draw that conclusion first and quit investigating,” Lana replied.

  “You realize that you’re scaring the hell out of me, right?”

  “Why?”

  “Cause that is the same twisted shit that’s been going through my head. I’m getting a headache.”

  Lana pulled out a tin which had previously held mints, popped the lid open and extended the container with its red and white capsules toward Chyna. “Extra-strength.”

  “Thanks,” Chyna said. She took two of the capsules and downing them with a long swig on a bottle of water. “How about we table this and throw it out there to the rest of the team back at the hotel?”

  “Ah, come on,” Lana teased. “You and I are the brains of this operation.”

  “Yeah, and I’m already fried. Sandra’s gone into Dad’s old files back in New York. He had a collection of French Revolution-era documents, including some of the queen’s own correspondence. I’ve asked her to read through what we have in case there’re any clues in there.”

  “Clues?”

  “Hey, I’m clutching at straws here. Tony said the artifacts hold some metaphysical properties and that’s what this fellow is gathering them for. Maybe something in the papers will clue us in. I’ll get Oscar and Mark started on some research, and then I’m going to close my eyes and just veg until we get back to the suite.”

  Chyna speed dialed Oscar.

  “Yes, your highness?” Oscar said, answering the call.

  Chyna ignored him. She wasn’t in the mood to play. “Can you start putting together a list of active, known thieves and fences for high-end artifacts from about 2012 to present?”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “And I got something else.” Chyna scrambled to get in her next request before he disconnected the call.

  “Talk to me.”

  “Can you get Mark started looking into Antoine Dubois?”

  “Isn’t that the guy…?”

  “Yes, that’s the guy,” Chyna answered, cutting off his question. “We’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”

  “We’re on it,” he replied. He hesitated. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, has Sirita started lunch yet?”

  “She has and it smells great.”

  “Alright. Thanks, cowboy.” She disconnected the call, leaned back into the headrest and closed her eyes.

  Thorin and Demetri escorted Lana and Chyna through a back entrance and onto a private elevator that took them to the floor where their suite was located. As they entered the suite, Chyna was already feeling a little bit better, especially when whatever it was that Sirita was cooking penetrated her nostrils.

  “God, I hope that’s ready,” Chyna commented.

  “It is,” Sirita replied. “I’ll serve lunch and you can tell us what you learned.”

  “Actually, I’m more interested in what Oscar and Mark have learned,” Chyna answered. “Specifically, Mark.”

  “Antoine seems to be very well connected within the French national police as well as Interpol. I haven’t found a connection between him and anything shady up to this point.”

  “Keep digging,” Chyna said. “I know it’s there. If he in tight with Tony, then there is something shady.”

  “It might be helpful for you to tell them why we’re looking at Antoine,” Lana suggested.

  “You’re right,” Chyna responded. “Sorry guys. I’ll get you up to speed. The authentic crown was at the Louvre, but it was stolen in 2014. The Louvre is a little bit strange when it comes to that sort of thing and they like to keep things very quiet. An investigator was assigned to the case and that investigator is none other than Antoine Dubois, whom all of you know is tight with Tony. That throws open a myriad of possibilities that has my head spinning.

  “The important part is to keep our eyes, ears and all other senses open for any place where Tony can pop up and surprise us.”

  “We don’t trust him any more than you do, Chyna,” Mark responded.

  “Good. That mistrust will keep us on our toes. I don’t need to remind you all that we have to assume that we’re grabbing a lion by the beard and only have a club as a weapon. Oscar?”

  As promised, Sirita, with Lana’s help began passing out plates with the lasagna that she had made famous among the group. Chyna dug in and listened to Oscar, who continued to talk even after he started eating, sometimes having to repeat things that hadn’t come out clearly due to trying to speak with his mouth full.

  “But none of this is anything that Interpol doesn’t already have. A lot of it came from them,” Oscar said after he’d finished giving them a list of names during the time frame she’d asked.

  “That’s why I’m suspicious of Antoine’s involvement in this, not to mention his connection with Tony. The puzzling part is that either Tony had no knowledge of Antoine’s connection to it or he did know and he’s playing us. The replica was stolen a few nights ago and returned today by parcel.”

  “So, maybe Tony is on the level?” Sirita asked.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  “I’m just saying, that if he really is undercover and had the crown stolen, for whatever reason, returning it would, sort of, be a way of showing that he’s on the level, right?”

  Though it rubbed her wrong, she had to admit that it was a possibility. “She’s right, but we can’t trust that. If he’s on the level, it will become evident at some point. If he’s not, then we have to stay on our toes and figure out what angle he’s playing.”

  “We can eliminate the thieves on Oscar’s list,” Lana pointed out. “They’re just pawns in the game. The fences are the best link. There are fewer of them and they tend to be easier to track down.”

  “But they usually have their asses well covered,” Chyna added. The fog in her brain was clearing up as they talked it out. “Ass covering would be the perfect job for someone like Antoine.”

  “Fax just in!” Oscar called out. “It’s from Sandra and it looks really old.”

  Chyna grabbed the piece of paper and laughed. “It’s from my dad’s notes, you dimwit! You know, back in the old timey days when people still used pen and paper and wrote in cursive and used phrases like ‘fixin’ to’?”

  “Hey… people still say ‘fixin’ to’!”

  Lana laughed and went to take a look over Chyna’s shoulder at the piece of paper.

  “It’s the personal letters and diary of our girl,” Chyna said.

  “Yup,” Lana confirmed.

  “She found the papers! I guess we’ll be getting anything she thinks might be helpful or insightful. This is just the first piece.”

  Chapter Eight

  Diary of the Queen

  16 May 1770

  I woke up this morning as the Dauphine of France, and my life has changed completely.

  Yesterday, I was the prince’s intended but today as his wife, I am the future queen and apparently, there are schedules which I must now follow and a particular way in which these scheduled activities must be conducted.

  I have gone over the tremendous schedule the Comtesse de Noailles, or Madame Etiquette as I have so named her, has presented to me. If ever there was a picture of ridiculousness, it is both the formal rules of protocol and precedence as well as the encultured rules like table manners which define life at Versailles. My least favorite of which is Grand Couvert; what an immense bore. It seems to me a grand orchestration of a means by which one might never find a way to offend other people. As if once completely controlled by the rules, and controlling oneself, the outcome will be to prevent other people from being disgusted or shocked.

  I wish I could have thrown her list away but it seems that I must learn it before I can do that.

  Marie.

  ***

  After eating their meal in relative silence, the team regrouped around the table to take stock as they usually did in the beginning phas
es of an investigation.

  “Suppose we put together some sort of a sting,” Sirita began. “You know, an innocent looking couple looking for something for their private collection. If they go out and start rattling the cages on some of these fences, then wouldn’t that draw somebody out? Especially, if they were asking for artifacts from the French monarchy or even asking for the crown itself?”

  “She has something there,” Mark commented. “We can narrow down our list to fences that have been known to move such things and cross reference that with cases that Antoine has been involved in. That would help my excavating enormously.”

  “It will also alert Tony to the fact that we’re in the game,” Chyna responded.

  They all stared at her.

  “You’re going to have to explain what you’re thinking,” Oscar suggested. “We Southerners can’t always keep up with you Yankees on everything.”

  “You keep up just fine, Cowboy,” she laughed. “But I’ll explain it anyway. If we’re going to catch Tony and undo whatever it is that he’s into, we have to let him know that we’ve taken his bait and we’re playing his game. It’s sort of like the Roadrunner, stepping in the trap so that he can draw the coyote out to see why the trap didn’t work, right?”

  “Yeah, only, we might get smashed by that huge boulder,” Mark commented in a dry tone.

  “That’s why we’ve got to be alert and covering each other’s backs,” Chyna responded.

  “So, who is going to run the sting?” Lana asked. “Assuming we’re considering doing that.”

  “Chyna can’t,” Mark stated immediately. “She’s a little too high profile, too much of a risk that she’ll be recognized.”

  “It’s Sirita’s idea, let’s let her run with it,” Chyna suggested, turning to smile at her as she spoke.

  “I was just suggesting…” Sirita said, her eyes widening. “I mean, I didn’t intend for it to be me.”

  “It’s perfect, actually, if we’re trying to draw out Antoine,” Lana put in. “She never met Antoine. But who do we team up with her? Both of those two met Antoine or were seen by him.”

  Chyna considered for a moment, looking from Oscar to Mark and then allowing her eyes to continue on around the room until they came to rest on Thorin and Demetri, who were sitting quietly out of the way of the others.

  “Demetri,” Chyna called out. “Come here a minute.”

  Demetri wrinkled his brow and rose up from his seat. Thorin nudged him and smirked, knowing that Demetri was getting volunteered for something and he wasn’t.

  “What you need, boss?”

  “Can you act normal?” Chyna asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Demetri asked, turning to glare at Thorin, who started laughing.

  “I mean, can you not act like a wolf that’s hunting caribou or a bodyguard, but like the husband of this beautiful young lady?”

  Demetri looked at Sirita and turned one corner of his mouth up in a grin and then shrugged. “I think so.”

  Before that moment, Chyna had never seen Sirita turn suddenly shy. Did she have a thing for Demetri? Was she missing something? Had she been missing something for a while or…? Lana interrupted her thought.

  “I like it. They make a good couple and you’ve got some muscle with her in case something goes down.”

  Everyone nodded their agreement except for Demetri and Thorin. Demetri was still a bit confused at what was going on and Thorin was about to wet himself from laughter.

  “We’re going to have to practice with Demetri,” Oscar suggested. “He looks like he’s going to eat somebody.”

  Demetri looked at Oscar, still confused.

  “We’re going to pair muscle with everybody,” Chyna announced.

  “Math doesn’t work, boss,” Oscar pointed out. “Five of us and four big guys.”

  “You weren’t going anyway,” she quipped. “We’re going to keep you on cams and comms.”

  “That’s my specialty,” Oscar beamed.

  “Okay, so, Lana, you work with Demetri and Sirita and see if you can help him tone down his inner wolf and make them look like a normal high society couple. I’m going to work with Chuckles and bring him up to speed on what I want to do.” She started toward Thorin, who had suddenly become serious when he realized that he was the one to whom she was referring. “Oscar and Mark, get our list narrowed down and pick out the half dozen fences that are likely to be involved. We’ll cut that in half again. Let’s break off into groups and concentrate for two hours and then put our heads back together, alright?”

  She led Thorin into the kitchen and started her explanation. She filled him in on Antoine and how she thought he might be involved and then explained how she wanted to have muscle linked with each team member, just to be safe. In reality, she would have rather had Thorin with Sirita, but the match didn’t work like the one between Demetri and Sirita. Besides, she was a primary target and she wanted her best man watching her back.

  “Are we all going to have to act like Demetri?” he asked. “’Cause those other two guys are even worse than he is.”

  “No, everyone else will be tailing, watching from the perimeter and staying in contact with Oscar while he coordinates communication.”

  “Sounds like a pretty tight plan,” Thorin replied. “You think this will draw Tony out?”

  “No. If he’s up to something, I think he’ll play it later, but we might draw out Antoine and who knows what sort of backup he’ll have. He’s connected with the French National Police and Interpol, so he has resources to bring to the party. That’s why we have to be damned tight with our security and communications.”

  “Gotcha,” Thorin replied. “I’ll get my guys ready.”

  “I’m counting on that,” Chyna grinned.

  “Except Demetri,” he chuckled, nodding in the direction of Demetri, who was being taken through the wringer by Lana and Sirita. “Looks like they’re working him over pretty good.”

  “He’ll be ready for the cover of GQ by the time they’re done with him,” Chyna laughed.

  Several hours later, Demetri had improved dramatically. By the time the tailor that Chyna had called to measure him for a tailored suit, Lana and Sirita had been able to take most of the wolfishness out of the way he walked, stood and looked around the room.

  “I sure hope this works,” Lana whispered to her.

  “It’ll work,” Chyna answered with more confidence than she felt.

  Chapter Nine

  “With an almanac and a watch, you could be three hundred leagues from here and say, with immense accuracy, exactly what those at Versailles were doing.” —The Duke of Saint-Simon.

  “There is a person here who says that he has a delivery for you, Your Grace,” Luka announced in his deep voice after knocking and being summoned to enter Louis’ office.

  It had taken some time to get it to stick, but Luka had finally caught onto addressing Louis by at least one of the proper forms that he had commanded of those who worked with him or followed him. He was, after all, Louis XX and not some commoner.

  “Tell him to wait. I will be there in a moment,” Louis responded in an impatient tone.

  “Your Grace, I’m not sure that he can wait much longer,” Luka answered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s not all there.”

  “Is part of him missing? An arm or a leg has suddenly vanished?” Louis asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

  “He appears to be going insane, Your Grace,” Luka answered.

  Louis rose from the chair behind his desk and went to the door. “Insane?” he asked as he followed Luka down the private hallway to the reception area.

  Pushing the door into the reception area open, Louis was instantly aware of the delivery man’s insanity, if not by the fact that he was standing in one of the chairs and dancing, but by the look of horror on the face of Marija, his receptionist.

  “I must insist that you get down from there this instant!” Louis ordered.<
br />
  “Are you Louis Charles Bourbon?” the man asked. His expression and the formation of the words made it obvious that he was operating well outside a very limited mental capacity.

  “I am,” Louis replied.

  “Here,” the man said, extending a package toward him. “This is for you.”

  Louis drew back from the package. Though he had not been warned about it, he was suddenly aware that the legend concerning the Rosary of Isabella was, indeed, true. Though it was a powerful talisman for foretelling the future and imparting wisdom to Isabella and any other person of her bloodline, it turned anyone who wasn’t of her bloodline insane from handling it.

  “Luka,” he ordered. “Escort this man to the vault so that he can place the package inside. Be careful not to handle the package.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace,” Luka replied, moving forward to pull the delivery man down from the chair.

  Louis turned to go back to his office.

  “You have to sign for the package,” the delivery man called out to him.

  “Sign for the package,” Louis ordered, motioning toward Marija. He turned away, stopped and turned back to Luka, wrinkled his face as though there was a foul odor in the room. “And dispose of this… this creature.”

  “It will be done, Your Grace.”

  “Carry on, then.”

  He would need to bring up the subject of the Rosary during his next conversation with the man who had only identified himself as the Seer. The Seer had given him no warning about the dangerous properties of the Rosary. Had Louis not been aware of some of the legends surrounding the handling of it, he might have fallen victim to an unfortunate situation. The Seer’s negligence was either an indication of his inadequacy or it was a deliberate attempt to undermine him. Likely, it was the first, but he would need to be prepared for the possibility of the latter.

  The Seer had agreed to deliver the last two items personally, a part of the deal that served two purposes for Louis. It allowed him to make certain that the last two items were authentic and it gave him the opportunity to eliminate the only person who could connect him to the theft; not that it would really make any difference. When the Solstice arrived, his power would be consolidated in such a way that no one could harm him anyway. With that consolidation of power, he could command the Army of Reckoning with complete impunity and incontestable authority.