by C L Bauer
“May we talk a little? I have those files for you to take back to the United States. I also want to show you some of the footage from the other night, of Khalid.”
“Fine. We have a little time, but I promised Lily lunch and one more look at her new love, the tower. Then we have a flight out.” He looked over at his wife. “Will you be fine here?”
“Sure. The bowl and I are old friends. Go do your job.” Surprisingly, he mouthed the words I love you before heading off with Claude. Lily was alone with the bowl, state of the art security, and two armed guards. Alone was a state of mind.
The bowl was intriguing. Dev had explained to her on the way over Khalid’s infatuation with the artifact. The terrorist was a descendant of one of the houses of the ottoman empire and the original sultan who created the bowl. It had been a wedding present for a bride. They had three sons together before his dear wife became disenchanted with him. She’d fallen in love with an infidel who had come in search of the empire’s beloved tulip bulbs. It had been a long story, but Khalid had come down from the line of one of those sons. The wife had been killed, beheaded, along with her lover. But the bowl was smuggled out by the infidel’s brother. The family had searched through the ages to get it back. Khalid had supposedly picked the gala as a grand gesture of redemption and reclamation. He’d failed, again.
Lily studied the color, the intricacies. If she’d seen it in a thrift store, she would’ve just walked on by, but here in the museum, in a place of honor, it almost glowed with majesty and power. The bloom itself was beginning to fade, but the leaves remained vibrant.
Wait a minute, there’s not two leaves. And where’s the little bud? Lily walked carefully around one guard, smiled and examined the bowl from another side. Perhaps they had displayed it differently? Maybe they had removed it from the display to a more secure location and had set it facing in a different direction?
She saw the next side. Just one leaf, just a bloom. She walked over to the next side. There was a bloom, a bud and a stem. Finally, she made her way to the very last side of the guarded area. There was a bloom, a bud and only one small leaf.
“Mon Dieu,” Lily whispered. One guard turned his head to casually glance at her. She was cursing in French! No, no, no, Lily, you have to be incorrect. This little discovery could make us miss our plane. As much as I’d love to stay in Paris, I’m getting sick of this spy stuff. Dev is right. Bring on the simple drug dealers.
To ease her conscience, she walked around another time. She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and began to take notes of the details. She drew each side with the notation. Even the gold around the rim was not as bright. Sadly, this wasn’t the same bowl she saw last night, and that had been before any liquor. Wait, she hadn’t had anything to drink for a few days now. Her taste buds were just off.
“Somehow I just knew you’d be here.”
No, not more spies. She turned to see the handsome face of her new Israeli/Arab friend. “Hello, Ari.”
“Madame Pierce. We must stop meeting like this or your husband will become suspicious. We will have to plot another place for our rendezvous in the future.” He smiled, and she almost melted. He was wearing a black turtleneck with a grey leather jacket. He was casual in jeans and what looked to be boots of some kind.
“Ah, but will there be a future?” She shoved her pen and paper into the purse and held onto the shoulder straps to keep her hands from shaking. She wasn’t sure if the nervousness was from her discovery or this dangerous man. Her husband was dangerous, but he was comfortable; this man was dangerous and dangerous.
“Are you saying goodbye to our old friend?”
Lily stepped away from the exhibit and over to Ari. “You could say that. Dev is in with Claude, something about everything.”
Ari held his head down briefly as if in embarrassment. “Yes,” he answered as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “That was a mess.”
“Apparently, it still is. I’m assuming you didn’t catch your prey last night.”
“No, we did not, but we protected this lovely bowl. No Khalid, but we have pottery. That wasn’t a very good trade.”
Lily bit her lip. This was way above anything she had ever done or experienced in her life. She had a dilemma that no one had ever prepared her for. Not one teacher, nun, priest, nor her mom and dad had ever taught or warned her about terrorists, super agents, FBI agents, DEA husbands, art thieves, and the occasional drug dealer or smuggler. What should she do?
Ari made the move. He’d noticed her shaking hands, her step back from his step forward. She could be cold. The snow had been unexpected last night and seemed to remove any warmth Paris had with its blanket of white. Lily was still not permitting him in her personal space, although last night they’d become friends over food and conversation. “Lily, what is wrong? What do you know that I don’t?”
Lily shifted her weight from one foot to another. She needed to decide right now what would be the better good? “You failed on both counts.”
Ari blinked twice. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t catch your terrorist, and you didn’t protect the tulip bowl.”
Now his eyes widened in disbelief. “You are mistaken about the bowl. It is setting right there.” He pointed defiantly toward the secured item.
“No, I’m not.” Her resolute statement shook him.
“Lily, this isn’t a game or the newest Tom Cruise movie. What are you talking about?” Ari’s demeanor turned deadly serious. Now, he was danger personified.
She pulled her notes and sketches out of her bag and handed it to him slowly. “I keep track of little details. That talent makes me a good wedding florist. We make sure our clients get what they ordered. I remembered last night the leaves on the bowl, the bloom and the small bud. The design isn’t the same. Someone has switched the bowl. Either the one last night wasn’t authentic, or this one is a fake.”
Ari studied her drawing then stepped closer to the artifact. He began to walk slowly around the exhibit, studying her drawings and comparing it to the bowl. He pulled out his phone and pulled up a photo. He looked up at Lily and then back down to his phone. As he came around to the final side to join Mrs. Pierce, he looked again at his phone and back to the bowl. “Shit.”
His profanity was loud enough it echoed slightly and both guards turned to face him.
“I’m beginning to curse in French. You do it in English?” Lily smiled slightly.
He was shaking the paper at her. “You little minx. Why do you have to be so observant?”
Lily was feeling threatened. Perhaps Ari wasn’t a good guy? She began to back away as he came closer, but soon ran into a solid structure, her husband.
“Ari, what is your problem?” Dev moved in front of Lily immediately.
“This, her.” His frustration was palpable.
Ari waved the paper in Dev’s face as he came forward. He stuffed it into his hand.
“What am I looking at?” Dev saw the notes, the drawings as he unfolded the paper and understood immediately. “He did steal the bowl?”
Ari swept his hand through his hair. “We need to hire Lily. She sees everything, everything we do not see. How on earth did he do this?”
Dev pulled Lily around to his side. He held her close with one arm. “You are good, honey. Any ideas?”
Lily laughed nervously. “You are kidding, right?”
“Nope. Any ideas?”
“Show me the real bowl photo,” Lily requested, pointing at Ari’s phone.
He happily handed over the phone as if to relinquish control. “This is the real thing. This photo was from when it was authenticated in Turkey two years ago. That’s the same bowl we saw right there last night.” He pointed back at the exhibit.
“Then this isn’t the real bowl. This is the fake.” Lily handed back his phone.
“Give the woman a prize.” Jackson Pierce’s voice did echo. Both guards straightened up in surprise.
“Good morni
ng, brother. Here to see us off?” Dev shook his brother’s hand as he joined the group.
“No, but I’m happy to see you both before you leave. I’m here because I viewed the footage from the cameras outside and inside the museum last night and this morning. By the way,” Jackson lightly touched his brother’s shoulder, “great move out the side exit.”
Dev smiled, Lily blushed.
“Imagine my surprise to see some movement around three in the morning. We had cleaners coming in to remove the columns, the flowers, anything with drugs. They were to take them to a secure location that INTERPOL set up through the French police. Flowers and columns were removed. Hell, everything was removed. Apparently, not one guard was overseeing the CCTV within the museum, because well, maybe they were paid off, or maybe because they all looked just like INTERPOL security. I’ve just returned from the secure location, and the storage area is empty. We ran facial recognition on the group and found several most-wanted international burglars and a couple of terrorists.
“Let me guess, Khalid was one of them,” Ari suggested. His voice was controlled. He shook his head in disgust. “This museum is one of the world’s most secure locations. The man walks right through the front door with an invitation and then he sneaks back in later to steal an artifact.”
“What are you talking about?” Jackson was stunned.
“Your new sister-in-law has realized that this bowl,” Ari stopped to point at the fake, “is not the real thing.”
“No. I didn’t see that on the film.”
“All they had to do was slide it into one of the urns with the flowers, or even in one of the columns. They could’ve cushioned it with the drug packets.” Lily had explained it all like a professional.
Jackson looked at Lily and blinked twice. He ran his hand through his hair, and Lily smiled. Hmm, it is a family trait! “Dev, where did you find her?”
The proud husband brought his arms around his wife. “I just walked into her shop one day.”
“We’ve lost everything.” Jackson began to walk and mutter.
“Not exactly everything,” Dev whispered to his wife.
“What? What did you say?” Jackson came closer to the couple.
“There’s drugs in some of the paintings and frames that Claude received from Bernard. You’ll have to test everything, but you might be able to track those items back to some heavy hitters in the international drug trade. I just looked at one frame and smelled meth, you know that ammonia kind of smell? I wouldn’t doubt it if you could trace fentanyl back to the Chinese. They put that stuff into everything when shipping into the country. One of my team found it in a guy’s underwear once. They may have it in the paint.”
Lily patted her husband’s face. “You are so smart.”
“I’m more concerned about the idiot with it in his underwear,” Ari added, finally a smile coming to his face.
“Thanks, brother.” Jackson handed a memory stick to his brother. “You’ll need this when you get back to D.C. By the way, Henri was seen on the video. He let them in. He checked into the Louvre before the gala and then never left. We had security searching for him while the gala was still going on, but he had a great hiding place--he apparently hid in an unopened packing crate for a future exhibition. He’s in the wind now. As for the security team, we found three dead a few blocks from here and three more tied up at the storage facility. Another six INTERPOL agents were massacred within the facility. The trucks that were used were abandoned near George Pompidou Centre. They are currently checking all their art.”
“The French government won’t be happy with two museums closed today,” Ari said softly.
“No one is happy,” Jackson admitted. “We have diamond contacts being rounded up. Claude will be debriefed. She had been working with INTERPOL, but they didn’t authorize all of her antics. The Swiss are working with us to open Notte’s accounts. We will know more, but it will take months, if not years, to unravel this mess.”
Ari and Dev looked up to the very ornate ceiling. “Not only did he get away with an item he has been obsessing over for years, he also managed to ship drugs into Europe without any ramifications. He’s gotten away with everything.” Dev was incredulous. “Obviously, others are involved.”
“A lot of payoffs went into this operation. All the guards here at the museum will be questioned.” Jackson looked over to Lily. “Your Mr. Bernard Notte was just the tip of the iceberg. He double-crossed everyone and racked up a small fortune. I’ve already found a few items we’ve been looking for in Brussels. I’m headed there today.”
“What about Remy?” Dev questioned.
Jackson shrugged. “He’s dead.”
Ari, Lily and Dev shouted, “What?”
“Remy was poisoned”
“Khalid did it,” Lily announced. “I knew it.” She punched Dev’s shoulder. “Khalid walked by and touched him on the shoulder blade. I saw Remy wince. I just knew he had done something. It was probably some sort of contact poison like what the Russians did to that poor man in England.” Jessica Fletcher would be so proud of me right now.
All three men looked at the florist from Kansas City. They were spellbound by her deduction and her blandness. But Dev winked.
“That’s my wife.”
Jackson shook his head. “I’ll have them check that area of his body, but you are probably right. Khalid likes to get rid of any loose-ends. He’ll probably go after Notte when he can. By the way, I checked the video outside the café the night of his shooting. Dev, you were right. Apparently, Khalid needed to shut him up before he talked to Ari or myself again.”
“Now that everything is solved and nothing is settled, my wife and I are going for one more meal in Paris. Then we have a flight to catch,” Dev announced. “I’ll leave the super spy stuff to you two gentlemen.”
Dev hugged his brother and mentioned something about Christmas. He looked toward Ari and nodded.
Ari took a few steps to Lily. “It was an honor, madame.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. “Perhaps we will meet again.”
Lily looked at his impish face as he lifted his eyes. He was smiling. He took a glance at Dev, knowing full well that the man was glaring at him. “I love making him squirm, don’t you, Lily?”
Lily giggled. Giggling, really Lily? “I do. It makes him more human.”
“Less a boy scout?”
Lily bent her head to his and whispered, “Yep.”
Ari stood straight and released her hand. “Devlin, always a pleasure.”
“Sure.” Dev placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders and ushered her away. “We are leaving now, wife.”
As they walked away, Lily turned back. “It was nice meeting you, Jackson. I guess we’re in a hurry. Ari, we will always have the buffet.” Dev was rushing her out of the museum. “Honey, do we have time for me to go downstairs to the shops?”
“Nope. We are in a hurry to get out of here before you find some drugs, solve a murder, find a long-lost artifact, make new friends with an undercover Mossad agent--”
Lily continued to giggle. Dev was still listing various scenarios of sleuthing. It was definitely time to go home.
Jackson and Ari watched in amusement as Dev Pierce pulled his wife out of the museum.
“I’ve never seen him happier,” Ari commented.
“I know, right? I would never have picked Lily for him, but she’s perfect. She’s challenging.”
“She’s fun. He needs some fun in his life after all he has been through.”
Jackson nodded. “We’ve all been through a lot over the years.”
The two men began to walk toward Claude’s office. Ari stopped Jackson midway down the hallway. “I need to thank you for your generosity two years ago.”
Jackson nodded knowingly. “No need. You saved my brother once or twice.”
“But this was my little sister, the baby of our family. I’ve raised her since our parents passed away. She was being a teenager at a concer
t in Paris when those terrorists attacked. And you saved her.”
“I happened to be in the right place at the right time, that’s all.”
Ari shook his head. “No, you saved her. I knew you were in Paris. I called you, and you found her. It was heroic.”
“Aw shucks. She’s really sweet, nothing like you.” Jackson smiled.
Ari patted him on the back solidly. “That’s the last time I give you credit for anything. I think I like Dev better.”
“Really, the boy scout? You loathe him.”
“I loathe him less than I loathe you.”
Jackson began to walk toward Claude’s open door. “That’s not possible. You have no command of the English language.”
“Do too.”
“Do not,” Jackson answered.
“Brussels?” Ari questioned.
“Yes.”
“Maybe I’ll join you.”
“That’s not necessary.” Jackson scowled.
“Actually, it is. I’m tracking down a painting that was last seen in Bruge. It is a piece of stolen Nazi art.”
Jackson’s interest was piqued. “Is the family still around?”
“A granddaughter. She lives in Tel Aviv. She likes me.”
“Of course she does,” Jackson murmured. “Hopefully, I won’t run into you.”
“I thought you might take me on the flight.” Ari flashed a smile.
“You thought wrong, Ari.”
The quibbling, as if they were brothers of some variation, continued as they both attempted to enter Claude’s doorway at the same time. The suave, dangerous agents were stuck like Laurel and Hardy.
“Let me go in,” Jackson demanded.
“No, you let me go in.”
“Just move your arm.” Jackson shoved to the right.
“You just punched me.” Ari shoved to the left. “Americans.”
“Really? You want to go there? How many times have we saved the French, the English, the Israelis, the Saudis? Do I need to go on?”
