The Guardian's Legacy

by Luciana Cavallaro

  ‘Loose ends, huh?’ Nik folded his arms across his chest. ‘I hope the two police officers and their buddies didn’t get bored following me around Marseilles.’

  Detective Sauveterre's eyes widened for an instant and then narrowed. She had confirmed his suspicion.

  'Why were they tailing me?’ He settled into the oversized, plush armchair and stared up at her, waiting for an answer.

  ‘I expected you would go to the last store your grandfather stopped at,’ she said as she sat down opposite him.

  ‘And you thought I may lead you to an accomplice or learn whether I’m involved in this neo-Nazi movement.’ He snorted.

  She shrugged. ‘I needed to be certain.’

  ‘Are you? Have I passed your test?’

  ‘You must understand, Monsieur, we are in the middle of a war against terrorism, and my duty is to ensure the people in this city and country are safe from these radicals. I do not have the luxury to ignore potential acts of terror.’ She shifted forward and straightened on the edge of her chair. ‘Your grandfather attended establishments that support extremists. Why?’

  Nik did not reply straightaway but kept his focus on her austere face. ‘He is a man of many interests and enjoys browsing curios.’

  ‘Bah!’ She flung a hand in the air. ‘Quelle bêtise! Nonsense! You are lying.’

  A rush of anger filled Nik. ‘As are you. This entire investigation into the disappearance of my grandfather is a farce.’

  The detective shook her head, her blonde locks moving from side to side with vigour. ‘Not so, we are trying to find him. He can resolve many questions.’ She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair. ‘Why did your grandfather go to those antiquities shops?’

  ‘The actual reason?’ he asked, tilting his head to the side.

  ‘Oui, I want the truth,’ she replied. The detective’s face displayed a neutral expression.

  ‘He was seeking an object and information.’

  ‘An object and information?’ she repeated her eyes bored into his. ‘Such as?’

  Nik regarded the attractive woman who sat before him in silence, frustrated and tired, but above all fearing for the life and wellbeing of his grandfather. And here he was sitting in the hotel's foyer, being questioned by a sceptical detective, albeit a beautiful woman. He answered her question in a clipped tone. ‘An old coin.’

  ‘What makes the coin so important?’

  ‘It’s part of our family’s heritage.’

  ‘Your answer does not explain why your grandfather went to those specific stores.’

  ‘As I mentioned, my grandfather was seeking information about a rare coin.’

  The detective crossed her legs and regarded him. He sat in silence, refusing to be the first to look away or concede defeat.

  ‘That is the first reasonable response I’ve heard since I’ve taken the case,’ she said, breaking the quiet standoff. ‘Mind, that is not the entire story. You are hiding something.’

  ‘Nope, that is why he went to the antiquities shops.’ Nik brushed unseen lint from his jeans. ‘To learn more about the coin’s history and where it came from.’

  ‘How old is this coin your grandfather is seeking?’

  ‘Ancient. It dates back to when the Greeks first minted coins.’

  ‘I did not know the Greeks invented coins.’

  ‘Now you do.’ He moved to stand up. ‘Now if that is all?’

  Detective Sauveterre glanced at her watch. ‘For now. I will be in touch, Monsieur.’ She stood and held out her hand.

  Nik got to his feet, shook her hand and felt a jolt. His lips parted and his hand tingled when she let go. She said an abrupt goodbye and left before he could respond. He rubbed his hand on his thigh, the touch of her hand still lingered on his. Preoccupied, he sidestepped the table and chairs and headed for the elevator.

  ‘Monsieur Zosimos! Monsieur Zosimos!’

  The calling of his name penetrated Nik’s bemused mind. He turned and saw the concierge waving at him.

  ‘Oui, Mademoiselle?’ he said as he approached the desk.

  ‘This envelope came for you.’ She handed him a cream envelope.

  ‘Merci.’ The paper was thick, the grain rippled.

  In his room, Nik set his backpack on the chair at the desk and sat on the bed. Apart from his name written in neat cursive handwriting on the front, there was nothing to suggest from whom or where the note came.

  He ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter. A smaller piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Nik reached down, flipped it over, and sucked in his breath. It was a picture of his grandfather, hands bound and mouth gagged with a strip of black cloth. His hair was dishevelled, but his eyes told another story. He looked angry. At the bottom of the photo, in the same handwriting as on the envelope, was today’s date.

  Nik closed his eyes for a moment and his heart thumped hard against his rib cage. He unfolded the letter and read the immaculate script. When he finished, he read it again and set the letter on the bed beside him. The thin, black, scripted words, their threatening message veiled by careful choice of prose, coiled around his chest and squeezed the air in his lungs. He stood, the photo slipped unseen under the bed. Nik picked up the phone and dialled reception.

  ‘Could you please arrange for a taxi to pick me up, and call when it arrives?’ He paused as the concierge acknowledged his request. ‘Merci.’ His eyes flickered back to the note. The sentences taunted him, as the folded paper threatened to close.

  * * *

  Pan Zosimos,

  If you wish for no harm to befall your grandfather, come to the Musee Rodin and to Garden of Orpheus within the hour.

  Do not engage with the police or Interpol, unless you prefer to have parts of your beloved grandfather severed one by one.

  Konrad Resnik

  * * *

  Nik clenched his hands. His blood stirred deep, with the veins in his arms swelling into blue, thick cords. He keyed in the code to the safe and withdrew the knife, strapped it to his leg and straightened his jeans to conceal it. He took the SIG Sauer from its holster, ejected the magazine cartridge to check the chamber was filled with bullets and made sure he loaded an extra one into the chamber. He looked to see the safety lock was on and slid the magazine back in. He loaded a spare magazine and slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket. With the pistol holstered and spare ammo in his backpack, Nik shrugged on his blazer and checked the mirror to make sure the weapon was not visible.

  He reread the contents of the note, folded it and shoved it into his pocket. He left the suite, the door shut behind him with a resounding click.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nik got into the waiting taxi, gave the driver his instructions and sat back, his fingers tapping on the armrest of the door. Twenty-five minutes later the taxi pulled up outside the Musee Rodin. He paid the driver and approached the ticketing booth to purchase a pass.

  The loose cream stones of the path crunched underfoot as he hastened through the manicured gardens. Around him the wide paths were well maintained, the lawns mowed with precision, the flowers, trees and shrubs tended with love and care. Visitors to the garden spread across the large parkland, their presence almost imperceptible. As he moved deeper into the verdant grounds, the dull murmur of voices was almost swallowed by the flora.

  The museum opened on Wednesday nights, and at dusk the fairy lights sparkled, creating an air of enchantment. Nik strode past the twinkling lights without a second thought, as he moved beyond the marquee to enter the Garden of Orpheus, where he gave the bronze plaque of the Gates of Hell a cursory glance. Here he stopped and looked around, conscious of the weight of the pistol against his rib cage, an alien feeling yet reassuring at the same time. He heard footfalls and turned to see the blond, tall, well-built man who had threatened him in his hotel room, followed by an older, emaciated man, emerge from the rear of a conical-shaped topiary. The older man’s face was angular with hollowed cheeks that made his features eve
n more pronounced.

  ‘Pán Zosimos, I am pleased you are here.’ Smiled the older man, his voice a low rasp.

  ‘I had little choice, Mr Resnik,’ said Nik, his tone defiant and clipped. ‘Where’s my grandfather?’

  Resnik looked him up and down. ‘He is in a safe location. For now.’

  ‘You mean he’s being held captive by your goons.’ Nik’s lip curled. ‘If you hurt him, I will tell the law enforcement what you are doing.’ From the corner of his eye, he watched as the blond enforcer slipped away and disappeared behind the hedges.

  Konrad Resnik clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged. ‘I have acquaintances in the police force, friends in command.’ He waved at the space behind him. ‘Imrich told me you know nothing about the coin your grandfather owns, but I believe you lied to him.’

  Nik stiffened. ‘Mr Resnik, would I have come here to meet you if I knew something at all? I came to get my grandfather back.’

  While travelling in the taxi, Nik had done a bit of research on his phone. Konrad Resnik was a rich and powerful Slovakian industrialist who built on his family’s vast fortunes. His name appeared on many of the searches, but there were no photos of him. He was a notable philanthropist, and many websites listed his contributions to various organisations and foundations.

  ‘Well, what a lovely surprise,’ announced Resnik in an amused tone, his attention flicking behind Nik. ‘Detective Sauveterre, I am so pleased you could join us.’

  Nik stared at her, open-mouthed, and then clamped it shut. His eyes narrowed and turned back to Resnik. ‘Let her go, she has nothing to do with this.’

  ‘To her misfortune, she does now,’ said Resnik. ‘The detective must believe you are a suspect and followed you here. Am I correct?’ he directed the question at her.

  Sauveterre yanked her arm from the clutches of Imrich with a scowl. ‘Oui, I tailed Monsieur Zosimos here.’

  Resnik clapped his hands and chuckled. ‘Why is that?’

  Nik glared at the detective, who replied, ‘I wanted to see where he was going.’

  ‘No, no, no, that is not why.’ Resnik wagged a finger at her.

  She pursed her lips. ‘Fine! I wanted to find out if he was telling the truth on whether he knew where his grandfather had gone.’

  Nik shook his head at her.

  ‘And now, what are your conclusions?’

  She hesitated. ‘It appears Monsieur Zosimos knows nothing regarding his grandfather’s disappearance.’ She pointed at Resnik. ‘Pán Resnik, you and your companion are under arrest for unlawful kidnapping.’ She reached behind her back and unclipped the handcuffs from her belt and a walkie-talkie. She depressed a button to speak. Imrich lunged for the two-way radio.

  Nik pushed Resnik, who stumbled sideways and smashed into Imrich with his shoulder. Nik grabbed the detective’s hand as the two men tumbled onto the lawn.

  ‘Run!’ he shouted and hauled her along with him.

  ‘Arrêtez! Stop! I must apprehend those men!’

  Nik tightened his grip on her hand and kept running, dragging her with him. ‘Are you kidding? Do you think Resnik will let you live? He doesn’t care if you’re a cop.’ He glanced over his shoulder at her and then behind her. ‘Move it!’

  Imrich was chasing them, and Nik could see the gun in his hand.

  ‘I am the police! I must stop him!’ the detective exclaimed as he pulled her towards the entrance of the museum.

  ‘This man will kill you and won’t hesitate in coercing me to giving Resnik what he wants. The only way I can save my grandfather is to remain free. Either come with me and live, or you can try to make an arrest and die.’

  ‘You won’t be leaving!’ The detective tore her hand out of his. Nik came to an abrupt halt. ‘You are a witness and pivotal to the investigation.’

  He backed away. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t.’ He dashed into the thick cypress hedges, the shadows hiding him from view. He slowed when he heard her swear and a male voice shout, ‘Drop your gun.’

  Nik edged his way back and peered through the hedge, but it was too thick to see through.

  ‘You have made a grave mistake at drawing a weapon on a police officer,’ he heard the detective say. ‘I will see you in gaol for the rest of your life, not to mention charges for kidnapping and threatening another person.’

  ‘It is unfortunate you have stumbled into an old dispute.’ Nik rushed out from the hedge and tackled Imrich, a head shoulder bump. The detective fired her gun. Imrich crumpled to the ground.

  Nik kicked the firearm away from Imrich’s hand and planted his foot on his uninjured arm. ‘Best you handcuff him now,’ he urged.

  The detective hesitated a moment too long. The Slovak twisted on the ground, unbalancing Nik, and reached for his gun. Nik stomped on his hand. Imrich howled, wrenching his hand from under Nik’s foot and reached for the gun with his other hand. A shot rang out.

  Nik stared down at the dead Slovak. A trickle of blood dribbled from his forehead, his eyes frozen wide open. The detective grabbed her walkie-talkie.

  ‘Detective Sauvterre, are you okay?’ a voice crackled over the speaker.

  ‘Oui, we need an ambulance.’ The detective kicked the gun out of reach. ‘Has the Australian left the gardens?’

  Nik blinked at her.

  ‘Non, I haven’t seen him come out.’

  ‘When he leaves, follow and apprehend him!’

  ‘Bon.’

  Nik spun on his heel and ran, weaving in and out of the hedges.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nik landed back in the hotel room, hitting the bed and bouncing up and down on the mattress. He lay still, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass and wondering how many spatial leaps it would take for the side-effects to subside. He rolled onto his side with a groan, sat up and clasped his head in his hands, the coin still clutched in his right hand. When the pain subsided, he dropped the coin back into his wallet and slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans.

  He needed to pack and find an alternative place to stay. Nik opened the chest drawers and began pulling his clothes out and throwing them on the bed and emptying the wardrobe. He shoved his clothes into his suitcase, went into the bathroom for his toiletry kit and threw it onto top of his clothes, and turned his attention to the safe. He removed his passport, airline tickets, the extra ammunition and rammed them into his backpack along with his laptop and camera. He threw the backpack over his shoulder and grabbed his suitcase. As he exited the room, Nik rang a number.

  ‘Sebastien, it’s Nikolaos Zosimos, you brought me to the Hilton Hotel a few days ago. Can you pick me up near the Gare St Lazare station in five minutes?’ He paused. ‘Merci, I’ll see you there.’

  He entered the lift, took the coin from his wallet and tossed it into the air.

  Dear Reader

  If you enjoyed reading The Guardian’s Legacy, we’d love to hear from you. Honest reviews Smashwords are always appreciated.

  Thank you.

  Luciana

  Glossary of foreign words

  About the Author

  Luciana Cavallaro, genre-bending fiction author, is the multi award-winning author of The Labyrinthine Journey. She has been nominated for book awards in the action/adventure and historical fiction genres, and proud of her ambitious attempt at driving her first car at the age of three. (Just between us, this was when she gave her father high blood pressure … and the beginning of her adventures). Visit her website at www.luccav.com

  Also by Luciana Cavallaro

  Accursed Women (Click on cover to purchase a copy)

  Search for the Golden Serpent | Book 1 Servant of the Gods (Click on cover to purchase a copy)

  The Labyrinthine Journey | Book 2 Servant of the Gods (Click on cover to purchase a copy)

  For more information, visit our website.

  Be sure to sign up to our e-newsletter to keep up to date with our latest releases, news and upcoming events.

  r />   Luciana Cavallaro, The Guardian's Legacy