Page 54 of A Noble Affair
“Oh, no,” his rival fired back. “I’ll never see the painting, the money, or you again. We’re going to do this correctly, and it’s not going to be tonight.”
“What do you mean it’s not going to be tonight?”
“Even if we avoid the motion detectors, which I know how to do—figured it out before I started hanging out here at night—the sound of even the most quiet explosive will set off the sensory alarms. The viscount doesn’t take any chances.”
Jean sighed, now looking at his opponent with more respect. “So what do you propose?”
“We wait until the spring ball, which will be held in the château next Saturday night. The alarm system will be shut down, and although I heard the chief of staff talking about heavy security, they won’t waste it down here. No one will look twice at me being here. They’ve already asked me to be on hand to direct people for the fireworks display.”
“Fireworks,” Jean repeated, alert.
“And that is when you’ll set off the explosives. This way, you have time to prepare my payment, and I can either facilitate your escape or hinder it, depending on whether you have the money or not.”
Jean rolled his eyes. “I can’t get your share until I get mine. And I won’t be coming here with a suitcase full of cash.”
André, who until this point had been in full control of the situation, was now at a loss. “You can’t put it in my bank account or they’ll wonder how it got there.” He started to stammer. “I...I’m going to have to find out where you live so I can get the money afterwards. That’s the only reason I’m doing this. I don’t want to get mixed up in anything complicated. I’m an honest guy, you know.”
“Yeah, me too,” muttered Jean. He wanted a cigarette, but didn’t dare light one. Now he began to assess his self-appointed partner more shrewdly. The guy could prove to be a greater liability than he had previously thought if he couldn’t keep his cool. He could ruin everything.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” André said, blinking rapidly. “I’ll help you get in and out. But when you go, I’m coming with you. And I want to keep the key to the gate until then.”
Jean thought for a minute, rubbing his chin, and then came to a decision. “Sure. That’s fine. We can do it that way. But then you’ll need to build the wall back up after I step over it tonight, and close the gate for me since you have the key. It’s better if you’re familiar with the tunnel anyway. Come on.”
“You’re lucky you have me for this, you know,” his partner said, the rush of danger infusing his voice with nervous gaiety. “You would never have been able to pull it off yourself.” André shook his head and gave a shaky laugh. He led the way past the gate into the dark tunnel, when suddenly he stopped short. “But why would I need to rebuild the wall after you when you can do it yourself? I just need to lock the gate—”
His reflection was too late. Jean had slipped the crowbar out of his belt loop and into his hand, and he brought it down hard. André slithered to the floor without a sound, and Jean dragged him to the room.I knew there was a reason I came in here, he thought, exultantly, although he was shaking. Closing the door behind him, he switched on the flashlight and searched for the piece of burlap he had seen earlier. He wadded this into a ball to form a makeshift silencer and finished the job. Then he stood, shaking and sweating, before doubling over and emptying the contents of his stomach.
Determined, Jean wiped his mouth and left the room. He took one last glimpse into the basement as he closed the gate then turned back to the wall he would have to rebuild after he climbed through. He had been hoping this would be the last time he would have to see that wall, but it was not to be.
I may not have been able to do this without you, he thought grimly.But now you’ve told me everything I needed to know.
26
Louis knocked on his father’s bedroom door and entered when his dad called out. His father, in shirtsleeves, with the elegant suit jacket draped over the chair, was in the process of tying his wide cravat. He lifted his chin and glanced at his son in the mirror. “Very nice. You did a great job on your tie.”
“Paltier,” was the only answer afforded by his son.
“Ah.” Charles smiled. “You’ll learn soon enough.” When he was content with his appearance, he turned around. “What is it, Louis?”
Louis frowned. “I heard the staff talking about how that gardener, André Robin, disappeared?”
“Yes, that’s right. Thierry told me about it as soon as I got back Wednesday.” Charles didn’t add that he was perturbed that history should repeat itself, and that a gardener could disappear right around the time another ball was planned at the château. “Don’t worry about it, okay? He probably just took off, and we already have someone to take his place for the fireworks.”
Louis didn’t budge and Charles, sensing that he had more to disclose, waited patiently. “I haven’t told you everything about the drugs, Papa,” Louis said, presently.
Charles’s breath caught and after a split second, said, “Have a seat,mon fils.” He took one of the two hardback armchairs in his bedroom that faced a small round coffee table.
Louis wasn’t even seated before he began in faltering speech. “I told you I had been using pretty heavily, and that I had finally told the dealer I didn’t want to do that anymore. I was going to stop.” His father nodded. “I didn’t tell you that I had gotten into dealing drugs. The man I was meeting with—Jean—it’s the only name I know. Anyway, this guy convinced me to become a seller in the school so I could get my drugs almost free. He said it would make the other kids respect me.” Louis buried his face in his hands. “I know how stupid that sounds now.”
“Tell me everything, Louis.” Charles spoke gently, but inside he was seething.
“I started selling. This kid Max at school, he found most of the clients—the kids—but I was the one dealing with Jean. It started to get stressful for me, so I started using at school to handle it. Then I had a problem.” His father waited in silence, and Louis took a deep breath before rushing forward. “I was robbed twice at parties in the neighborhood. I’m almost sure I was drugged because I didn’t have that much alcohol or pot, and I don’t remember a lot of the evening.”
“Were you harmed in any way?” Charles felt bile rising in his throat.
“No, not that. But—” Louis hesitated. “Both times they stole the money I was supposed to return to Jean. So when I went to meet him, I didn’t have it.”
“What did he do to you?” Charles’s voice hardened.
