Spoils of the Game (22 page)

“Is Simon your first name or your last name?” asked Austin, trying to be polite.

“I am just known as Simon.”

Austin was surprised by the answer. Here was an individual that wanted to talk about some business deal, and the man played games with his own name. Simon was very tan with thick black hair, a scar on the left side of his face, and a misshapen ear. On first inspection. Austin’s new acquaintance seemed a little distant and perhaps a little uncultured. Austin found the scar and the ear fitting for one so crude.

“Please sit, sit,” said Badeau, who was trying a little too hard to be gracious. It was clear that since Austin had seen Badeau last, he had lost a lot of weight and perhaps had not slept much. There were several bottles of wine on the table, and Badeau asked everyone what they might like. The more he tried to act as host, the more awkward he appeared.

“So, Monsieur Austin, how do you like Nice and the sun of the Riviera?” asked Badeau, apparently fishing for the real reason Austin was with Madeline.

“I love this part of the world, but I have been spending too much time on the beach. I love the sun, but the sun does not like me,” Austin said with a laugh. The others joined in a phony laugh.

There was a general discussion about art, and Bertrand appeared to be very aware of the French market. Simon said nothing, but it was clear that he was listening carefully. On the surface, the dinner was pleasant, although Austin could sense some tension in the air. While eating dinner they exchanged pleasantries, and over dessert Badeau nervously began to get to the real reason for the meeting.

“Madeline, we wanted to talk with you so that you could communicate to Monsieur Clay an opportunity that has arisen. The fact that Monsieur Clay is here is good news and should be a big help. Monsieur Bertrand is an art dealer with many contacts and resources. He has mentioned over the years that he has an interest in the story of the missing ransom that some believe might be associated with the artist Maetan. I mentioned to Monsieur Bertrand that you also had an interest, and he thought that if resources were combined, perhaps progress could be made in finding the gold—which I am sure everyone would like to see.”

Austin listened very carefully and studied Bertrand’s face and appearance, including the rings on his hands. He remembered what Madeline had said about Sabine’s comments and the prior meeting of Badeau, Simon and Bertrand.

Bertrand leaned forward to speak but waited for Badeau to finish.

Finally Bertrand spoke. “Monsieur Austin, as Claude Badeau has stated, we do have some connections that can streamline the process of dealing with items such as gold. Sometimes there are tax issues, or there might be problems with converting large amounts of antiquities, such as coins. Some of my associates can resolve these issues quickly, with little red tape. At present, Monsieur Badeau and I have a strong interest in assisting your efforts, if we might be of help.”

Austin did not like anything he was hearing, and he disliked the people that were talking. They knew too much, and perhaps they knew people that could be even more trouble. Austin reached over with his foot and tapped Madeline on the leg to prepare her for what was going to happen.

“Monsieur Bertrand, I came to France to further a dream of my dead wife, whom I loved and respected. I do not know if Monsieur Badeau has explained my primary objective, but finding gold was not on the list. I must admit that I am confused why you are talking to me.”

Badeau was quick to say, “Monsieur Clay, I had several discussions with Monsieur Feret, and it was his opinion that you were gathering valuable information. He believed that with enough time, you might actually find the treasure. He actually hoped that you would.”

“Gentlemen,” said Austin, “the story I learned from the recently departed Professor Feret was fascinating, and I will admit that I did a little research. I have resources in the United States, which I have called upon to help me in this effort—people ranging from my secretary, to friends at Columbia University, and others at the Holocaust museum in Washington DC. At this time, I have no interest in looking for any treasure, and I am afraid what I can tell you at this time is not good news.”

Badeau looked worried, while the man named Simon had no reaction.

“There is strong evidence,” continued Austin, “that the gold in question was found and that it wound up in the hands of one Klaus Barbie and the Third Reich. I do not know what you know of Jacob Frankel, but according to reports that I have, Monsieur Frankel found the gold after his own research back in the late 1930s, and the Nazis were nice enough to declare it abandoned property after he died during the war.”

Madeline had enough presence of mind to act as if everything that Austin was saying was true, but she had no idea where this was going.

“Let me expand a little,” said Austin. “In about 1938, Jacob Frankel, who was a Jewish banker in Nantes and an art collector, acquired the painting that Madeline acquired for the Louvre. It is well documented that he was in possession of this painting and had done significant research on the subject. In 1940 an article written about Monsieur Frankel gave the impression that he was still looking for the gold, but there is now evidence that it was a cover story to confuse everyone and give the impression that he had not found the gold. Shortly after the article was written, the Germans swept through France and set about gathering up the Jewish population. This resulted in Monsieur Frankel being shot by the Gestapo and his family being sent to the death camps. That might be the end of the story, but my contacts at Columbia and in Washington DC added much more. The Nazis grabbed all of Monsieur Frankel’s resources, including his art collection, his home, and the resources of his financial institution. I have seen documents, provided by my friend in Washington DC, that show without question that the Germans sent about six hundred pounds of gold coins to Germany, and that Klaus Barbie and another German officer fought for the credit. I believe that someone skimmed off a good percentage of the gold for their personal use. Whatever the final disposition, I have no idea where the gold is now, and I actually don’t care. Some of it may be in your watch, but your watch might also contain remnants of gold teeth that the Nazis acquired. So if you are looking for gold, I am afraid that I am not your guy.”

Bertrand looked down at the floor and was quiet. His associate Simon, who had said nothing all night, continued to be silent.

Sensing the right moment, Madeline said, “Gentlemen, if you do not mind, I have to go to the ladies’ room. Does anyone know where it is?”

Badeau rose and offered to show Madeline where it was. He escorted her from the table.

With a very serious look on his face, Bertrand said, “Monsieur Austin, I must say that we were hoping we might do business. My friend Monsieur Badeau and his wife have been active in the art world, and mistakes have been made. A few months ago he was involved in the sale of an item to the wife of a gentlemen from Marseille, who was not very happy when it was discovered that the painting might be a forgery. I interceded and arranged for the return of the money, but we now understand that our friend in Marseille believes that we owe him something more. Monsieur Badeau mentioned the possibility that he might participate in the search for the fabled gold. I must admit that I was horrified that it was even suggested. I am very sorry to hear of your discoveries, and now we are faced with the predicament of finding another way to pay the debt that we owe.”

“Monsieur Bertrand, there are two things I must say,” said Austin. “First, if I knew where the gold was, I would not be working on my tan. And second, I am not sure I am the kind of guy that needs partners. A part of my brain wants to be angry, and other part says that there is no point. When my vacation is over, I will be going back to Paris, and after some meetings at the Louvre, I will be returning to the United States. The gold is gone, Monsieur Bertrand. As far as Badeau’s debt, I just cannot help, but I am sure you can work out something.” Turning to Simon, he asked, “Simon, what is your role in this venture?”

“I represent the interests of the gentleman in Marseille.”

“And what is his name?”

“His name is not important. Let’s just say he is a very good businessman with an interest in a variety of opportunities.”

“Can either of you gentlemen tell me why Feret was murdered?” asked Austin.

Bertrand looked at Simon, who looked disinterested and said, “I guess somebody didn’t like him.”

Madeline returned with Badeau in tow.

“Madeline, I think it is time to say good night to our host. Thank you, gentlemen,” said Austin and extended his hand to the two men.

The meeting had not gone as Badeau had hoped, and it was clear that he was more nervous now than when Austin had arrived in the restaurant. Austin had never liked Badeau, but the two men he’d been introduced to were scum, and Austin knew it. When the time was right and he had returned to Paris, Austin was going to have a little discussion with Vassar regarding Monsieur Badeau.

Austin and Madeline returned to the car and headed out of Nice.

“Austin, I do not know what you were doing, but you are such a beautiful liar.”

“That meeting was an ambush and an effort to crash our party. I am beyond mad. Bertrand told me that your boss may be in trouble with people that can hurt him. But what I don’t understand is that the Louvre lets him get away with something that cannot be a secret. And that little creep Simon is scary.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t know more. Perhaps I was not paying attention, but I agree. I think his career at the Louvre is over,” said Madeline.

“It is amazing that they thought they had any chance at getting a piece of the project. It was a good lie, wasn’t it?”

Madeline looked at Austin, who was driving back to Antibes. She said, “Austin, I am telling you that I’m getting very tired of this topic.”

“Hey, I dropped it because you got mad. It was your boss who brought the whole thing up. What makes me mad is that I didn’t punch each of those clowns in the mouth. The guy with the rings is a queer, and the guy known as Simon-with-no-last-name needs two punches. Who the hell tells someone that he only has one name? Is he some kind of rock star or something? You know, I have learned over the years that there are a lot of strange people in the art world, and I can accept that, but these guys are insulting. If I heard correctly from Bertrand, your boss sold some crap to the wrong people, and they are upset. He gave the money back, or they would have killed him. But now they are looking for a favor to make up for what Badeau did. Nothing in the Louvre is safe. Badeau has to go, and he knows it. I think he made a big mistake giving Bertrand access to us, because Bertrand has a big mouth, and now we know of Badeau’s crap.”

“I suspect that Simon is the second man that Sabine was talking about,” said Madeline. “He has an accent from Southern France, but it is not Marseille. I suspect it is from the southwest, down near the Basque Country.”

Austin drove up the drive to the house they had rented. He shut off the car and looked at Madeline.

“I promised you that I was turning this gold thing off while we were on vacation, and I will stand by the promise. I was probably more right than I know when I told those two that the Nazis got the gold. If they had, my life would be a lot cleaner. I admit I have gone a little crazy on this topic and I apoligize.”

Madeline leaned over and gave him a kiss. “I think there is some wine in the kitchen. We both need some.”

* * *

The drive back from Nice allowed Simon the opportunity to follow Austin and Madeline to the house on the hill. Simon had begun his career as a small-time crook and had advanced by making friends in Marseille who were bigger crooks. Perhaps Simon had intuition, or perhaps he was just a good liar himself, but he did not believe Austin Clay and was willing to just wait and see.

Chapter 8

Northern Italy

The sun rose over the ocean and filled the bedroom with light, as it did every morning. Austin looked over at the clock on the dresser and saw that it was six-thirty. He rolled toward Madeline to his right, but she was not there. He sat up in bed and saw her out on the patio, dressed in a white robe. Austin rolled out of bed, put on his robe, and walked outside.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted her. “Why are you up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I woke up and started to think about this whole Maetan thing and what was said last night. Your lie last night was so good, and now I am worried that you were more right than you knew,” said Madeline. “Frankel was on the trail, and he knew a lot, but he did not have what we have, and your lie only goes so far. Unless he was very lucky or he had clues that we do not know about, I do not think he found the gold. The biggest clue is in the infrared scans.”

“Hey, I was just making that up. If it weren’t for Frankel and that whole sad story, I would have had nothing.”

“Well, I have a surprise for you, Austin, but I am not sure if it helps or hurts.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“In the article written about Frankel in 1938, he mentions that Maetan had another name. The name was Lodewyk Jamart.”

“Okay …?”

“Well, the other paintings that we got from Father Gladieux were painted by Jamart. That includes this painting of the church and the portrait. Now, if you look at the Maetan battle painting that someone modified with the trees, you do not see anything in this portion of the painting. But if you look at the picture you got after the infrared scan, you can see what might be Maetan in his wagon and this town over the horizon. Now look at the town carefully, and then look at the church. Do you see it?”

Austin looked at the printout of the scan. A few buildings and two spires of a church were visible in the town, and the spires looked like the same towers in the Jamart painting of the church.

Madeline continued, “Frankel did not have this information, and I do not know if he knew of a connection. There is no identification of the church. We do not know the name of the town, but we now know where the town might be. I think the church is part of the puzzle, and that is one reason it was taken out of the battle painting. Frankel knew that Maetan had been the center of the gold issue, and he may have believed that there were clues in his paintings, and that is why he collected them. But I am not sure he had put it all together.”