Spoils of the Game (36 page)

Austin laughed in his own mind. If only the cop knew the whole story.

“Monsieur Clay, I am glad to see that you are back from your vacation, but I must make a confession.”

“Confession?” said Austin, suspecting that he was about to learn a lot more.

“I perhaps should have warned you of our fears so that you could be on alert, but you are certainly able to take care of yourself. I did, however, take an opportunity to put a trace on your cell phone.”

Austin was not sure whether he should thank the cop for following him electronically.

“Monsieur Clay, here are the records of your location for the last thirty days, taken every two hours. I also have the same records for a phone that we believe was in the possession of a Simon Basset. Initially I was worried that you were going on a treasure hunt, but for the first week or so, you were exactly where you said you would be—down at the beach. But then, if you look at this map, you began to move north and into Italy, as shown by the blue line I have placed on the map. You will notice that I also have a red line, which is the location of the phone that we now know was owned by Monsieur Basset. Over the next few days you appeared to wander in Northern Italy, and Basset’s red line was next to yours. It might lead one to believe that you and Monsieur Basset were traveling together.”

The detective could sense Austin’s building reaction.

“Monsieur Clay, please be patient. There is no reason to be concerned. Please let me continue. There is a period of time when you appeared to be out in the middle of the Italian countryside, and then you left, and you must have driven down this country road where the Italian police found a white van that had been rented to a Joseph Petan, also known as Simon Basset. Under the van the police found a large folding knife identical to the one we removed from Feret’s skull. See, here is a picture of the knife.”

Austin extended his hand and took the picture from the cop. It was nothing he had not seen before.

“Monsieur Clay, you will see in this picture that there is blood splattered on the side of the van, and the side of the van has been dented. It might allow one to believe that there was a fight and that someone with great strength was involved. In this picture you will see a metal rod and blood on the ground. The blood is the same type as that of Monsieur Basset. Monsieur Clay, please excuse me, but these pictures may be difficult to look at. These are the autopsy photos that were sent to me by the Italian authorities. Let’s limit your view to those of the person identified as Simon Basset.”

Austin looked at the photos and found them both shocking and of great interest. Austin had been in his share of medical procedures, and blood and pictures of the inner working of the human body were very familiar. But seeing photos of a gaping neck with the lower jawbone still attached was not the neat and clean portrayal that he was used to.

“Monsieur Clay, please look at the photos of the arm and the knees. It would appear that someone of great strength tried to hurt our friend Simon sometime before his death. And perhaps the metal rod used in the former picture was the weapon.”

Austin maintained a poker face while trying to look interested.

“Monsieur Clay, after the fight or whatever happened, your phone then traveled to Switzerland, which in my mind can serve only one purpose. Monsieur Clay, let me tell you what I think. I do not think that you were involved with the Feret murder. I do think that you found the gold you were seeking and that you had a battle with Basset to keep it. I believe that you placed the gold in a Swiss account. Since the conflict happened in Italy, it is out of my jurisdiction, and to be honest, I do not doubt that Basset deserved everything that you gave him. I also do not think that the Italians will care about any fight either, because they do not know who you are and because you are not implicated in the deaths. They may care about what happened to their gold, but I will let you address that topic. But I have to ask a question. Did you find the gold? And was it worth the lives of four people?”

Austin leaned back on the couch, slow to provide and answer. His mind raced with his own collection of questions. Why did this cop care? Was he, like so many others, sniffing around to get his fair share of the treasure? It was time to go on the offense.

“Detective, I have nothing to hide, but your question is a little bit of an insult. First, let’s check your math. By my count, at least six people died over the past five hundred years in trying to either protect or find this gold, and I am not including the solders that died the day it was delivered to agents of the king of France. Was I a fool to chase the treasure? Perhaps, but gold is powerful stuff. It’s like sex. It was not my intention that anyone die, but of the people I know that did die, all of them got their own asses into the problem, and they all are responsible for their own fates. We were all fools, but in the end we were all victims of a pathetic joke. Yes, I found the gold, but it turned out not to be what was advertised for the last five hundred years. I am not one euro richer for my efforts, and I put my life and the lives of others at risk in the process. You came here to ask me some questions relating to your case, and I have not heard one question that was worth my time. If you have a sick, voyeuristic interest in this soap opera, I can understand, but I will not support you. If you want to get in line to lay claim to the gold, understand that there are a lot of other fools, both dead and alive, ahead of you. Detective, if I am guilty of a crime, arrest me. Otherwise this meeting is over.”

Detective Blanc gathered his papers and prepared to leave the apartment. “Monsieur Clay, I have learned that gold or money or love or jealousy can lead to conflict that in the end seems so foolish, and many lives can be destroyed. It is not my business if you found the gold or not, and since it was out of my jurisdiction, I don’t care. But I must say that I would have loved to be there if you were the one to beat up the man named Simon. It is comforting to know that sometimes bad people get what they deserve. I know that you did not kill him, but if you did, I can assure you that it would remain our secret.” Without additional comment the cop left.

Late in the afternoon, Austin stopped by the museum to pick up his future wife. Coming back to reality made issues for both of them, but of the two, Madeline had perhaps the most to handle. Austin and Madeline skipped dinner and fueled their discussion with ice cream as they walked through the Jardin des Tuileries, a park near the museum. There was so much to talk about, and there were so many notes to compare. The issue of Badeau appeared to be of concern to the museum, but little had actually been said, and it appeared that the case was closed and perhaps being forgotten or maybe covered up. They discussed the wedding, and Austin was open to whatever plans were proposed. Austin elected not to mention the meeting with Detective Blanc. From his pocket Austin took an e-mail message he had printed and showed it to Madeline. Madeline read the document and then looked back at Austin, not knowing what any of the information meant.

Austin smirked at her. “This, my dear Madeline … this may seal my fate.”

The words sounded threatening. Madeline’s ability to absorb more bad news was in short supply.

“No. no,” he said. “This is good news, not bad. Do you remember I mentioned that I had funded a small company called BioCircus that was working on a cure for cancer?”

Madeline suggested that she had some vague knowledge of the name.

“This note from BioCircus states that all of the animal trials with one of the families of cultured bacteria designed to selectively eat cancer cells have been a complete success. The results have been so good that we are on an accelerated schedule to go to limited trials involving humans.”

Madeline listened carefully but still could not understand.

“Madeline the stock price of BioCircus just jumped up twenty-five points. On paper, I just made another fifty million.”

The news was something that Madeline could not comprehend. What did this mean to Austin, or to them?

“Madeline, do you remember Father Moreau?”

“Yes, he is the priest that supports your art restoration efforts.”

“I mentioned to him that while trying to save art, I wondered if my efforts should be aimed at helping people rather than saving a bunch of old pieces of canvas. I have enough money. I can never spend what I have. I want to put the art restoration program in place and find some pretty woman to run it, but I want to do more. I have been very lucky. BioCircus was just luck. I put my money in the hands of people I knew and trusted, people with an interesting plan. By the time BioCircus technology goes to market, my shares will be worth a great deal more money. I have got to put this money into something more beneficial. I am going to start a foundation. I do not know what I am going to do just yet, but I want something that has a permanent impact on the world.”

Madeline leaned over and kissed Austin. She did not understand the magnitude of the money, but she loved a man dedicated to good. There was a new excitement in the air, and she felt very lucky.

Paulette called back the next morning with the information that Madeline wanted. The good priest was going to be in Chartres on Friday and would be there for about three days. Madeline had committed to reaching the priest, and by three that afternoon she had talked with him for several minutes on the phone. A meeting was set for Friday afternoon at the cathedral.

It took the week for Madeline to get back into her job, but her heart was not in it. Austin was taking about going back to the United States to catch up on business, and her sister wanted her to visit again. Austin had new plans in his head, and try as she would, Madeline now knew less than she ever had. On Tuesday night Austin came over for dinner. Madeline needed some time to talk with the man she was going to marry. So much was happening with little bugs that eat parts of people and the art recovery program, and with the wedding and Benjamin and everything else in her head, her head was swimming. She just wanted a slow, calm discussion. For days she had been worried about her job, but now she was worried that she might never have to work again.

When Austin arrived, he held flowers, and Madeline smiled, because with everything going on, he had not forgotten her. The apartment was full of cooking smells. Madeline had learned what Austin liked, and dinner was aimed at his stomach. As Austin helped Madeline set the table, his cell his phone rang.

“Austin, this is your buddy Dr. Bob.”

“Hey, Bob, nice to hear your voice,” said Austin with a touch of sarcasm. “Did you get to see the stuff that Madeline’s sister sent you?”

“Yeah, that is why I am calling. You are not the patient or the patient’s family, so officially I should not tell you what we found, but this might be an easy fix.”

“Oh,” said Austin. “Wait, let me get Madeline on the phone. She is the aunt of the boy.

“Hello, Dr. Bob,” said Madeline into Austin’s cell phone, which was set to speaker.

Austin called out, “Bob, let me be the first to tell you that Madeline and I are getting married.”

“Oh, no! After my divorce, I thought you and I could run around together and get crazy with the ladies.”

“Bob, this woman has stolen my heart, and I am afraid that I had to surrender.”

“Well, Madeline you got one of the best guys in the world, and I wish you both the best. Now let me tell you the news.”

“Okay, talk,” replied Austin.

“The radiologists are the heroes here. I had two of the best guys in the business look at the X-rays and the MRIs, and the problem is very sneaky. There is a vertebral fracture on the inside of the structure that is very small and very hard to detect. It looks like a very small piece of bone is pressing against the nerve bundle, which is the cause of the current problem. The surgery is a little tricky, but we can do it. After the surgery and some therapy, the boy should be fine. The problem they are seeing now is that the bone chip is probably not staying put—it’s moving around a little. The sooner we work on this, the better.”

Austin said, “Dr. Bob, I was told this afternoon that we will be at the mother’s house this weekend, and we will discuss the details with her then.”

“Call my secretary if everybody agrees, and she will set things up.”

“Will you be around on Saturday, Dr. Bob?”

“I should be, in the afternoon. I am playing golf with Dick Booth and a couple of his friends on Saturday, but I should be home by two unless something happens and I am at the hospital.”

“Great, we will call you then.”

“That’s fine, I will look forward to it.”

“Dr. Bob,” said Madeline, “thank you very much. I know my sister will be very happy.”

“Madeline, take care of my friend Austin. He is a good guy.”

“Oh, doctor, I can promise that,” replied Madeline.

The dinner was on the table, getting cold. The news was so good that Madeline had to call her sister. Not being one to let a good meal go to waste and at Madeline’s insistence, Austin ate while she was on the phone. Austin had every intention of going back to his apartment and spending some phone time with people at Clay Medical. But after she got off the phone, Madeline had other plans, and Austin did not leave until the morning.

On Friday Austin arranged for a car for the trip to meet Gladieux and then to go south to the home of Paulette, Louis, and the two boys. The cathedral at Chartres was one of the biggest in the world. It could easily be seen for miles as one drove south from Paris along the N10. Completed in the beginning of the thirteenth century, the cathedral had survived the ages well and continued to be a glory to God in the French countryside. The village around the cathedral was a sleepy and timeless example of what France had been. As an engineer, Austin Clay was amazed that men could build such a building without powered machinery, using only their own hands and a dedication to their father in heaven.

It was about five when they met with the priest at the church office. Gladieux was seated in a wheelchair in a corner of the office. His hands were folded on his chest, and he looked like he was napping.