Tainted Tokay (10 page)

25

T
he broken slats of the shutters in the Rue Saint Rémi apartment were doing a poor job of filtering the brilliant sunshine. A large swath of Alexandrine's back was bathed in light. Only the sheet kept it from creeping belo
w her tailbone.

Captivated, Virgile gazed at this lovely body dotted with beauty marks. Her skin had a musky sweet smell. It was silky and s
lightly tanned.

He would have to answer to his boss for taking the afternoon off, but at this moment all he could think about was the feel of pearly buttons under his fingertips, the awkward fumbling of zippers and shoelaces, the urgent dance to the bed, the surreal moment of this fantasy come true, and finally moaning and quivering bodies and
feverish lips.

Virgile ran his fingers over the deliciously scented skin. Alexandrine turned over. Her eyes still closed, she drew her body close and nestled agai
nst his chest.

Alexandrine was working up to a passionate replay. Virgile was careful not to disturb the bandage on her nose or the stitches on her brow. He kissed her tenderly many times over, still astonished that they had actually made love after all the years she had refuse
d his advances.

“For a woman who prefers women, you could have fooled me,” he said
between kisses.

“Don't make me laugh, Virgile. It'll
hurt too much.”

“Just so I get the full scope of what's just happened, you've got to tell me: white,
rosé, or red?”

Alexandrine looked at him blankly. “I told you, I can't dr
ink right now.”

“No, let's say white for girls only—usually, at least, rosé for flexible from time to time, or red,
for all-in bi?”

She looked into his eyes. “That's stretching the wine metaphor a bit far, even for you. And you know that's no question to ask a lady. What is it you really want to know? Would you be surprised if I said you're not the first ma
n in my life?”

“Any
body I'd know?”

Alexandrine sat up and pulled the sheet over her breasts. She smiled, but Virgile could tell
it was forced.

“There was a second-cousin. His name was Raphaël. I was in love with him when I was fifteen. We had a little fling one summer in Cap Ferret. Just a flirtation. Very innocent. He's married now to a girl from the Chartrons, a preachy sort who teaches catechism and leads the choir in a town in Gers, where he was just elected mayor. You
know the type.”

“Wa
s he handsome?”

“I loved his blue eyes and his ass. So f
irm and round.”

“So you're an ass woman,” Virgile said, rolling over. “How does
mine stack up?”

“No worries in that department. I've been ogling your posterior for a long time,
Mr. Lanssien.”

“Really, now? So what took you so long? You didn't have to go get beat up to hop in the
sack with me.”

Alexandrine's face went slack. She looked down and wrapped her arms ar
ound her knees.

“Oh, shit. I didn't mean that, Alex. But now that I've mentioned it, are you going to tell me what really ha
ppened to you?”

“It's complicated. I don't know if I can. S
omeday, maybe.”

26

“G
ood grief!” Benjamin cried out, patting Elisabeth's cheeks to revive her. “
She's fainted.”

A few seconds later, Elisabeth came to. “I'm fine, Benjamin.” In truth, she looked pale and weak. “I just
need some air.”

“It's the black angels,” Zoltán muttered. He told his cousin to help her out of the cellar. “In this maze she'll never
find her way.”

“Let me go with you,”
Benjamin said.

But Elisabeth refused his help. “Have your tasting. You've been looking forward to it.” She took Pavel's arm, and the two started heading towar
d the entrance.

Benjamin knew that Elisabeth would be fine once she was outside and breathing fresh air. He felt guilty for insisting that she come along. “All right, let's get on with it,” he told hi
s tour leaders.

Benjamin picked up his glass again, giving it the respect it deserved. The
gönci
barrels were never subjected to unnecessary intrusions. They were virtual safes, where the wine aged for as long as eight years. Here, the Tokaji was pr
ecious as gold.

Benjamin sniffed and inspected the wine and then carefully chewed his first s
ip while Vilmos

and Zoltán watched. A second later, the cel
lar went black.

The winemaker heard Vilmos call out to his brother. No response. Vilmos barked Pavel's name again.
Still, nothing.

“No panic,” he heard Zoltán yell. “He must
be out by now.”

Benjamin was wondering if he could feel his way out of the cellar, but he decided against it. Two steps, and he'd be walking straight into a wall. Better to let his guides figure out what to do. Surely this wasn't the first time they had lost the
ir electricity.

He felt someone patting him. “Are we all here?” he he
ard Zoltán ask.

Two seconds later he heard the flick of a lighter, and the cellar took on an eerie glow. Benjamin looked around. For the first time he noticed a passageway filled with bottles wrapped in black crepe. Their golden caps stood out in the fun
ereal ambiance.

Zoltán lit a candle, which he handed to Vilmos. The cousin propped it in a glass next to Benjamin's and Claude's. The winemaker noted how the flame highlighted the amber color of the exceptional aszú. Then he glanced at Claude. In the candlelight his solemn face resembled a subject in a Maurice Quentin de La
Tour painting.

But where was Pavel? By now, he should
have been back.

“I'm worried about Elisabeth,” Benjamin said. “She might have fainted again. We should make our wa
y out of here.”

“I'm sure she's fine,” Zoltán said. “She just needed fresh air. We shouldn't miss this. Who knows if we'l
l ever return?”

Vilmos suggested they taste a new cask. Benjamin didn't need much coaxing. Indeed, when would he have this opportunity again? It was an older vintage, perfectly syrupy, with tones of apricot and mango and a hint
of gingerbread.

Concentrating, Benjamin clicked his tongue against his palate three times to assess the aszú. He swallowed. Benjamin closed his eyes, as if he were communing with an unseen force, and said nothing. How could such bliss be expressed
in mere words?

Finally, he spoke. “Silky and sw
eet. Luscious.”

As Zoltán and Vilmos looked on, Claude imitated the winemaker's act of devotion. “Yes,” he said. “A fine balance of fruit, acidity, and r
esidual sugar.”

“It's l
ike Sauternes.”

At that moment the electricity came on again. An orangish light illuminated the men and the casks. With a bright smile that displayed his perfect teeth, Zoltán greeted the return of the lights. Benjamin took the opportunity to examine the dates chalked on the casks. Aszú wine was not made every year. Like French sweet wines, it depended on the quality
of the harvest.

Vilmos seemed eager to end the tour. Benjamin figured there was nothing more to be gained, as far as their guide was concerned, unless he was ready to hand over a fistful of cash for a cou
ple of bottles.

Just as they were turning around to leave, a whistle resonated in the cellar. A second whistle ricocheted off the walls ten seconds later. The electricity flickered again, and Vilmos encouraged his group to hurry toward the exit. As they picked up their pace, Zoltán told Benjamin and Claude that prolonged human presence could alter the Tokaji, the same way frescos on the walls of ancient grottos could be damaged if too many people breath
ed around them.

Benjamin harrumphed. He knew about Lascaux, the famous caves that had to be closed because the drawings had deteriorated, but he had never heard such twaddle about wine in a cellar. It didn't matter. He was ready to leave anyway. Emerging from the labyrinth, he blinked in the harsh daylight and mopped his forehead. He looked for Elisabeth. She was nowh
ere to be seen.

27

T
hey both jumped at the knock at the door. Alexandrine threw off the sheets and hopped out of the bed. She grabb
ed her clothes.

“Shit! Is it one of your girlfriends, Virgile?” she said, hustling to get into her lace undergarments. She hastened to button her tailored white blouse and headed down the hall looking for her p
ants and boots.

“Alex, relax. I don't have a girlfriend right now. Why does everyone think I've got them coming and going all the time?” He slipped into his jeans and pulled o
n a polo shirt.

He joined Alexandrine in the living room. The knocking be
came insistent.

Virgile opened the door to find a rather harried-looking Didier standing on the threadbare red carpet in the narrow hallway that served as a landing. He had one hand on the flower-patterned wallpaper and was breathing hard, probably from running up the
spiral stairs.

“Didier! What are you doing here?” Virgile stood in the doorway and put both hands up to block him
from coming in.

“Look, it's abou
t Alexandrine.”

“What about Alexandrine? Just who do you think you are, anyway? First you hang around the lab to find out who we're working with. Then you sidle up to my boss and get him to ask you to fill in at Cooker & Co. As if going after my job weren't enough, now you're stalking my friend and colleague Alexandrine! Just stop. Stop it all. You're way out of line. For all I know, you're the one wh
o beat her up!”

Didier's eyes looked like saucers. Virgile stared rig
ht back at him.

“Virgile.” The soft voice came from behind him. “It's not w
hat you think.”

Alexandrine nudged Virgile out of the way. He stepped aside, not sure
of what to say.

“Alex, I need to talk to you,
” Didier asked.

28

B
enjamin looked over at Claude, who had put on his Panama hat and was brushing the fungus off his beige shirt. Then the winemaker scanned the vines that extended well into the distance. The countryside seemed abandoned by its actors. Were all the vintners napping at this hour of the afternoon? And where were Elisa
beth and Pavel?

Vilmos turned the key in the large lock and dropped it into hi
s pants pocket.

“We need to find Elisabeth,” Benjamin said, tur
ning to Zoltán.

“I'm sure she's fine, Mr. Cooker,” Zoltán answered. “My cousin probably took her into town. She's sitting in the shade of an apple tree or maybe relaxing near the fountain. Or perhaps he's taken her to a café for
a cool drink.”

Claude tried joking to make him feel better. Maybe Pavel and Elisabeth had struck something up. Slavic men, after all, had a
certain charm.

Benjamin wasn't amused. With a rising sense of urgency he started down the path to Mád. He heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted her. She was sitting in the grass under a fig tree. The color had returned to her cheeks. He waved, and Elisabeth, wearing a smi
le, waved back.

“I was worried about you,” he said when he reached her.
“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine. I just needed to get out of there, Benjamin. I'm concerned about Pavel. He went to the village to get some water, and I haven't seen him since. I don't know what ha
ppened to him—”

Vilmos interrupted them. “I have to leave you now,” he said. “I must get
back to work.”

Zoltán and Vilmos exchanged a few words in Mag
yar and nodded.

Benjamin thanked Vilmos for allowing them to visit the paradise of buried aszú and offered to buy a few bottles. Vilmos told them that Zoltán would handle the arrangements. They shook hands, and Vilmos took off at a trot in the opposite directi
on of the town.

Elisabeth looked at her husband. “I'm tired, Benjamin. Let's go back to the inn. Consuela was right to forgo the tasting. I should have done the same thing. And we don't know if Pavel's returning. Maybe something ca
me up in town.”

Driving back to the inn, Zoltán was quiet behind the wheel of the old Trabant. Benjamin had told Elisabeth to sit in the front with their guide but now he wondered if that was a wise decision. The old jalopy jostled on the turns and was full of rust. The floorboards were bare in spots. They could see potholes bene
ath their feet.

Benjamin and Claude discussed the Tokajis they had tasted. They agreed on everything, diverging only on the le
ngth of finish.

“In any case, we'll be able to tell people that we did a blind tasting of some excellent aszús,
” Claude joked.

“You can say that again,” Be
njamin replied.

Elisabeth turned around and smiled at the two men. “So, you gentlemen had quite an underground adventure, didn't
you?” she said.

Just as Claude and Benjamin were finishing their blackout tale, Elisabeth put a hand to her shoulder bag. She patted it, and then, with an alarmed look, she unzipped the bag and started rummaging through it. The color drained
from her face.

“What's the matter, sweetheart?”
Benjamin asked.

“My passport and wallet in my travel pouch.
They're gone!”

“What?” the winemaker shouted, realizing the trap they had fallen into. He felt inside his jacket pocket and was relieved to find his passport and the euros he had slipped inside
the document.

“It was Pavel!” Elisabeth said. “How could I have been so stupid? I shouldn't have taken my
eyes off him!”

“What the… Zoltán, it was you! It's been you all along,” Claude yelled. He fell upon Zoltán, seizing him from behind and wrapping his arm around his throat.
“Stop the car!”

Zoltán began to choke, but instead of stopping, he stepped on t
he accelerator.

Elisabeth grabbed the wheel and cried out. “Stop it! Please! He had nothing
to do with it.”

The Trabant rounded a bend and plowed on for another ten yards before coming to a stop. Paying Elisabeth no mind, Claude dragged Zoltán out of the car and threw him
onto the hood.

“You little bastard, you're going to tell us where your so-called cousin is,” Claude shouted. “He's going to
answer to me!”

Claude's face was red, and his breathing was quick. Benjamin leaped out of the car an
d rushed over.

“First my passport, then you hit on my girlfriend, and now this!” Claude was
making a fist.

“I did nothing,” Zoltán protested. “How could you accuse me of
such a thing?”

Benjamin intervened, grabbing his friend's shoulders. “Calm
down, Claude.”

“I know it's all connected.
He's a crook!”

“Claude!” It was Elisabeth. “That's enough. Zoltán, come on. Take us to your cousin's house so we can work this out. There must be som
e explanation.”

Claude relaxed his muscles, and Benjamin let him go. Zoltán straightened up. Benjamin wa
s studying him.

“Vilmos isn't really a vintner's son, is he? Is that why he hurried off and disappeared into the fields? We weren't supposed to be in those cellars were we? That's why we rushed out when we heard those two whistles? What about in the dark, when you patted me to find where I was? Was that really to p
ick my pocket?”

Zoltán looked around. He was preparing to run, but Benjamin was angry. Tears were glistening in Elisabeth's eyes. She had been the boy's advocate, insisting that he serve as their guide from Budapest to Tokaj. Benjamin knew she was indignant not only because she had been robbed, but also because she h
ad been duped.

Benjamin grabbed Zoltán before he could bolt. Claude seized the other arm. The winemaker was surprised that they could subdue Zoltán so easily. Maybe he had muscles, but he didn't seem to know anything about the martial arts. Apparently he was just a guy who spent time in t
he weight room.

“And now you're going to take us to your damned cousin's house,” Benjamin ordered, pushing him towar
d the car door.

The young man looked sheepish and stammered, seemingly compliant. “Pavel's just a distant cousin. I don'
t know Vilmos.”

Elisabeth walked over to the guide imprisoned in Benjamin and Claude's grip and sl
apped him hard.