Viva Paris 2/8ish
Title: Viva Paris 2/8ish
Spoilers: Nothing comes to mind :)
Rating: Blue Cortina for language and fighting
Summary: Our boys get the lay of the land and make some new friends.
A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I'm trying to be more correct in my writing, which means reading and re reading and getting friends to comment :) All french was translated by the lovely scotschik. Feedback is almost as good as chocolate, so if you read, please comment :)
Various looks of dismay were exchanged around the room as Litton walked between the rows of desks, surveying them all. Annie suppressed her revulsion as Litton's gaze lingered on her. Just try it you slimy git, I'll show you a few tricks the Guv taught me, she thought.
'First things first, all this mess has to go. I want everything neatly put away, all ship shape and Bristol fashion all right? I'll be supervising, from there,' he waved a hand to Gene's office.
'Oh, Officer Cartwright, fetch us a tea and biscuits would you? Ta darling.' The man turned his back on her, made his way almost daintily to Gene's office, as the members of RCS spread out among the CID, prodding and poking into action. Annie stood up, frowning.
'I can't believe the nerve of him! Ordering me around like that! Who does he think I am anyway?' she complained to Chris.
'Er, but don't the Guv an' Ray do that to yer to?' She stopped, considering for a moment.
'Well, yes. But that's different.'
'Why?'
Scratching her head, she looked down at her shoes.
'Well...because!'
Lafayette had taken them directly to the Louvre to see the scene of the crime. Sam looked around him in awe, just goggling at all the beautiful artwork. They walked by the Mona Lisa, and Sam couldn't help but stop and stare for a second.
'So dark, the con of man.' he smiled to himself.
'Oi! Major Tom! Quit yer gawping and trit trot!'
Sighing, he gathered his thoughts as he walked down the hallway to the crime scene. It was at the end of the gallery, a large empty frame surrounded by various policemen. Two mounds under white sheets told a grim story. There was a richly dressed man wearing sunglasses talking to Agent Rush as if consoling her, but she turned away from him to speak to the assembled.
'The thieves exited from a window there,' Rush said, pointing to a smashed window. He couldn't place her accent. Sounded German, maybe Swiss... He shrugged mentally.
'We believe that they came in with a crowd of tourists, hid, and then waited until the the museum was closed before they made off with the painting. Three guards surprised them, two were shot dead, one is in the hospital. He's been in and out of consciousness, but the doctors say we might be able to speak to him Friday sometime.'
'What are we doing until then?' Joe asked as he knelt by one of the bodies.
'Well we do have one lead. The tourists were mostly American, and we should have no trouble finding them. They'll be staying at the consulate.'
'Why?' Sam asked, causing all of the officers nearby to look at him.
'They're here for the Peace Accords, of course.' Lafayette said patronizingly, making Sam grit his teeth. Lovely, two coppers talking down to him. Let joy be unconfined.'Nixon has been delaying it, but the American's are finally bringing an end to the Vietnam conflict. Something,' he said dryly. 'That they should have done ten years ago.'
'Interpol has granted us diplomatic passes,' Lafayette nodded to Agent Rush, 'which give us access to the American Embassy. We are free to question, but not detain.'
'And what, pray tell, shall we do if we happen to find the bloody painting there?' said Gene as he took another swig from his flask.
Lafayette shot him an inscrutable look. 'Do nothing. Call me immediately and I'll take care of it.'
'Oh really? So that makes you the sherrif does it?' Sam could feel his muscles tense as he heard the unspoken challenge in Gene's voice.
'If you mean am I in charge of this case then yes, that is correct. Though technically Miss Rush is heading up the investigation.'
For a moment, Gene and Lafayette stood facing each other, and Sam was reminded of those Westerns Gene liked so much, where the two gunslingers squared off against each other.
Chewing on his thumbnail, he looked on, hoping that Gene remembered where he was in time.
'Bird in charge? Leave it to the French.' Gene said snidely. He turned to look at the slag in question, glancing up and down and then grinned. Slowly.
'That's Special Agent Rush or Miz Rush, Detective. Not "Miss" not "bird", "darling" or "sweetheart".' said the bird frostily, standing with her hands on her hips. Bet she had a nice arse.
'Yeah that an' all petal. Get us a cuppa would you?'
'I don't think I care for what you have to say, Detective Chief Inspector.' Lafayette annunciated, stepping closer. What, was he squaring up to him?
He smiled carelessly.
'Oh and what are you going to do about it? Make me disappear? I know what you Frenchies get up to.'
He gave the word 'disappear' a sneering twist. That got Laffey's back up, too right.
'Do not question my integrity, nor the integrity of my officers! We obey the law and protect the people in this city!'
'You know, I don't much care for you lot. Don't look like you know if you're wiping your nose or yer arse! Where was your precious protection when these poor bastards needed you?' He gestured to the bodies on the floor. 'Tell me Paulie, where were you when they needed protectin'? Eatin' truffles with your bit of skirt?' He took a long drag on his ciggie, keeping an eye on the Frenchie.
Lafayette grinned, baring his teeth.
'No. Having dinner with your wife. In bed.'
Did he just say....right then!
With a roar, the DCI barreled into Layfayette man, knocking him off his feet. Thumping him in the jools, he was satisfied to hear the other man groan, only to feel his ear grabbed and twisted back sharply. Pulling back, he wrenched it free, giving Lafayette enough room to knee him in the stomach. As the breath went out of him, he grabbed the mans shirt and threw him to the floor with his own momentum.
They were both getting their feet and closing in again when he found himself in a arm-lock.
'That's enough! That's enough Gene!' Sam's voice yelled in his ear. His fingers scrabbled at his jacket, trying to get a grip on his DI, but Sam used his free hand to twist his arm behind him.
'I said that's enough!' He grunted, heaving against the smaller man.
'Let. Go!' his said, his voice a low growl.
'I will, when you calm down!' Sam's voice was softer now, the tone he had when someone was being unreasonable. He struggled in his grasp, but much to his surprise, he couldn't break free. Gradually, his breathing slowed, his body relaxed fractionally.
'You'll regret this Sammy boy.' he muttered.
'Don't I always.' came the bitter reply.
The smaller man realeased Gene and stepped quickly back. The DCI turned, staring him down. Sam returned his glower inch for inch, his hands in loose fists at his sides, his stance wide, not a hint of apology anywhere on his face. And that more then anything made him punch him, right along the line of his jaw, making his knuckles sting as he cut his hand on the other mans teeth.
Sam rocked back on his heels, but didn't fall. Bringing up his hand, he swiped at his cut lip, shaking his head in disgust as he turned his back on him, walking out of the gallery.
Bloody Tyler.
'Hey, hey!' Sam ignored the sound of Joe's voice behind him.
'You can't go you moron, you're the only thing that's keeping Godzilla there from tearing this whole place apart!'
Shaking his head, Sam gave a bleak smile. 'Believe me, if he really wanted to tear this place up, nothing could stop him.'
'Well don't tell your boss that. He looked surprised as hell when you had him in that head lock.'
He looked at the Canadian, pleasantly suprised. 'Yeah?'
He grinned back at him. 'Oh yeah. Like a cod fisherman whose just hooked a Great White with a chainsaw.'
Sam chuckled. 'You've got a strange sense of humour.'
'Comes with being a Halligonian copper.' Joe pushed his hands into his pockets, smiling ruefully.
'What, it's that bad?'
'Let's just say when it comes to crime in my city, people tend to look the other way. Unless you're dealing in broad daylight, or you're WWB.'
'Sorry?'
'Walking While Black. But look, I didn't mean to get started on my own troubles. Did you get the deal on the painting?'
Another shake of the head. 'Too busy trying to untangle the Guv.'
'All right, let's go to a café or something an I'll fill you in.'
Sam stopped, grabing Joe's jacket as the other man eagerly made for the exit.
'Hold up, why don't we go to the hospital, check on the third guard?'
Joe gave him a disblieving stare as he turned up his collar against the day's chill.
'Come on Sam. We're here for a long time, might as well be a good time.'
Actually, wasn't it "We're here for a good time not a long time? Sam mused. Maybe that song hadn't come out yet.
'What do you mean "long time"? We're only here until we solve the case.'
'Yeah right.' Joe muttered.
'Look, it won't take a mo. We'll just nip in and out. No worries.'
Joe nodded reluctantly, and followed him. Oh if only Gene were so reasonable, then his jaw wouldn't be so sore.
The hospital was a blank white colour, like most of the hospital's Sam'd seen. They were shown to the guard's bed and then left on their own. Sam was struck once more by the disimilarities between his time and this time, when people would think twice before leaving a witness or suspect alone with coppers. Pushing aside such negative thoughts, he smiled down at the man, though he was so young he was practically a boy.
'Parle vous Anglais?' he said awkwardly.
The boy nodded painfully.
'Yes. My cousin is from England...we often go to see him.'
'Is it all right if we conduct the interview now? We can wait if you like.'
'No.' The boy sat up slowly. Joe grabbed a pillow and put it gingerly behind the guards head.
'I want to tell you. To get the men who killed Gilbert and Joseph.'
He stifeled a guilty pang. It hadn't even occured to him to ask the victiums names.
'All right. What's your name sir?'
'Alexandre.'
'Okay Alexandre. I want you to think back to the morning of the theft. What were you doing? Close your eyes if it helps.'
Alexandre did so, shutting them tightly.
'I was excited that morning because...we were getting ready for the....party next week. I took some....scones? Is that the right word?'
'It's all right Alexandre.' He spoke softly, soothingly.
Don't focus on the right words. Just relax. Tell me the details.'
'I took my brothers car because it is faster. You just have to be carefuly of the door. It swings, eh, fast.' He gestured with his hands, miming a trap swinging shut.
'Ah, suicide door.' Joe murmured. Sam exhanged a glance with him, then filed the comment away for later.
'What colour is the car?'
'It's a blue. Like the sky...just after the sun goes down. Rich...dark blue. I drove it to the Louvre.'
'What did you see on the way?'
'I saw...some tourists taking pictures.'
'What were they taking pictures of?'
'... nothing. Just flowers...in a window ledge.'
'What else do you see?' Sam changed his tense from past to present, hoping to nudge the young guard deeper into his mind.
'A man and his wife arguing. Over her mother...I think.'
'Are you at the Louvre yet?'
'No. I have to pass by the security. He asks for my pass. It's in the glove compartment. I take it out and show it to him.'
'Do you always keep it there?'
'Yes.
'What's the guards name?'
'Maxwell Graedon, or Craydon. Something..'
'So now you're at the Louvre. What do you do?'
'I park my car. My usual spot is taken, I have to park closer to the entrance. I don't like that. It means I'm have to push my way around the tourists and the other guards and people.'
'Once you're inside, then what do you do?'
'I go to the desk to check in. It's M. Marche. He's reading his magazine again, just waves as I sign the log. I start my circuit.'
'Where does your circuit start?'
'At the Masters Gallerie. Then through the hall towards Winged Victory. Then up the stairs to the Dutch paintings.'
'Do you know anything about them?'
'Not really. I like Van Gough better. The strange swirls and colours, they excite my eyes.'
'How many times did you do the circuit before you found the thieves do you think?'
'Ah...it was three? I walked up the stairs and it was dark. I tried to use my...um, talkie? But I couldn't get anyone. I drew my gun.'
'Why?'
'Because I could feel something was not right. And I was frightened.'
'Your walking towards the Dutch paintings.'
'...yes.'
'What do you see?'
'Nothing. I forgot about my flashlight. I'm going to turn it on.'
'What do you see now?'
'Something shining in the light. It's red. Something red. Paint. The flashlight moves, I see Gilbert. Gilbert is looking at me. But his eyes don't blink. He's dead.'
The boy started to shift restlessly on the bed.
'Easy now, easy. Nothing's gonna hurt you here Alex. What else do you see?'
'Joeseph. He's been shot, but he's all right!' A smile flashed on Alexandre's face.
'Where has he been shot?'
'On the leg I think...He's pointing at something behind me, shouting a word. I start to turn....No!'
'Alexandre, open your eyes! Open them!'
The boy guard does so, panting slightly.
'That was very good, very good. Relax now.' He grabbed the glass of water by the bed and held it out to the shaking man, helping him sip it.
'Don't worry, we'll catch them.'
Alexandre nodded, the colour coming back into his face.
'You said Joespeh shouted something. Do you remember what it was?'
'No. But he must have been warning me. What else could it have been?'
Sam nodded, patting the boys hand. 'All right Alexandre. If you remember anything, let us know'
They turned to go, Joe waved as he did so.
'If you remember anything, call Inspector Layfayette.'
Walking out of the hospital Joe sighed.
'Ready for that cafe now?'
'Yeah I could do with some coffee.'
'I was thinking about something stronger then that.'
'This is France Joe.'
'And?' The Canadian looked at him challangingly. Sam smiled.
'I'm sure we can find someplace that does both.'
'Good point.'
Joe took a swig from his wine glass, smacking his lips as he set it down.
'So...the painting. It's called "The Two Lovers", and it was painted in 1693 by the Dutch painter Hendrik Cornelis. Miss Rush, sorry, Miz Rush told us a lot of stuff about him, but that's not important right now.' he waved his hand indicating the trivialness of the painters history.
'The painting itself is a nighttime scene, a woman in purple robes and dark hair, reaching out to the moon outside her window. Out the window, there's a tower and a little blond girl looking out of the topmost window. Caused some scandal when it first came out because it was thought that the woman and the little girl were lovers. But Cornelius explained that it was the moon and the woman, not the girl and the woman.'
Joe waved his arms as he took another sip of wine.
'Golly Molly this is a nice red! Anyway, it's supposed to be pretty valuable, worth around 20,000 dollars, the painting that is, not the wine.'
Pausing, he looked at Sam.
'How much is that in pounds? Anyhow, the American's and the French want this thing tidied up within the week, because otherwise it could create another international incident.'
Sam nodded as he finished a cream tart, bemused at the other man's chatter. Then he frowned.
'Another incident?'
Joe nodded.
'Yeah, don't you read the papers? October last year, American bombers hit the French consulate during a raid on Hanoi.'
His felt his eyes widen as Joe nodded grimly. 'Yeah, great isn't it?
'Bascially, the talks are finished, but Nixon keeps lollygagging around finalizing them. These poor bastards have been up to Paris seven times already this year.'
He drained the glass and set it down with a sigh.
'So basically, even though we have only one lead, and everyone's ready to tear each other's throats out, we've got five days to solve an art theft.'
Sitting back, the other copper pulled thoughtfully at his lip.
'You know, we should speak to Monsieur Miske.'
'Miske?' Sam reached for another cream tart, taking a bite out of it.
'Well, according to my flyer here,' he waggled it under Sam's nose.
'He's the one who smuggled the painting out of Paris in the first place during the war. He might even know who'd have an interest in it. After all, he was at the Louvre today. Must be looking out for his old investment.'
'Which one was he?'
'The expensive looking one with the sunglasses? Spent a lot of time trying to chat up Miz Rush?'
'Ah.' Finishing the last of the tarts, Sam brushed off his hands.
'So. Where do you think we should start first? The embassy or Miske?'
The Canadian shook his head, then grinned.
'I know!'
He reached into his pocket and fumbled around, picking out a small silver coin.
'Heads for Miske, tails for the embassy.'
He flipped the coin high in the air, only for it to be caught by a large dark haired man. The man stared at Joe. The other man grinned plesantly back.
'Can I help you?'
'Nous ne vous voulons pas l'Américain dedans ici. Disparaissent la trouvaille quelque part autrement à manger. Peut-être l'étable de porc la plus proche.'
The man laughed, the laughter echoed around the room. Not friendly laugher either. Shooting Joe a look, Sam raised his eyebrow.
'It's nothing, just a misunderstanding. You know any French?'
'Ah..not really.'
Nodding, Joe turned to the Frenchman.
'Tout d'abord, moi et mon ami sont manger tout à fait heureux ici. En second lieu de tous, je suis un Canadien et il est un Anglais. Pourquoi ne vous asseyez-vous pas et est-ce que je vous achèterai une boisson?'
The Frenchman grinned grimly.
'Pourquoi est-ce que je boirais avec vous le menteur Américain ? Tous que vous l'Américain savent est comment combattre. Continuez ainsi, me combattent.'
He shoved Joe.
'Continuez-vous maintenant, ou allez-vous courir parti comme un petit enfant ?'
Shove. Sam didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it didn't look good.
'Avez-vous le courage de me combattre ?'
Slowly, Joe stood up, straightening his jacket, and brushed past the Frenchman to the jukebox in the corner. Putting in a coin, he pushed a button and turned around, closing his eyes, listening to the music. The Doors 'Break on Through.'
The Frenchman walked towards him, anger dark in his face as Sam stood up, ready to help his collegue.
As the guitar thrummed, the man stared at Joe in disbelief as the Canadian nodded his head in time to the music, ignoring him. Finally unable to take it anymore, the man drew back his head to hit Joe, only to hit the jukebox as the blond man ducked under his arm. Grinning, Joe beckoned him forward as the man clutched at his hand in pain.
'May I have this dance?'
chapter three.
Spoilers: Nothing comes to mind :)
Rating: Blue Cortina for language and fighting
Summary: Our boys get the lay of the land and make some new friends.
A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I'm trying to be more correct in my writing, which means reading and re reading and getting friends to comment :) All french was translated by the lovely scotschik. Feedback is almost as good as chocolate, so if you read, please comment :)
Various looks of dismay were exchanged around the room as Litton walked between the rows of desks, surveying them all. Annie suppressed her revulsion as Litton's gaze lingered on her. Just try it you slimy git, I'll show you a few tricks the Guv taught me, she thought.
'First things first, all this mess has to go. I want everything neatly put away, all ship shape and Bristol fashion all right? I'll be supervising, from there,' he waved a hand to Gene's office.
'Oh, Officer Cartwright, fetch us a tea and biscuits would you? Ta darling.' The man turned his back on her, made his way almost daintily to Gene's office, as the members of RCS spread out among the CID, prodding and poking into action. Annie stood up, frowning.
'I can't believe the nerve of him! Ordering me around like that! Who does he think I am anyway?' she complained to Chris.
'Er, but don't the Guv an' Ray do that to yer to?' She stopped, considering for a moment.
'Well, yes. But that's different.'
'Why?'
Scratching her head, she looked down at her shoes.
'Well...because!'
Lafayette had taken them directly to the Louvre to see the scene of the crime. Sam looked around him in awe, just goggling at all the beautiful artwork. They walked by the Mona Lisa, and Sam couldn't help but stop and stare for a second.
'So dark, the con of man.' he smiled to himself.
'Oi! Major Tom! Quit yer gawping and trit trot!'
Sighing, he gathered his thoughts as he walked down the hallway to the crime scene. It was at the end of the gallery, a large empty frame surrounded by various policemen. Two mounds under white sheets told a grim story. There was a richly dressed man wearing sunglasses talking to Agent Rush as if consoling her, but she turned away from him to speak to the assembled.
'The thieves exited from a window there,' Rush said, pointing to a smashed window. He couldn't place her accent. Sounded German, maybe Swiss... He shrugged mentally.
'We believe that they came in with a crowd of tourists, hid, and then waited until the the museum was closed before they made off with the painting. Three guards surprised them, two were shot dead, one is in the hospital. He's been in and out of consciousness, but the doctors say we might be able to speak to him Friday sometime.'
'What are we doing until then?' Joe asked as he knelt by one of the bodies.
'Well we do have one lead. The tourists were mostly American, and we should have no trouble finding them. They'll be staying at the consulate.'
'Why?' Sam asked, causing all of the officers nearby to look at him.
'They're here for the Peace Accords, of course.' Lafayette said patronizingly, making Sam grit his teeth. Lovely, two coppers talking down to him. Let joy be unconfined.'Nixon has been delaying it, but the American's are finally bringing an end to the Vietnam conflict. Something,' he said dryly. 'That they should have done ten years ago.'
'Interpol has granted us diplomatic passes,' Lafayette nodded to Agent Rush, 'which give us access to the American Embassy. We are free to question, but not detain.'
'And what, pray tell, shall we do if we happen to find the bloody painting there?' said Gene as he took another swig from his flask.
Lafayette shot him an inscrutable look. 'Do nothing. Call me immediately and I'll take care of it.'
'Oh really? So that makes you the sherrif does it?' Sam could feel his muscles tense as he heard the unspoken challenge in Gene's voice.
'If you mean am I in charge of this case then yes, that is correct. Though technically Miss Rush is heading up the investigation.'
For a moment, Gene and Lafayette stood facing each other, and Sam was reminded of those Westerns Gene liked so much, where the two gunslingers squared off against each other.
Chewing on his thumbnail, he looked on, hoping that Gene remembered where he was in time.
'Bird in charge? Leave it to the French.' Gene said snidely. He turned to look at the slag in question, glancing up and down and then grinned. Slowly.
'That's Special Agent Rush or Miz Rush, Detective. Not "Miss" not "bird", "darling" or "sweetheart".' said the bird frostily, standing with her hands on her hips. Bet she had a nice arse.
'Yeah that an' all petal. Get us a cuppa would you?'
'I don't think I care for what you have to say, Detective Chief Inspector.' Lafayette annunciated, stepping closer. What, was he squaring up to him?
He smiled carelessly.
'Oh and what are you going to do about it? Make me disappear? I know what you Frenchies get up to.'
He gave the word 'disappear' a sneering twist. That got Laffey's back up, too right.
'Do not question my integrity, nor the integrity of my officers! We obey the law and protect the people in this city!'
'You know, I don't much care for you lot. Don't look like you know if you're wiping your nose or yer arse! Where was your precious protection when these poor bastards needed you?' He gestured to the bodies on the floor. 'Tell me Paulie, where were you when they needed protectin'? Eatin' truffles with your bit of skirt?' He took a long drag on his ciggie, keeping an eye on the Frenchie.
Lafayette grinned, baring his teeth.
'No. Having dinner with your wife. In bed.'
Did he just say....right then!
With a roar, the DCI barreled into Layfayette man, knocking him off his feet. Thumping him in the jools, he was satisfied to hear the other man groan, only to feel his ear grabbed and twisted back sharply. Pulling back, he wrenched it free, giving Lafayette enough room to knee him in the stomach. As the breath went out of him, he grabbed the mans shirt and threw him to the floor with his own momentum.
They were both getting their feet and closing in again when he found himself in a arm-lock.
'That's enough! That's enough Gene!' Sam's voice yelled in his ear. His fingers scrabbled at his jacket, trying to get a grip on his DI, but Sam used his free hand to twist his arm behind him.
'I said that's enough!' He grunted, heaving against the smaller man.
'Let. Go!' his said, his voice a low growl.
'I will, when you calm down!' Sam's voice was softer now, the tone he had when someone was being unreasonable. He struggled in his grasp, but much to his surprise, he couldn't break free. Gradually, his breathing slowed, his body relaxed fractionally.
'You'll regret this Sammy boy.' he muttered.
'Don't I always.' came the bitter reply.
The smaller man realeased Gene and stepped quickly back. The DCI turned, staring him down. Sam returned his glower inch for inch, his hands in loose fists at his sides, his stance wide, not a hint of apology anywhere on his face. And that more then anything made him punch him, right along the line of his jaw, making his knuckles sting as he cut his hand on the other mans teeth.
Sam rocked back on his heels, but didn't fall. Bringing up his hand, he swiped at his cut lip, shaking his head in disgust as he turned his back on him, walking out of the gallery.
Bloody Tyler.
'Hey, hey!' Sam ignored the sound of Joe's voice behind him.
'You can't go you moron, you're the only thing that's keeping Godzilla there from tearing this whole place apart!'
Shaking his head, Sam gave a bleak smile. 'Believe me, if he really wanted to tear this place up, nothing could stop him.'
'Well don't tell your boss that. He looked surprised as hell when you had him in that head lock.'
He looked at the Canadian, pleasantly suprised. 'Yeah?'
He grinned back at him. 'Oh yeah. Like a cod fisherman whose just hooked a Great White with a chainsaw.'
Sam chuckled. 'You've got a strange sense of humour.'
'Comes with being a Halligonian copper.' Joe pushed his hands into his pockets, smiling ruefully.
'What, it's that bad?'
'Let's just say when it comes to crime in my city, people tend to look the other way. Unless you're dealing in broad daylight, or you're WWB.'
'Sorry?'
'Walking While Black. But look, I didn't mean to get started on my own troubles. Did you get the deal on the painting?'
Another shake of the head. 'Too busy trying to untangle the Guv.'
'All right, let's go to a café or something an I'll fill you in.'
Sam stopped, grabing Joe's jacket as the other man eagerly made for the exit.
'Hold up, why don't we go to the hospital, check on the third guard?'
Joe gave him a disblieving stare as he turned up his collar against the day's chill.
'Come on Sam. We're here for a long time, might as well be a good time.'
Actually, wasn't it "We're here for a good time not a long time? Sam mused. Maybe that song hadn't come out yet.
'What do you mean "long time"? We're only here until we solve the case.'
'Yeah right.' Joe muttered.
'Look, it won't take a mo. We'll just nip in and out. No worries.'
Joe nodded reluctantly, and followed him. Oh if only Gene were so reasonable, then his jaw wouldn't be so sore.
The hospital was a blank white colour, like most of the hospital's Sam'd seen. They were shown to the guard's bed and then left on their own. Sam was struck once more by the disimilarities between his time and this time, when people would think twice before leaving a witness or suspect alone with coppers. Pushing aside such negative thoughts, he smiled down at the man, though he was so young he was practically a boy.
'Parle vous Anglais?' he said awkwardly.
The boy nodded painfully.
'Yes. My cousin is from England...we often go to see him.'
'Is it all right if we conduct the interview now? We can wait if you like.'
'No.' The boy sat up slowly. Joe grabbed a pillow and put it gingerly behind the guards head.
'I want to tell you. To get the men who killed Gilbert and Joseph.'
He stifeled a guilty pang. It hadn't even occured to him to ask the victiums names.
'All right. What's your name sir?'
'Alexandre.'
'Okay Alexandre. I want you to think back to the morning of the theft. What were you doing? Close your eyes if it helps.'
Alexandre did so, shutting them tightly.
'I was excited that morning because...we were getting ready for the....party next week. I took some....scones? Is that the right word?'
'It's all right Alexandre.' He spoke softly, soothingly.
Don't focus on the right words. Just relax. Tell me the details.'
'I took my brothers car because it is faster. You just have to be carefuly of the door. It swings, eh, fast.' He gestured with his hands, miming a trap swinging shut.
'Ah, suicide door.' Joe murmured. Sam exhanged a glance with him, then filed the comment away for later.
'What colour is the car?'
'It's a blue. Like the sky...just after the sun goes down. Rich...dark blue. I drove it to the Louvre.'
'What did you see on the way?'
'I saw...some tourists taking pictures.'
'What were they taking pictures of?'
'... nothing. Just flowers...in a window ledge.'
'What else do you see?' Sam changed his tense from past to present, hoping to nudge the young guard deeper into his mind.
'A man and his wife arguing. Over her mother...I think.'
'Are you at the Louvre yet?'
'No. I have to pass by the security. He asks for my pass. It's in the glove compartment. I take it out and show it to him.'
'Do you always keep it there?'
'Yes.
'What's the guards name?'
'Maxwell Graedon, or Craydon. Something..'
'So now you're at the Louvre. What do you do?'
'I park my car. My usual spot is taken, I have to park closer to the entrance. I don't like that. It means I'm have to push my way around the tourists and the other guards and people.'
'Once you're inside, then what do you do?'
'I go to the desk to check in. It's M. Marche. He's reading his magazine again, just waves as I sign the log. I start my circuit.'
'Where does your circuit start?'
'At the Masters Gallerie. Then through the hall towards Winged Victory. Then up the stairs to the Dutch paintings.'
'Do you know anything about them?'
'Not really. I like Van Gough better. The strange swirls and colours, they excite my eyes.'
'How many times did you do the circuit before you found the thieves do you think?'
'Ah...it was three? I walked up the stairs and it was dark. I tried to use my...um, talkie? But I couldn't get anyone. I drew my gun.'
'Why?'
'Because I could feel something was not right. And I was frightened.'
'Your walking towards the Dutch paintings.'
'...yes.'
'What do you see?'
'Nothing. I forgot about my flashlight. I'm going to turn it on.'
'What do you see now?'
'Something shining in the light. It's red. Something red. Paint. The flashlight moves, I see Gilbert. Gilbert is looking at me. But his eyes don't blink. He's dead.'
The boy started to shift restlessly on the bed.
'Easy now, easy. Nothing's gonna hurt you here Alex. What else do you see?'
'Joeseph. He's been shot, but he's all right!' A smile flashed on Alexandre's face.
'Where has he been shot?'
'On the leg I think...He's pointing at something behind me, shouting a word. I start to turn....No!'
'Alexandre, open your eyes! Open them!'
The boy guard does so, panting slightly.
'That was very good, very good. Relax now.' He grabbed the glass of water by the bed and held it out to the shaking man, helping him sip it.
'Don't worry, we'll catch them.'
Alexandre nodded, the colour coming back into his face.
'You said Joespeh shouted something. Do you remember what it was?'
'No. But he must have been warning me. What else could it have been?'
Sam nodded, patting the boys hand. 'All right Alexandre. If you remember anything, let us know'
They turned to go, Joe waved as he did so.
'If you remember anything, call Inspector Layfayette.'
Walking out of the hospital Joe sighed.
'Ready for that cafe now?'
'Yeah I could do with some coffee.'
'I was thinking about something stronger then that.'
'This is France Joe.'
'And?' The Canadian looked at him challangingly. Sam smiled.
'I'm sure we can find someplace that does both.'
'Good point.'
Joe took a swig from his wine glass, smacking his lips as he set it down.
'So...the painting. It's called "The Two Lovers", and it was painted in 1693 by the Dutch painter Hendrik Cornelis. Miss Rush, sorry, Miz Rush told us a lot of stuff about him, but that's not important right now.' he waved his hand indicating the trivialness of the painters history.
'The painting itself is a nighttime scene, a woman in purple robes and dark hair, reaching out to the moon outside her window. Out the window, there's a tower and a little blond girl looking out of the topmost window. Caused some scandal when it first came out because it was thought that the woman and the little girl were lovers. But Cornelius explained that it was the moon and the woman, not the girl and the woman.'
Joe waved his arms as he took another sip of wine.
'Golly Molly this is a nice red! Anyway, it's supposed to be pretty valuable, worth around 20,000 dollars, the painting that is, not the wine.'
Pausing, he looked at Sam.
'How much is that in pounds? Anyhow, the American's and the French want this thing tidied up within the week, because otherwise it could create another international incident.'
Sam nodded as he finished a cream tart, bemused at the other man's chatter. Then he frowned.
'Another incident?'
Joe nodded.
'Yeah, don't you read the papers? October last year, American bombers hit the French consulate during a raid on Hanoi.'
His felt his eyes widen as Joe nodded grimly. 'Yeah, great isn't it?
'Bascially, the talks are finished, but Nixon keeps lollygagging around finalizing them. These poor bastards have been up to Paris seven times already this year.'
He drained the glass and set it down with a sigh.
'So basically, even though we have only one lead, and everyone's ready to tear each other's throats out, we've got five days to solve an art theft.'
Sitting back, the other copper pulled thoughtfully at his lip.
'You know, we should speak to Monsieur Miske.'
'Miske?' Sam reached for another cream tart, taking a bite out of it.
'Well, according to my flyer here,' he waggled it under Sam's nose.
'He's the one who smuggled the painting out of Paris in the first place during the war. He might even know who'd have an interest in it. After all, he was at the Louvre today. Must be looking out for his old investment.'
'Which one was he?'
'The expensive looking one with the sunglasses? Spent a lot of time trying to chat up Miz Rush?'
'Ah.' Finishing the last of the tarts, Sam brushed off his hands.
'So. Where do you think we should start first? The embassy or Miske?'
The Canadian shook his head, then grinned.
'I know!'
He reached into his pocket and fumbled around, picking out a small silver coin.
'Heads for Miske, tails for the embassy.'
He flipped the coin high in the air, only for it to be caught by a large dark haired man. The man stared at Joe. The other man grinned plesantly back.
'Can I help you?'
'Nous ne vous voulons pas l'Américain dedans ici. Disparaissent la trouvaille quelque part autrement à manger. Peut-être l'étable de porc la plus proche.'
The man laughed, the laughter echoed around the room. Not friendly laugher either. Shooting Joe a look, Sam raised his eyebrow.
'It's nothing, just a misunderstanding. You know any French?'
'Ah..not really.'
Nodding, Joe turned to the Frenchman.
'Tout d'abord, moi et mon ami sont manger tout à fait heureux ici. En second lieu de tous, je suis un Canadien et il est un Anglais. Pourquoi ne vous asseyez-vous pas et est-ce que je vous achèterai une boisson?'
The Frenchman grinned grimly.
'Pourquoi est-ce que je boirais avec vous le menteur Américain ? Tous que vous l'Américain savent est comment combattre. Continuez ainsi, me combattent.'
He shoved Joe.
'Continuez-vous maintenant, ou allez-vous courir parti comme un petit enfant ?'
Shove. Sam didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, it didn't look good.
'Avez-vous le courage de me combattre ?'
Slowly, Joe stood up, straightening his jacket, and brushed past the Frenchman to the jukebox in the corner. Putting in a coin, he pushed a button and turned around, closing his eyes, listening to the music. The Doors 'Break on Through.'
The Frenchman walked towards him, anger dark in his face as Sam stood up, ready to help his collegue.
As the guitar thrummed, the man stared at Joe in disbelief as the Canadian nodded his head in time to the music, ignoring him. Finally unable to take it anymore, the man drew back his head to hit Joe, only to hit the jukebox as the blond man ducked under his arm. Grinning, Joe beckoned him forward as the man clutched at his hand in pain.
'May I have this dance?'
chapter three.