The Mandylion – First Chapter
Delayed boarding, and a long taxiing queue before an evening departure should’ve made me tired enough to sleep on the overnight Air France flight from JFK to Paris. Instead, I dozed fitfully, mostly listening to Anthony and Basso snore in their Business Class seats. Arriving the next morning at Charles de Gaulle Airport, a rainy day snarled traffic and our taxi took an hour to arrive at our boutique hotel not far from the Arc de Triomphe and a few blocks off the Champs de Elysée. While flying had lost its allure, I admit a sense of excitement on my first visit to the City of Lights. The adrenaline rush moderated the jet lag and lack of sleep that threatened to grab me by the eyes. Thankfully, Anthony arranged for us to have early access to our rooms. Tastefully decorated in gray and white, my tiny accommodation had me pitying Basso who must’ve felt claustrophobic in his space. Thankfully, the room had a shower, and after a change of clothes, I’d recovered to feel nearly human. I met the guys in a lobby decorated with French tapestry and Louis XIV chairs and sofa.
I’d done some touristy homework, and my preference would’ve been to head for either Avenue Montaigne or Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré to check out the designer boutiques and showrooms – despite the likelihood I couldn’t afford even a change purse, but Sophia had texted Anthony insisting we come to a brasserie near the Louvre.
As the three of us taxied to the meeting, Anthony’s face looked tense. No more imagining, he was about to see Sophia again. His obsession with her versus his love for Nori. I felt a pang of jealousy that I never enjoyed either emotion over anyone.
To take him out of himself, I asked, “How do you plan to play this?”
Shaken out of his musings, his response was clipped. “As straightforwardly as possible, considering that Sophia will no doubt immerse us into her labyrinth of intrigue. She’s not carrying artwork to a restaurant, so let’s see if she wants to reveal where it’s stashed.”
“I presume she’s chosen a public place to avoid disclosing her residence.”
“Perhaps.” He sighed. “Although, with Sophia, logic rarely rules.”
The rain had become a cool mist and muscular clouds passed over us as we stepped from the taxi onto Rue de Rivoli. As we approached the café, Sophia rose from a streetside table under a green awning.
True to what Nori said about her attractiveness, Sophia had an exotic face, curvy figure, and black hair down to her waist. She wore a plunging blue dress that stopped at her thighs. The woman oozed sexuality like beehive honey.
Beaming at Anthony, she said in her Greek accented, sultry voice, “Welcome to Paris.”
Anthony extended his hand, but Sophia stepped close and greeted him with a tender kiss on his cheek, pressing her body to his. I frowned at the display. He gave me an uncomfortable glance like, hey, it’s just a kiss. The nuns who raised me would’ve advised him to avoid the occasion of sin.
Sophia greeted Basso like an old friend with a peck on the cheek. He returned a wry smile. The big guy wasn’t buying her act.
She took both my hands in hers, holding on longer than necessary as she looked me over. I didn’t return her sly smile.
“You’re so lovely, Valentina. I’m delighted to meet you.”
“I feel like I already know you.” This woman played people for sport, and I wanted to keep her at arm’s length.
She chuckled. “Later, you must tell me all about how you became Anthony’s sister.”
She insisted on sitting thigh to thigh next to Anthony at a marble top table. Basso and I took wicker chairs opposite. Cars and bicycles whooshed past on the damp asphalt. I caught a furtive glance from a man in Arabic dress standing at a nearby kiosk. He briskly walked away without purchasing a newspaper. On the street, a heavyset man with a scraggly red beard in a black raincoat lingered between parked cars before catching my glance and turning aside. Men looking at me was nothing new, but I recalled that Sophia had sounded frightened on her phone call to Anthony. Was she being followed? Now by association, would we be as well? Perhaps the mystery surrounding why we’d come to Paris made me too wary. On the other hand, only the paranoid survive.
A clean-shaven waiter in a black coat, white shirt, and bow tie walked over. Sophia took control, ordering us all petit coffees in fluent French. I detected the bouquet of fresh croissants, which gave me an instant craving, but we weren’t there to eat pastry, so I stayed silent.
When the waiter left, Sophia said to Anthony, “You look as fit and handsome as ever.”
To his credit, Anthony didn’t rise to flattery, saying, “We should discuss the point of our visit.”
Sophia feigned disappointment. “Why be in such a rush? You’ve just arrived in Paris.” She turned to me. “I’m sure Valentina would enjoy a little sightseeing and shopping. Since moving here, I’ve become quite the insider and would be delighted to show you around.”
The waiter returned with four small white cups and each of us a glass of water.
As she brought the coffee to her lips, I detected a slight tremor in Sophia’s hand. Her eyes darted above the cup, and I followed their direction discovering that the Arab and the heavyset man had returned to watch us. They didn’t appear to be working together, but both kept shooting glances toward our table. Their presence gave me reason to share Sophia’s nervousness. I thought to tell Basso and Anthony, but why hadn’t Sophia spoken? Was she suggesting tourism hoping to shake her surveillance?
Anthony said, “We’ll have plenty of time to look around and far more money to spend once we’ve earned our million-dollar fee for authenticating your artwork. Where’s the piece you want me to examine?”
“Don’t you want to finish your coffee?” she asked.
Anthony drained his cup, then clinked it onto the saucer. “Shall we go?”
Sophia demurred. “Matters have become a bit more complicated since we spoke.”
Snidely, Anthony asked, “Why aren’t I surprised?”
Sophia covered Anthony’s wedding ring hand with slender fingers – her nails bright red. A dagger tattoo pointed down her middle finger. “Please be patient with me, darling.”
Anthony looked miffed but didn’t remove her hand from his. “You brought us to Paris as some sort of prank?”
She moved closer. “No, darling. Your presence is most necessary. And welcome.”
“You want to tell me your game?”
Her eyes welled. “I’m in danger.”
Basso had sat slumped, as if bored by the drama he was witnessing, but at the mention of peril, he perked up to ask, “You worried about those two jamokes who’ve been eyeing us since we sat down?”
Sophia gave him a short nod.
“Relax. If they wanted to grab you, you wouldn’t have made it to the restaurant,” he said matter-of-factly. “Assassins would come at you on motorcycles, not on foot.”
I should’ve known that Basso would’ve spotted the threat. His calmness took some edge off my nervousness.
I said, “I presume these two guys didn’t just show up today? Why haven’t you done something about them stalking you?”
“I’m a woman on my own. You should understand. Who could I trust to protect me? The police are only interested after a crime is committed, and I wouldn’t want private security to know my business. My pursuits might not be,” she concluded with a sigh, “one hundred percent above board.”
The penny dropped for Anthony. “People are following you who want the artifact and hope you’ll lead them to the prize.”
Sophia said, “Yes, but…”
Anthony finished her sentence. “They wouldn’t hesitate to kill you in the process.”
Sophia squeezed his hand. “I knew you’d understand.”
Anthony pulled away, saying with disgust. “Now that you invited us to this fishbowl, they’ve seen us, and we’ve joined you in the jackpot.”
Sophia implored. “Just your presence might be enough for nothing to happen.”
Anthony scoffed. “Bullshit. Who are they?”
She shrugged. “Among the interested parties.”
Of course, she knew more than she was telling us.
Anthony sounded incredulous. “You mean there are more suitors than just these two?”
Sophia spoke intently. “The artwork I’m seeking is incredibly valuable, and I’m not speaking only of money. That level of desirability draws a crowd.”
“Wait a second,” Anthony said, his voice rising, “you’re ‘seeking’ the piece? You don’t have it?”
“When we spoke on the phone, I thought I’d have the item when you arrived in Paris. I ran into a timing issue.”
Anthony gave me a look of exasperation. Basso slowly shook his head. We three rose from the table.
“Wait. I want you to meet someone.”
“Big surprise,” Anthony said sarcastically. “Who?”
“An official at the Louvre.”
“We’re not helping you steal anything from the Louvre.”
Sophia placed some money on the table and stood. “We’re just a block away. What have you got to lose?”
Anthony looked at Basso and me in turn. When someone suggests you have nothing to lose, worry you’re about to push all your chips into the pot. On the other hand, a stop at the Louvre was de rigueur while touring Paris. I shrugged acceptance and we followed.
Our two watchers trailed a short distance behind.
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