Let's make a story!

[jeanie g.]

Phillipe glanced at Mark before he spoke. "It was a foolish hope, and now I've put you in terrible danger. Jacques is more powerful than you could ever guess. Oh, Jessi, I'm truly sorry..." The look on his face was one of pure sadness.

Mark winced when he heard his pet name for Jessica used by another man, but said nothing.

Phillipe continued. "I think you've guessed by now that I was heavily indebted to some drug dealers. I had run out of excuses for needing money, and felt I could no longer ask Mother and Father for such huge sums. My tuition was paid, and I had closets full of clothes. If I'd sold my car, it would have been a pittance, of no more value than a tear used to raise the level of the ocean. I was to pay or die."
"Jacques had earned the trust of the dealers and had paid some lackeys to smuggle drugs from Colombia. When we faked my death, I went to the South of France, and bit by bit, Jacques became more powerful than any of my former enemies. They are gone, and he is the most powerful drug lord in Quebec. But his greed has no boundaries. He knows a private collector who would give anything for a lost Monet."

The darkness under Phillipe's eyes added ten years to the thirty-one he had lived. It was obvious that his repentance was genuine. More gently, Jessica asked, "Why did your parents agree to all of this?"

"They didn't know the truth until DNA evidence was used to open several cases with questionable evidence. Mine was one of them. Jacques informed me, and I returned several months later with a story of needing time to "find myself." My parents were so glad to see me they believed it. Jessica, they are the real owners of the collection, despite what Jacques told you. Only if they die will we inherit it. I'm in fear for their lives, as well as yours."

"Mark, I think we need to inform Daniela what has been going on. Her legal background should help us now. Use a pay phone, please. And Phillipe, are you willing to tape what you have told us? We need documentation of all of this, in case of our deaths. I have failed to find the Monet because I've been looking in the wrong place. The bulk of the collection is not on display. Can you return separately about a half an hour before close tonight? There is supposed to be a thick fog. That will help you to come without being seen. Enter the museum and hide until the doors are locked. After the guard turns off the main lights, he will use the elevator to check each floor. Meet me at the steps leading to the basement. We'll find the Monet tonight. Please, both of you, be careful not to be seen." She looked at Mark with love in her eyes, but only pity and old memories for Phillipe.

Late that night, in the dim light of the closed museum, three figures started down the basement stairs.

 

[valanhb]

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Jessica would have laughed at the thought of three of them in black clothes with flashlights in a basement. How cliche. She opened the locked door to the storage rooms, and then held a little huddle.

"Both of you know enough about art to know a Monet when you see it, and you know what the subject is - a foursome of kittens playing in a meadow. Not typical Monet fare, but his style should be obvious. These are supposed to be organized in some fashion, but I'm not sure about specifics. I think it is either by owner or by year acquired by the museum. We'll split up to cover the area quicker. Let me know if you find anything."

The two men nodded, then the three scattered into different areas. Jessica quickly found that the storage hadn't truly been organized in quite a while, with many items in the wrong place, some just stuck in randomly. Finally, she found a stash of Monets. This was the right set of paintings, but the kittens were not there. God help them all if they couldn't find it.

She sat down on the floor, dejected. If it wasn't in the correct place, they would have to go through thousands of paintings one by one. That could take days, maybe weeks, and she knew Jacques wasn't going to wait that long.

Just then, Phillipe can rushing up. "I think I found it."

 

[jeanie g.]

The two started towards the aisle where Phillipe had been searching, when the room was flooded with light. Jessica whispered "It's probably the guard. I'll make some logical excuse. Find a place to hide."

Mark had come running towards the pair, but quickly tucked himself behind a large cabinet. Jessica turned off her flashlight and walked as confidently as she could toward the stairway. "Pierre?" Her voice was soft and sounded natural. "Is that you? I was studying some of these works under a special light we have, and the room lights were...." Her voice trailed off as she approached the first step. There was no one walking down the stairs. Pierre wouldn't be that careless. He would walk down each aisle if he suspected there was a thief in the area. Perhaps he had stopped at the rest room. No, there was no light shining under the door.

Jessica started up the stairs. Despite the pounding she felt in her chest, she was determined to sound and appear natural. The main floor barely glowed in the dim light. She called out as her foot hit the top step, "Pierre? Were you looking for me? I stayed a little late tonight. I was in the basement cataloging some paintings--"

As she turned the corner to the main floor, Jessica became acutely aware that it was not the guard who had turned on the lights. A figure, much taller and more svelte than the paunchy Pierre, stood in the shadows near the main breaker box. He snapped his head around in time to see a figure turn and run towards the South wing of the huge building. Jessica did not look back. She took every turn she could, knowing she was far enough ahead that he couldn't be sure where she was. Then she stopped in front of the elevator and hit the "up" button frantically. "Thank God!," she gasped as the doors opened immediately. She stepped in, and pressed six. The doors closed, and Jessica finally collapsed on the floor, gasping.

 

[valanhb]

It seemed like slow motion when the doors opened again. Jessica's gaze traversed the man at the opening doors until her eyes settled on his face. There was nothing she could do but sit there and stare at him.

"Pierre called me immediately when he saw you were still here, and with some help I see." Jacques eyes were cold as steel, and just as hard.

"What? You don't think I would hold up my end?"

"I trust no one Mlle. Jessica. You should learn to do the same. You still think my brother, your precious Phillipe, isn't in the business?"

"But he..."

"You are truly stupid for all that book-smarts you have," he snarled. "You had better hope he hasn't already disappeared again with my painting."

The elevator doors opened in the basement and Jacques yanked Jessica to her feet.

"Find them," he whispered. "And do not tell them I am here."

 

[jeanie g.]

"Why not? I asked for their help! You want the painting and I want to go home. Phillipe contacted me for old times' sake, and the three of us had dinner together. I knew Phillipe could help find the painting, and I invited Mark so he would know everything was strictly business. So we met here tonight, but I haven't found anything yet."

"You must think I'm as naive as you to believe that! You would not have run from me if you had nothing to fear. You are not a good liar, Jessica." He sounded amused, almost happy that she was not cooperating. But just as quickly he repeated in a hard, cold voice. "You heard me; find them!"

"Jacques, we are getting closer, but I assure you I have not found the painting. I had no idea who was standing in the shadows; I was running to find Pierre!" Her voice had the timbre of truth; she had not seen the Monet. Phillipe had said he thought he'd found it, but he did not have her education. "Mark! Phillipe! Any luck?" She hoped the two men had been close enough to hear the conversation and would act accordingly. She had some concern about the remark Jacques had made about Phillipe. Yet the look of sadness on his face when he recounted the past reminded her of the young man she had known years before.

"Jessica, I'm over here. Is there someone with you? Where's Phillipe?" Mark approached and gave Jacques a dark look. "How are we supposed to find a rare painting with you lurking around? And where's your brother? My guess is you sent him to spy on us."

Jessica tried to sound casual, "Oh, Mark, he's in the back room looking at some works that might be by Monet. I have my doubts though; his students show his influence in their works...." Before she could say more, Mark rushed toward the back room. "I don't trust him, Jessica. He fooled you before!" Jacques ran past Mark, and Mark caught Jessica's eye. Even across the room she could see a quick wink.

 

[valanhb]

"Psst, Jessica!" The whisper came from almost right behind her. "Is it safe?"

"Yes, he's gone for now."

Phillipe stood and held up an unmistakable Monet. It was the lost kitten painting. Jessica stood dumbfounded for a moment, appreciating the painting, then suddently snapped back to the present.

"What do we do?" she asked urgently.

"That new man of yours has a few tricks up his sleeves yet. I think the outcome will be clear in only a few minutes. I will be in the shadows."

More tricks up his sleeve? What the heck did that mean? Jessica was getting very nervous. She wasn't used to not knowing what was going on, and having some kind of control over the situation.

Just then, she heard footsteps on the floor above - a lot of footsteps, running. She could trace the route these people were taking and knew that in just a minute or so they would be down the stairs and in the warehouse.

 

[jeanie g.]

Jessica's eyes were glued to the stairs. Phillipe hurriedly slipped the painting between two landscapes by lesser artists, and quickly slipped back behind some fifteenth century cathedral doors. She glanced at him with questioning eyes, when a voice thundered down the stairs and into the storage rooms.

"Step forward and identify yourselves!" Other men followed the owner of the voice, and they all wore the unmistakable uniform of the Provincial Police of Quebec. Jacques and Mark stepped out of the back room and Jessica stayed near the base of the steps. Jacques answered in French, "L'officier, ce que est le proble'me?"

"In English, please, officer," Mark requested.

"We received an anonymous call that there was a burglary in progress. I have ten men with me so I suggest that you, Mlle, and your friends offer an explanation. Why are you here?"

Jessica quickly identified herself and the two men, and informed the officer in charge that Jacques' family owned the collection she was studying. The officer checked their IDs and the Americans' passports and seemed to be satisfied. Pierre came running down the steps and verified Jessica's story. Jacques said nothing.

Jessica turned to the officer and apologized. "I can only assume that it was a practical joke, officer. I'm so sorry you have been put to this trouble. It is late, however, so I think it best that my friends and I go home."
Jacques started to speak, but thought better of it. Phillipe had probably left. There was no reason for him to dodge the police.

The group ascended the stairs together, and while Jacques furthur assured the officer in French that there were no burglars present, Pierre spoke with the others, and Jessica and Mark slipped down a hall to a back exit and walked down the back street hurriedly. Jessica's fear dissipated gradually, and she finally spoke- with her voice colored with humor, "Mark, I assume you had something to do with this? You called the police on your own girlfriend? And thank God you did." She laughed. "Two questions: How did you manage that, and what's the real story on Phillipe?"

 

[valanhb]

Mark held her off until they got back to the hotel room. Much to her surprise, Phillipe was waiting for them in the lobby. Even more to her surprise, Mark and Phillipe gave each other a high-five. Phillipe offered to buy a late dinner and drinks.

"Can someone explain what just happened back there?" Jessica asked, dumbfounded.

"Well," Phillipe started, "Mark here apparently made all the right connections to get us all out of a pinch. I just supplied the information."

"Jessi, did you know that Daniela is a Federal Prosecutor? Well, I gave her a ring the other day and she started doing some digging on our friend Jacques. Turns out, he's a very popular individual but no one has been able to pin anything on him. She's been working with the Canadian Police and I've been letting her know what's going on here."

"But that's just the beginning of what happened tonight," Phillipe interrupted. "I overheard Jacques talking with Pierre earlier this week, so I knew our search party wouldn't go unnoticed. But when I heard him talking to his lackeys about what should happen after you turn over the painting I had to do something. You didn't give us much time to save all of our lives, you know, insisting we do this tonight. I know you can't act and you can't lie, so I told Mark what was going on."

"Yeah, and Daniela set it up with the Police that if I called with this certain code, they would be there immediately. As soon as you heard someone, I called them because we knew it was Jacques."

"You played it perfect tonight, my dear." The last words got a little sharp look from Mark, but not enough to spoil the mood. "See, if you had known that Jacques meant to have us all killed when he got the painting, you wouldn't have handled the police so well, or Jacques himself!"

"So, my dear, now we just have to set up the sting operation to put Jacques where he belongs."

Jessica was becoming infected with their jubilation. That happens when you don't realize how close to death you actually were. But something still bothered her, and she needed the answer before going any further.

"Now, wait a minute. Phillipe, he is your brother. He told me you were in the business...what is going on with you?"

 

[jeanie g.]

The three followed the maitre d'hotel into a quiet and dimly lit corner of the restaurant, and while they sipped a glass of wine, Phillipe answered Jessica's questions. The elegance surrounding them had no effect on this handsome man, but even the subdued lighting could not hide the lines of concern on his face.

"Jessica, I have already told Mark..I am no angel, as my brother would be happy to tell you. But I have not used drugs since you last saw me. When I came home, Jacques made it clear that he expected me to oversee some 'shipments,' to find people who intended to visit Colombia, and make significant offers to respectable people, people who had been honest all of their lives. Most often, these people had no idea that the special doll I wanted for my niece or hand made crafts I wanted as gifts for my friends might be filled with well disguised drugs. They seldom got caught because I chose them carefully, teachers on vacation, missionaries who were rather naive...They never knew my real name, but I knew theirs. This afternoon I supplied the police with these names. If any have been arrested, they will get new trials, and I will testify on their behalf."

"How could you do such.." Jessica's question was stopped by a gentle finger to her lips. Mark said nothing; his trust in Phillipe was now complete.

"Let me finish, and you'll understand. My parents are relatively young people, intelligent, but not street wise. They have always been wealthy, and have provided everything we could have wanted. As bright as they are, they never suspected that Jacques could want even more, and.." Phillipe's voice became slower, as if every word was painful, "be willing to kill them to get it. I couldn't let that happen. I've been waiting for my chance to get out of this and protect them as well. You've provided that opportunity, Jessi. The police have promised a suspended sentence for information and cooperation, and they will have it. I have already given them Jacques' 'business' book and financial records. Now he will be caught in the act itself. Mark and I will see to it."

"You and Mark? Haven't you forgotten someone? I got Mark involved in this, and I'll see it through! I'm not a shrinking violet, and both of you should know it! Now, what part do we play in the sting?"

 

[valanhb]

"Don't worry Jessi," Mark said with a grin. "You play an integral role in this, but not in the dangerous part. We won't have you there for the actual sting."

"I can take care of myself," she protested. "You know I just helped catch a jewel thief!"

"All well and good, but Jacques is no jewel thief," Phillipe said with a determination she hadn't ever seen before. "He's a cold blooded killer, and I have no doubt he won't be captured without a fight. I have a feeling someone will lose their life in this mess, and I won't have it be yours."

"Jessi," Mark said, "Daniela has obviously put us in contact with the police, but they need to catch him red-handed. They are working on search warrants based on a statement Phillipe gave them over the phone, but it could take days or weeks for those to come through. They want to catch him leaving the museum with the Monet. We need to get a good night's rest and we will have everything set up by tomorrow night."

Jessica slept fitfully. The feeling of foreboding that Phillipe had mentioned was infecting her as well. All she could do was pray that they all came out of this in one piece. When she met up with Mark and Phillipe for lunch, the air of jubilation of the night before was gone. They explained the plan as well as contingency plans Mark had worked up with the police. They really had thought of everything.

 

[jeanie g.]

Somehow lunch did not seem very important to Jessica as Phillipe began to tell her the details of the sting. She sipped a cup of tea absent mindedly, but was not even aware that she was doing so. Phillipe and Mark, two very dear friends, were in danger. The Boulanger parents' lives depended on this plan, and so did hers. Phillipe began by explaining that he had spent the night at home-for two reasons, to protect his parents and to allay any suspicion Jacques had about his presence at the museum.

"Jacques has not noticed his books are missing. They were duplicates, of course, but still in Jacques' own handwriting. The police will begin to gather more evidence as soon as Jacques is behind bars. I would imagine he backs up his figures on Fridays, so we will have to act before he discovers the second set is missing."

"Jessica, you will call Jacques tonight and inform him that the painting has been found, and arrange to meet him at the museum. Call very late so that he will not insist that you go there until after closing tomorrow."

"The telephone company has arranged that all calls to Monsieur Carpentier, the art collector, will be directed to the detective bureau. The secretary to the chief detective will answer that phone as if she were an employee, and put the detective on the line. He will insist upon a meeting with Jacques tomorrow evening at the restaurant around the corner. It's small and quiet. Of course, Monsieur Carpentier, in reality, Detective Moulier, will arrest him on the spot for grand theft."

Mark interrupted. "You'll be safe at the museum, Jessi. I will be in the back basement room. There will be a tiny microphone hidden in the frame of the painting itself, and a small receiver in the back room and the men's rest room, where a police officer will be hidden. Just give him the Monet, and let him go. Another officer will be waiting outside, and will follow him to the restaurant and guard the entrance. He won't get away."

"And Phillipe?", Jessica interrupted.

"I will accompany you to the museum, Jessi." Phillipe gazed at her eyes and touched her hand gently as he spoke in a soft and reassuring tone. "We can't have you alone with him, not for a minute."

"That's completely unnecessary! I am not a helpless, pathetic..."

"Tomorrow night, Jessi, tomorrow night." Mark looked at her with such love she said nothing, not for now, at least...

 

[valanhb]

At 10:00 that evening Jessica made the call to Jacques. She told him that she had stayed late at the museum and had in fact located the painting.

"And you are still at the museum?" Jacques asked accusingly.

"No, I came back to the hotel. It's late and I hadn't eaten yet. If you've waited this long you can certainly wait one more day." Jessica shot back. She had had enough of his intimidation games, especially now that this was almost over.

"You are mistaken, madame. I cannot wait one more day. You will go back to the museum tonight and retrieve the painting. You will then bring the painting to 556 Rue du Leon. You will be there in one hour."

"For goodness sake, Jacques! I need to eat my dinner, I just ordered room service."

"No excuses, Jessi," he said with a snarl. This impetuous brat was irritating him, and he didn't like to be irritated. "One hour!"

The phone slammed in her ear. She looked at Mark incredulously.

"Well, so much for the best laid plans." Then she explained the situation to him.

"Oh Lord, Jessi. This wasn't supposed to happen at all! Let me make a few phone calls and we'll see what we can come up with. Here," he handed her a cell phone, "hit redial and call Phillipe and let him know what's going on."

"Mark, I have to leave NOW if I'm going to get the painting there in an hour."

"Fine, then we go. I'll make the calls on the way."

The pair flew out of the hotel and hailed a cab for the museum. Once there she picked up the painting and snuck it out in a trash bag out the back door. Once in the cab, she looked at the painting and marveled once again at the workmanship. It was a beautiful painting, and the thought of using it to trap a criminal broke her heart. What if something happened to it? The world would lose a priceless treasure.

 

[jeanie g.]

Rue du Leon-Jessica pondered the name. It didn't translate. Did she misunderstand Lion for Leon? Street of the Lion- It would be an apropos name for a beast like Jacques, but she didn't dare take the chance. The police, everyone, would be going to the address Mark gave them. She asked the driver to rush. There was no microphone in the frame, no Mark hiding in a back room, and no policemen guarding her and the painting. And she had no way of knowing what arrangements Mark had made. Where was Phillipe? A beautiful plan had splintered, like a tree hit by lightening!

"Here you are, Mlle. Are you sure this is the right place?" Jessica was startled as his voice broke her concentration. She nodded, hesitantly. The driver pointed to a huge warehouse, dark and apparently abandoned. The St.Lawrence River looked black as it flowed slowly within a few hundred yards of the street... It seemed like an ominous sign. "Would you like me to wait?"

Jessica hesitated briefly, then thought it best to err on the side of caution. "Please drive up to the next block and watch for me. I might be coming back out in a matter of minutes. If I'm not back within twenty minutes, just leave. My friend is probably in a back office."

"But Mlle., the place is deserted.."

"Twenty minutes," Jessica repeated. That would still give her time to take the cab to Rue du Lion, if there had been an error. She would soon find out. There was only a sliver of a moon now. It barely glistened on the dark river. Jessica had seldom felt so alone.
She paid the driver and approached the darkened building.

As the cab drove away, she felt a chill that touched her spine and made her heartbeat quicken. Gradually, her eyes became accustomed to the dark. Yet, as she looked for an entrance, she saw no cars or people. Where were the police? And Mark? Oh my Lord, was she alone? What would Jacques do if she was not on time? Jessica clutched the trash bag in her left hand and approached what appeared to be an office door. She opened it slowly. A step of faith, she thought, as she turned the knob and found that the door was unlocked.
She felt certain now that Jacques was waiting somewhere in the blackness in front of her.

 

[valanhb]

The match strike startled her, and the bright flame distinctly showed the outline of Jacques' face, and briefly, the outline of three more men standing behind him, before the cigarette dulled the flame. A bit overdramatic, perhaps, but it did have the desired effect.

"You're late, Mlle." Jacques said and Jessica instinctively looked at her watch. It was 11:01.

"I suppose that depends on whose watch you're looking at." She was scared stiff, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

"I assume you brought it, otherwise you shouldn't have come at all."

"Of course I have it. What will happen to it now?"

"Really,it is none of you business what I do with what is rightfully mine. It won't be destroyed, if that's what you are asking. Now give it to Francois."

Relunctantly, she handed the bag over to the burly man who stepped out from behind Jacques. All she could see was their outlines, no matter how hard she strained. It would be impossible to identify any of them besides Jacques later. The bag was given to Jacques to walked to the far end of the room, took out a penlight and peered into the bag with it.

"Very good, Jessica. You have followed your instructions well. Now, we should discuss the conditions of this exchange. I hope you have not been so foolish as to notify the police of our exchange. If you have, call them off before it is too late. I will let you live on your agreement of complete silence. You had a nice holiday in Canada, and that's all anyone needs to know. If I am arrested in connection with this, I have standing orders that you and Mark, as well as your parents will be killed. Do you understand Jessica?"

"What happens to Phillipe?"

"Phillipe will go on with me, business as usual. It is only because of him that you even have this option. Do you agree to this arrangement?"

 

[jeanie g.]

Jessica didn't know whether to stall, run, or give up. She knew she was no longer needed, and if Jacques thought he could get away with killing her...Finally she spoke.

"Jacques, I'll be glad to just go home and never see any of you again, but I don't want repercussions. What if the curator of the museum realizes what I've done? I'll never get a job in my field again, and... oh, yes, I meant to tell you there is a tear in the canvas that might devalue the Monet." She knew she was rambling, but tried to keep her voice as arrogant as he expected from her. Every word gave her another fraction of a second to think. Too much friendliness would seem suspicious. "Let me show you the rip. It's really quite small..."

Jacques glared at Jessica, but nodded, and Francois handed the plastic bag to Jessica. She snapped, "I can't even see it. Turn a light on, at least. This is so childish. I did my job. Your precious painting is right here, and I have wasted weeks of my..."

"I suggest you say no more, Mlle., or I'll forget I'm a gentleman. There is no electricity."

"Well then" she answered, with an air of disgust, "let's go outside where there is some light." With that, Jessica walked slowly to the door, and just as Francois grabbed for her, she bolted. The door was still open a crack, and she knew it opened out towards the street. She rammed the palm of her hand into Francois' face, and before anyone could move, followed that with a kick to his groin. She was out the door before he could recover. But all Jessica knew was that he would be immediately behind her, so she did what she thought they would least suspect. She leaped into the adjoining lot, where the neglect of years had allowed weedy bushes to take over. She watched as Jacques ordered his lackeys to search the street in two directions. Then, as his back was turned, she put the precious painting deep within the bushy undergrowth of a yew, praying that she had not damaged it.

The darkness that had been so frightening only minutes before seemed like a comforting cloak to her now. Yet, her breathing came in loud gasps, and she wondered how Jacques failed to hear it. There was nothing in sight except the taxi, its parking lights still glowing. It looked like the salvation of a vengeful Norse god, tempting, but distant.

 

[whisker's mom]

Stephane heard the shouts before he was even able to distinguish the figures of the men running past his taxi. "What the?" he thought to himself. Before he even had a chance to try to understand what was happening, his front passenger door was flung open and Mlle was yelling at the top of her lungs. "DRIVE!!!!!!".

Stephane stepped on the gas and was just about ready to speed off into the night when a figure appeared before them. The sound of the body hitting the windshield caused Jessica to jump right out of her seat. She glanced into the eyes that were glaring right at her. Jacques... He was pounding on the windshield and Jessica knew right then and there that this windshield was the only thing sparing her her life right now. For that, she was thankful.

"Hang on Mlle, I think we shall give this gentleman a ride for his money", Stephane reassured her calmly. He had no idea what all this was about but, for some reason, he knew he had to act fast or else this lady's life, and maybe even his own, was in jeopardy.

Slamming on his brakes, Stephane unsuccessfully tried to shake him off. Time to pick up speed, he thought to himself. After a quick glance at Mlle and noticing that she did not look well at all, Stephane floored it and sped off down the street. For the life of him, he could not comprehend how this man was holding on.

Stephane glanced back for a second and when he returned his gaze to the road, he was startled by what appeared to be 2 figures just feet away. Giving the steering wheel a quick jerk to the right, he realized that the vehicle was out of control. "Dear God..." he prayed. The last thing Stephane heard was the crash as his car barreled into the guard rail. The last thing he saw was the body of the man being flung into the air and falling into what appeared to be his destination: the St. Lawrence.

Jessica had no time to think. She heard someone scream. A piercing scream. She did not realize it was her own. She felt a sharp pain go through her left shoulder and then...the darkness hit her.

 

[valanhb]

Light, bright white light. Then a voice, fuzzy but familiar.

"Jessi? Oh my God - get the nurse! Nurse! She's waking up!"

All of a sudden there were what seemed like hundreds of people swarming. "Check her....What's the....She's at...." They were all talking at once. Finally in the blur one figure stood out, began coming into focus. Mark was standing at the head of the bed, holding her hand with tears streaming down his face. One of the nurses told he must step back and let them do their jobs. Darkness again, but not black this time. Gray, a bluish gray that felt warm and comfortable.

The next time she woke, all was quiet. Her focus came back in a little better and she could see Phillipe and her parents in the corner of the room talking in hushed voices. Mark was still at her side, sitting now with his head in the crook of his arm, holding her hand. She tried to speak his name, but all that came out was a little "Eep". Mark looked up, and smiled at her.

"Could someone get Jessi some ice?" he said quietly. Jessica's mother buzzed out of the room and returned in moments with a cup of crushed ice.

Jessica tried to move her arm to hold the cup, but her hands felt so heavy. Mark put a small piece of ice in her mouth.

"You gave us quite a scare. You've been in a coma from that accident for almost a month."

Small pieces started returning to her. The painting, the taxi, Jacques flying off into the darkness. What had happened?

 

[jeanie g.]

"Mark?" Her voice was not very strong, but she had to know what happened. "Tell me."

"Jessica, you need to get stronger. We'll talk later." The love shone from his eyes. "I love you so much," he whispered, as he touched her forehead with his lips. "You'll never get away from me again."

Jessica's mother and father came to the bedside, and Mark stood back to allow them to visit with their daughter. He sat down and looked at Phillipe. His eyes, like those of his new friend, were misted over.

Jessica's mother sat holding her daughter's hand and talking softly to her, as she had when she was a young child. Then, when Jessica could fight the sleep no longer, she reached for her husband, and the two embraced. "She's going to be all right! Our baby's going to be all right." She had held her emotions in for so long, and now that the crisis was over, she had to lean on her husband for support.

Mark waited until she seemed to be recovered and walked over to the exhausted pair. "Go back to the hotel and rest, both of you. I'll sit with her in case she awakens. Phillipe, you'll stay, won't you?" The jealousy he had once felt about their former relationship was gone, and the two men had bonded, almost like brothers. Jessica would be stronger in the morning and better able to relive the whole affair. And knowing her, Mark knew that would be unavoidable.

 

[valanhb]

Jessica woke sporatically during the night and saw Mark keeping his vigil by her side. He was in a dead sleep, and it looked like he hadn't slept for days. She let him rest while trying to bring up the pieces of broken memories of that night.

Finally, she woke with the sun and saw Mark gazing at her. She just couldn't wait any longer to find out!

"Mark," she tried, but her throat was still so sore from the tubes and dry. He put a small piece of ice in her mouth and waited for her to try again. "Tell me..." was all she could croak out.

Mark smiled. "At least I don't have to worry about you interrupting me. Do you remember the meeting with Jacques?" She nodded. That she remembered. She remembered how scared she was that she was going to die. "And the accident in the cab?" She nodded. She vaguely remembered that. It was such a blur, everything happening so fast.

"Phillipe and I got the police there as quickly as we could. We arrived just in time to see you dart out of the bushes into the cab. The police were only minutes behind us, and thank God they were. I don't know if you would be here if they hadn't gotten to you when they did. They arrested the two henchmen Jacques had with him, who turned on him as soon as they could to cut a deal. We really had an airtight case against him, too bad it won't be used."

"He's dead?"

"That's the assumption. The force of the impact of the car would have thrown him quite far into the river, into a very fast moving part. They've studied the trajectory and calculated the speeds and all that. They say that the chance of his surviving is something like 500 to 1, but they dredged the river and never recovered a body."

 

[jeanie g.]

Questions chased one another in Jessica's mind, but she knew she had to save strength. "The address was wrong?", she asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. The police were certain that you must have said 'Rue de Lion.' The section of the Rue de Leon I gave them was completely deserted, they insisted. But after a bit of hesitation, Phillipe said your French was too good for such a mispronunciation. We went to the address you gave me, but we were still late. I'm so sorry, Jessi."

"The cab driver?" Mark's head dropped, and Jessica knew the answer before he replied.

"Phillipe's prediction came true, I'm afraid. He didn't survive the collision; he died instantly."

Jessica's eyes misted over. "He saved my life, Mark. Jacques had a gun, and would have..."

"Just rest, Jessi. We can discuss this later," Mark urged her, as he saw her shoulders quiver. His arm circled her body and she sobbed, as the realization finally struck home.

But Jessica shook her head. "No, I want to know everything. Phillipe--is he in jail?"

"No, Jessi. He is at the museum, believe it or not, doing community service. He will be on our equivalent of probation for five years, but he has cooperated completely. None of the people who unknowingly brought drugs in the country was prosecuted. Of course, the Boulangers were crushed by the knowledge that Jacques was a drug lord and mercenary enough to kill them. His "allowance" alone made him richer than you or I will ever be, but nothing was enough. The fact that Phillipe risked his life to save theirs is some comfort, since it's possible Jacques is gone."

Jessica heard the word "possible" only too clearly, because Jacques had sworn to kill her and her parents. "But I thought he had drowned!"

Mark took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. "Jessica, the body did not get caught in the shallows where the authorities expected to find it, and the painting is nowhere to be found."