Double Dealing: A Menage Romance (14 page)

"Yes. You still haven't answered my question, and I don't exactly appreciate your friend there pulling a pistol. Put it away." The bodyguard looked to his boss, who nodded. "Now, how can I help you?"

"I am . . . well, you can call me Al," the boss said, clearly using a false name. "I represent a group of investors who look for international real estate bargains and other areas of profit. Recently, we took possession of a property, just north of the city of Durres, Albania. It was a governmental repossession, and my group has requested that I be the one to notify you of the situation. Here, the papers are all in order."

He handed me the crumpled sheets, and I looked them over. Unfortunately, the political pressures of the recent months had made things chaotic in Albania. Refugees, Greek banks, and just in general the economy of the European Union meant that it was not very well settled. According to the papers, the Albanian government had implemented a new tax, and that my family's property had not paid it. Swooping in, these vultures had paid the tax and had placed a lien on the property. With what were obviously bribes and the assistance of some corrupt officials, they now had a legal claim to the property. It was one of the advantages and disadvantages of living in Southeastern Europe. Corruption meant that you could get away with a lot. But it could bite you in the ass very quickly if you were on the wrong end of things.

I turned to Syeira and Charani, who had come out of the house along with Jordan. "Did you know about this?"

Syeira looked the papers over and shook her head. "No, of course not. When you left for America, everything was in order. My cousin should have notified me if something like this occurred."

Charani shook her head. "No, nothing. These papers must be a lie."

"Lie or not Mrs. Hardy, the facts are, we have the property. But, my group isn’t heartless. Instead of us fighting for what could be years or even decades in various courts, letting your property waste away and fall into disrepair, there is another solution."

"Yes," Charani replied, her spirit rising. "We are Romani. That is our land, I dare anyone to try and take it away from us."

"Mrs. Hardy, we’re ready to do what’s necessary to secure this land. I’d advise you to not make a fuss. Like I said, we’re not heartless, and my investment group is willing to give the title back to you, for a simple piece of work."

"What kind of work?" Jordan asked, speaking up for the first time.

"You must be Miss . . . what is it, Burrows? Or is it Banks?" the man said with a tight grin. "Not that it matters. We want to employ the Hardy brothers in a demonstration of their unique talents."

"What unique talents?" I asked, frustrated. While Jordan's papers may have fooled a customs official in Paris, they obviously were not as foolproof as I thought. Or else this man, Al, had connections with some of the very same people that I worked with. Either way, it pissed me off. “I’m just a Romani vineyard owner."

"You’re the son of Guillaume Hardy, the Mist," the man replied, using my father's nickname. "You and your brother are also following in his footsteps. Although that job in Los Angeles didn’t go as smoothly as expected, did it?"

"What do you want?" Francois spat. “Just get to it already.“

The man nodded, relaxed and as cool as a cucumber. He reached inside the long coat he was wearing and pulled out a disc.

"Technical specifications and data on your target, as well as what we know of the security involved. You have one week to decide, Mr. Hardy. If you agree to our terms, there’s an encrypted e-mail that you may contact. Good day, Mr. Hardy."

The man and his bodyguard left, their car raising dust in the yard. I looked at the data disc in my hand, then at Francois and the three women. "Let's go inside," I said, the pain in my ankle returning. "It seems we have some research to look over, as well as songs to plan out."

"Songs? What do you mean songs?" Jordan asked. "You seriously expect me to want to play guitar after that?”

I smiled and kissed her on the temple. "It is times like this, Jordan, that music and celebration are more important than ever. Why do you think the Romani are such a musical people? We've been handling things like this for thousands of years. We play music when we’re happy, when we’re sad, and when we’re angry. The time to worry is when the music stops."

D
espite Francois's teasing
, Felix was a decent violin player, and I enjoyed the evening even with my worries. Felix was right, losing myself in the music was exactly what I needed, and it allowed me to, at least for the evening, set it all aside. Combined with the wonderful cooking, it was a good evening.

The next day, Francois and Felix shut themselves off in the barn, taking Felix's computer with them. “We need to talk for a bit," Francois told me gently. “We’ll be out for lunch.”

Unfortunately, that left me with a lot of time on my hands, and not much to do. Fortunately though, Charani agreed to show me around. She grabbed gloves and pruning shears for us. "Let me show you the vineyard."

We walked along between the rows, Charani occasionally snipping at a late weed or a branch that was astray. I tried to keep up, but the fact was, I knew nothing about grape vines, and I didn't know if what I was looking at was part of the vine or a weed or what. "You enjoy it here?"

"I do. There’s much still to learn, but I’m trying," I said. "It’s worrisome, knowing what Felix and Francois are planning."

“Isn’t that the truth. They’re good at what they do, but I still worry. They are always in conflict whenever they plan. I was hoping that they wouldn’t have to do this for a long time. Enough time that your influence would bring peace between them.”

"Why are they in conflict?" I asked. "I've noticed sometimes that Francois likes to needle Felix."

“He doesn’t like being reminded that he’s the lesser, twice removed," Charani said, pain evident in her voice. "For a long time, I was the same way."

“What do you mean
lesser
,” I asked.

She snipped away another twig of grapevine and sighed. "Do you know what my birthday is?"

"No, I’m sorry.” I became very quiet, feeling deep in my gut that whatever Charani was about to tell me, it was of vital importance to my understanding the situation I was now in.

She pointed at a spot on the grape vine, and I pulled out a weed while she continued. "My birthday is January first. I was born at twelve twenty-seven in the morning. Syeira, on the other hand, her birthday is December thirty-first. She was born at eleven fifty-three at night."

"Just like Francois and Felix," I remarked. "But, how does that make them fight?"

Charani chuckled. "You see, by our tribe's law, I was second to my sister. Even in our names. Hers means 'Princess,' mine means 'Phoenix,' as in rising from the ashes of defeat, as if the order of our birth was somehow a fight that she won. Growing up, our father was much more loving and permissive to her than I. Syeira, for her part, didn’t lord it over me, but still I grew up with a certain amount of resentment of my sister. It was Guillaume's love that healed that wound in my heart."

"And you think that Francois feels the same way toward Felix?"

Charani nodded. "My father, he continued his treatment when our sons were born. Francois was not only the second born in his generation, but the child of a second born. To Guillaume's credit, he never treated Francois inferior."

“Now that you say it, I don’t know if they see it that way. From what they told me, their father held Felix to a higher standard,” I said.

Charani thought, then nodded. "Perhaps you’re right."

I thought about it. “They do seem to work well together, though."

She shrugged. "They compliment each other, that’s for sure. Tell me, do you have a problem with what they do?”

"A bit," I admitted. "It's kind of weird, you know?”

Charani smiled mysteriously and shrugged. "Maybe. But you should tell me anyway.”

I laughed. "So this is what it feels like, huh? Felix told me one time in Mexico I had a talent for asking the right questions at the right time. Anyway, I guess it's weird because sure, on one hand you have the whole danger and glamor of it. I mean, they're two of the world's best thieves. That adds a bit of dangerous attraction, for sure. Add that to their natural sexiness, and it's a heady mix. Sorry, I guess I shouldn't be calling your son sexy in front of you."

Charani waved it off. “I accept that women find Felix and Francois attractive. I'd be a blind woman or an idiot if I didn’t.”

"At the same time, though, I know the danger and the risk they are taking. Even if we don’t include the physical dangers of their capers, there is the possibility they could be arrested and sent to jail for a very long time. Maybe I was hoping that Felix would become like his Father was after he married you, a gentleman farmer or something. He’s certainly mentioned it, and he’s probably the only one who could convince Francois of something like that.”

"Guillaume and I never actually married," Charani said softly, her voice dropping as she spoke. I looked up in shock and she smiled hauntingly. "The law wouldn’t allow for it. So while by Romani tradition we were man and wife, legally only Syeira and Guillaume were married. My father insisted on that. So when the boys were born, we made sure it was overseas, as you know. American citizenship is valuable, after all. When we came back to France, the locals assumed that Francois was Syeira's child as well, as the boys are too similar to say that I had a child from another man. Thankfully, I wasn’t one of those women who showed a lot in early pregnancy before we left this area. Even still, there were some who would have it be known that Francois is, at least under the law, nothing but Guillaume's bastard."

“Geez,” I muttered wonderingly under my breath. "No wonder Francois is resentful. Tell me, does he have any legal standing in the family fortune?"

Charani nodded. "When Guillaume was diagnosed with cancer, he made sure his affairs were in order. Half of his money, that which he had after giving the dowry to my father, he split evenly between Syeira and myself. The rest he gave to Francois."

"None for Felix?" I asked, surprised. "Why?"

"My father was already dead, his money had passed down to Felix and Francois. Felix was made much richer, although to his credit, he doesn’t use it for personal gain. He shares with the rest of us. He's even tried to rectify what he can, giving Francois the lion's share of every job they do. The mathematics are complicated, but I don’t think Felix cares about the money. He cares about his brother."

"Still, there are hurt feelings," I said. "Do you think they can ever be healed?"

Charani pointed at me. "That is entirely up to you, Jordan. I think it can. If your love is anywhere as pure as what it seems to be, I’m sure of it."

"
P
aris again
?" I asked when the brothers came back into the house near sunset. When they looked at me askance, I shrugged and pointed to the laptop in the corner, the house one. "I saw the disc."

"It seems like it," Felix said after going over and closing the files, then coming to give me a kiss on the cheek. "But first, we have to do some traveling. There are things we need to acquire in order to be able to circumvent the security that the Institute has."

"What do you need?" I asked, curious.

Francois handed over a list on paper. "Most of that we can get in France, but there are a few items that none of our French sources have. We might need to go to Germany for them. Just think, we did talk about going to Germany, but I hadn't planned on it until closer to Octoberfest."

"Germany? I like the sound of that," I said. "When?"

"Whoa, wait a second," Francois replied. "This isn't exactly a sight-seeing trip. We're talking about obtaining electronics and other things needed for our job. The people we'd be talking with aren't wearing lederhosen and happily guzzling beer."

"I know that," I said, a bit pissed off. While I understood Francois's concern, I’d come to terms with the situation. I wasn't a child, after all. "In case you hadn't noticed, Germany happens to be one of the biggest centers of hard rock and metal music in Europe. I've learned a lot about the scene over there. But what you have to get through that impressively handsome yet thick skull of yours, is that I’m not going to be some damsel in distress sitting around on my ass waiting while you two run off committing felonies all over the continent. I may not go on the job with you, but I’m going to be involved and with you as much as I can."

I was breathing hard, staring a hole into Francois, the air heavy with tension, when musical laughter came from behind us. Turning my head, I saw Charani and Syeira both holding their sides, laughing quietly. "She's the one!" Charani said, looking at us. "For sure."

"She is," Syeira added. "Handsome yet thick skull!"

Both women started laughing again, and Francois threw his hands up, storming out of the kitchen area. I looked at Felix, who shrugged. "If you want to come along, then so be it. But you’re going to be on the sidelines.”

I
couldn’t believe
it the next morning when, at sunup, Felix led Jordan on a run through the vineyard, leading her up and down the rows until she was dripping with sweat and her legs quivered as she came back. I was preparing breakfast as they returned. "Should you really be doing that on a turned ankle?" I asked him when they came in. "You’ll be worse than useless if you’re hobbling around on the job."

“I’ll be fine, and the pace was easy," Felix replied casually. "It was a good way for me to work some flexibility back into it."

"You call it easy, but I'm about ready to die," Jordan gasped, her face slightly pale from her exertions. "What is a fast pace for you?"

"Five-minute miles on level ground," I answered, stirring breakfast in the sauté pan. I adore my mother's cooking, but I enjoy cooking for myself as well, and it does help me calm myself. "Usually for ten kilometers or so. What's that, six miles I think?"

"Yes," Felix replied, sitting down and unlacing his running shoe. He’d worn an ankle support under his sock, unstrapping it before pointing his toe and starting with the rehabilitation exercises that we'd learned as children, writing the alphabet with his big toe on the ground. It wasn't for strengthening as much as it was for keeping the joint supple and moving. "The biggest thing for you Jordan isn’t going to be combat or acrobatics. If you’re ever in such a position, things have gone very, very wrong. Instead, you’ll focus on evasion and escape, which is more using your eyes and your brain than anything else."

Jordan was crestfallen, but she understood. After a hearty breakfast, enough that she would have plenty of fuel to recover from her exertions of the day, Felix and I got down to work. Jordan watched for a moment, then went back to Felix's bedroom to change clothes. I watched her go, then turned back to the computer. Pulling up the detailed blueprints that had come on the disc, I was surprised at the level of detail that my contact had provided us with.

Of course I knew the cover story of a repossession of the property in Durres was a crock of shit. Still, they wanted the book, that was for damn sure. If it wasn't that I had ulterior motives, I'd be tempted to try and keep the book for myself. "I hate trying to do a job in Paris," Felix muttered as we looked at the screen. "There are too many people who know who we are. The odds of being recognized are infinitely higher."

"They are higher, but Felix, we're transients even in Paris," I commented, trying to assuage his fears. I wanted him confident, knowing he wouldn't see it coming when the trap was sprung. "I'm more worried about the building itself. The architecture is unique."

That, at least, was true. In order to fit the building to the oddly shaped plot of land next to the River Seine, the Arab Institute was curved on one side, a side that was fronted with mostly glass. This created a lot of odd angles for trying to enter the building, and it got worse when we got inside. Taking cues from the Middle Eastern designs that it was paying homage to, the building used walls, beams, and other features to mimic the shading techniques used in traditional Arab buildings. It created not only lots of open space but also a lot of areas where a sensor could be hidden very easily, making casing for security sensors nearly impossible. We'd have to attack the security system higher up, not worrying about individual sensors but instead the hub of the system.

"The design I'm not worried about. I'm more worried about the actual security systems in place. Let's face it, it's a fucking target right now with the tensions, they've got to have enough security forces around there just in case shit pops off again. After the terror attacks, I'm surprised they haven't been bombed at least once," Felix said. "What sort of surveillance and armed guards do they have roaming around that place?"

"We'll have to get eyes on, and see if the Germans can help us," I countered, then grinned. "And you spent too much time in Los Angeles, trying phrases like 'shit pops off.' In the meantime, I have a more personal question. How serious are you about Jordan coming with us?"

"She won’t be at the Institute," Felix said, "but I guess she can come to Paris. If anything, she can stay on the barge while we do our thing. After we have the package, we can all drive away together."

“We should probably get rid of the book before we reconnect with her. Our contact, they want an immediate handover."

"All right, fine. We'll just set up a point to pick her up at."

"Want to get some sparring in?" I asked Felix as we finished. "You never know if we might need it."

Felix, who was obviously still troubled by his twisted ankle, thought about it. I was hoping his pride would keep him going, I didn't want him one hundred percent for the break in. We couldn't back out anyway, not with the cover that my contact had given. "Come on," I needled him. "You never could hang with me without contest rules anyway."

Felix's pride was sufficiently pricked. "Fine," he said.

We went into the back yard, actually very close to the space where we'd talked with the men yesterday, each of us carrying the mouthpiece that we kept in the barn for this purpose. It had been a long time since we'd worn them, and I spat in disgust at the taste. "Hold on, rinse out," I said. Going to an outside faucet, I doused the rubbery safety device and put it back in, sucking water through before repeating the process twice more. "Okay, ready."

Circling Felix, I was happy to have an advantage. While my brother is bigger and stronger, we’d trained together since we were practically babies. I knew his movements, his style, and his techniques. We could counter each other almost without thinking, and normally a sparring session between us would last for a very long time without either of us getting any sort of telling blow in on the other.

This time, however, I knew that Felix was hobbling and that it was his lead foot that was injured. Attacking swiftly, I made him continually have to pivot on that foot, pressuring it with movement until it tired out. Soon, he stumbled, and I was able to take advantage with a punch to the jaw that sent him sprawling. I backed away and gestured for him to get up. "Come on, lucky shot."

Felix got up again, and again I pressed my attack, fending off his off balance punches to knee him deep in the muscle of his right thigh. With that muscle knotted up as well as his ankle in pain, I quickly outmaneuvered him and landed another punch, this time to the stomach that doubled him over. Felix coughed, spitting a wad of phlegm and a little bit of blood into the dirt, and held up his finger. "One more round."

I was taken aback when Felix switched his feet, pulling his right leg back and putting his left leg forward. He knew my tactic. I decided to overwhelm him again, pressing in quickly. I was shocked when suddenly I ended up on my back, Felix standing above me with his left foot at my throat. "Knockout," Felix said quietly, then helped me to my feet. "You got cocky with my leg."

I shook my head, surprised. Felix and I needed to fight more often, he was the best opponent I'd ever faced. "I barely felt it until I was on my back."

Felix grinned. "Thank you. Now, help me inside. I want to get this jaw iced and my ankle soaked in hot water before Jordan gets back. If she sees me hobbling or in pain, she's going to freak out and probably kick both of our asses."

After helping Francois into the bathtub, I got on the computer, logging into my secret e-mail. There was a message from my contact, the boss of the man who'd come by the house the day before. My men said you did a very good job of selling the deal, but they were surprised when they realized who you and your brother are. There is a new rider on the contract. Your brother is not going to be terminated but instead be brought into the custody of certain partners of mine. We will take possession of the book and your brother at that time.

If that’s what it takes
, I wrote back in an e-mail.
Arrange the hand-off to be soon after the obtaining of the book. We will not be alone, and I don’t want her suspecting. Send details in next message.

I shut down my computer, making sure to wipe the history of the e-mail. The hateful idea resonated with me. The king who becomes a slave. I kind of liked the sound of that.