The Girl with the Pearl Herring. Part 5

Breathing hard, feeling each and every hit, Lincoln walked over to Jacques’ bed.  Lincoln felt for a pulse and found that the beat was strong, but slow. He propped up Jaques on all the pillows in the room so Jaques could breathe easier. When Lincoln rolled Jaques on his side, Jaque let out an impossibly long and resounding fart, accompanied by a stench that was, if possible, worse than Lincoln's earlier flatulence.  Fucking sausages, thought Lincoln, wild boar, sauerkraut, that french stone ground mustard, maybe that delightful, rustic, dinner did have a price.  He  went to look at the uninvited guests shaking his head ruefully at the smell the two of them had produced.  If only that fart had been ten minutes earlier, thought Lincoln, I wouldn't have had to skin my knuckles, they would have dropped from the smell alone.  With a smile he turned to his work of examining the sleeping visitors.

Unsurprisingly, when Lincoln removed the balaclavas, he recognized two of the men from the garage they had reconnoitered the night before.  One had an absolute beauty of a shiner, and the one was the one Jaques had kicked in the knee.  When Lincoln went through their pockets he found something curious. Both men had no Id, and exactly 1000 Euros in assorted bills.  The same amount, the same bill distribution, the same rubberband on both wads.  Lincoln, remembering Jaques' lesson about the one Euro coin, checked for change in their pockets and got another eight Euros.

“I'll be Goddamned,” Lincoln said, then sat in a chair to wait for Jaques to wake up.

By the way Lincoln was hesitating, furrowing his brow, and pacing the short distance between the beds and the door, Jaques thought Lincoln was going to have an awkward conversation.  He got up from his bed and started to leave the room to give Lincoln some privacy.  Shaking his head Lincoln motioned him into a chair, and silently indicated that he didn’t think it would be a long call.

“Rehab? It's Lincoln,” he began, “yes that Lincoln.  Yes, I do know how you feel, thank you very much. Wait, what? Oh no, you said it was mutual, right? Ummmmm okay…  Anyway, the reason I am calling…”

There was a loud screeching from the phone.  Jaques did not speak Israeli, but to his ears the tone suggested extreme displeasure.

“Yes,” Lincoln was trying to placate, “no, you are correct.” Abruptly his tone changed. “Jesus girl, I KNOW, lord knows I know. Wait, what did you just say? Really? After all those years. That's unfair and you know it. For the love of God woman, how many times do I need to tell you? Nobody loves your mother more than me…”

More screeching from the phone. Lincoln held it away from his ear, screwed his eyes shut and, putting the phone back to his head continued in Israeli for a minute.

“Fine,” he said, switching back to English, “we can talk about that later.  Now, what I need, would like sorry, would like, is some information on Nazi gold.  A fella here in Dieppe was beaten almost to death, we saw the aftermath. What's that Rehab, who what? Oh, I see, I’m with my new friend Silent Walrus. Anyway we see this guy, Jacob Du Puis, beaten half to death.”

He pointed at the bottle of water in Jaques’ hand and then at himself.

“After we asked around,” he continued, opening up his water and taking a sip, “we discovered that his family has gold they hid from the Nazis during World War Two. It seems somebody else heard this story too, and wants the gold for themselves. No, they did take it. What we would like to know is where it is.  The crates left the family compound in a delivery van two days ago and haven't been seen since, but I think it might still be around here. How? We have a room on the road out of town and I haven't seen any vans drive by. I know it could have happened when I was sleeping but I don't think so.”

He threw his empty water bottle at the wall with surprising force, it bounced off and Jaques caught it before it could hit him in the cheek, some of the leftover water dripped out and left a wet spot just below the pocket on his shirt.

Exasperated, Lincoln answered Rehab's question on the other end of the line, “Lots of reasons really, do you have any way to find out if, and where, it is being held? You do Fin-Tash-Teak, excellent, put me in your phone as אידיוט מזוין(asshole) and please let us know.  What's that? Paris? Escargot? Ummmmmmmmm, can we talk about it?  Thank you ever so much, no I really do mean that this time. Okay then bye.”

Jaques raised his eyebrows in curiosity, tossing the empty bottle in the trash can.

“Sorry,” said Lincoln, “It's complicated, you know? Anyway she will help us, but I have to take her to La Jacobine in Paris for escargot.  Hear me now and believe me always brotha, I hate snails.  I hope you appreciate what I'm doing for us here.

Rehab called twelve hours later, she had done the research, and had valuable information, putting a frame around the pieces that were laid out in front of Lincoln and Jaques.

“He calls himself a ‘repatriator’ of Nazi gold.” Rehab said on speaker phone,  “he usually steals it, packs it into a van and takes it someplace in Germany.”

“Düsseldorf” said JAQUES, “from there? who knows, but I guarantee he has a warehouse full of vans full of gold in Dusseldorf. We met some of his security staff up there.”

“That would make sense,” Rehab said, “thank you Jaques. Anyway, he has stolen 30 million euros worth of gold from an old and established Jewish family, your Du Puis it would seem, they have, or had the holy grail of nazi gold. Bars of exceptional purity marked with the eagle and swastika. These are what every neonazi wants, and this guy has 30 million Euros worth, fair market value. At a secret nazi auction each of those bars could double in value. These are sick people. Anyway, we know this hasn’t left France, but I need to know for sure where it is before I can start anything on my end. Satellite imagery shows a large building about five kilometers out of town that I think is where everything is. What I need, we need, is confirmation. Can you two get that for me?”

“Yeah, easy enough.” Said Lincoln, “a quick sneak and peek, yae or nay, and we are out.”

“Exactly,” said Rehab. “The sooner the better.”

“Jaw-Whale Fro-Leaned” Lincoln said.

“Dammit,” Rehab snapped, “that's not funny.”  and hung up.

“How are you feeling?” asked JAQUES, “up to a sneak and peek?”

“Admittedly I’m a bit sore,” Lincoln said bravely, “but I can still limp silently. Sneak and peek it is, when it’s dark though. Can we wrap it up quickly? I’m going to be hella hungry.”

“Hella?” Jaques said, shaking his head, “New Hampshire done wore off on you partner. But yes, quickly is as quickly does. Now,I’m going to take a nap. Make sure you wake me up before you go go Kay?”