The Little Black Cigarette Chapter 6
Chapter Six: The Reconciliation
Click HERE to read chapter 5.
The flat was dark when I entered. It was well past midnight and only a single light was left on for me in the entry. I could hear Cecile snickering somewhere far in the dark. I went into Pierre’s office and grabbed a bottle of Macallan, leaving the whiskey tumblers where they were, and went to sit on the sofa in the dark. Pierre heard my movements and came out to the sitting room. He turned on a small floor lamp in the corner of the room. My makeup had smeared below my eyes, leaving them gray and morbid.
“She’s told you.” His voice was cautious.
I didn’t answer, instead I took a long swig from the bottle that was resting between my legs, with my eyes forward, away from him. I knew the moment I looked at him I would shatter. He came to my side, kneeling down by my knees.
“Darling, you must know--”
“Darling,” I said in a low mocking tone.
“Yes. Because, you see, that is what you are to me. You have been for quite some time.”
“And how long exactly? A month, a year? How long have I been in your sights, just as your expensive jewels?”
“That is unfair, Anna. I only wish to explain how dear you are to me.”
“Unfair! Would you like to speak of what is fair? Tell me is it fair to play someone’s life as if it were a game? Moving me about like a pawn upon your chessboard!”
“I understand your anger, and your disgust with me. I too felt it the moment I met you.”
“The moment you met me is no longer a fanciful coincidence in my mind. Tell me, when was it first you saw me? Was it not the same moment I saw you? How long did--”
“It is true we did not meet out of pure luck. Yes, you are right to assume I placed myself in your path. But Anna, if I had known what you would be to me! If I had known I wouldn’t have involved you at all. You have become my weakness just as you are your mother’s.”
“I’m so happy you have another thing in common with her.”
Pierre stood, defeatedly. He paced the dim room, his slippered feet dragging along the wood floor. Though his presence was a bother to me, I was glad to not be alone. I just wished for him not to speak.
“Can you stop that incessant pacing?” I drank again from the bottle. Pierre came to me and took it from my hands. “Ah good, control your hostage.”
“Hostage! Is that how you see yourself!”
“I am nothing more than at your disposal. I have been. Where has my freedom gone, Pierre?”
“You are free, Anna. Everything I have done and will do is to ensure your freedom. You are my partner in this.”
“I ceased to be your partner the moment you sat me down before my mother like a treat before a dog.” I sat for a moment thinking. “You know, I bet you have a file on me. Just as you do The Jeweler.” I sprung to my feet and left for his office, taking apart the drawers of his desk, pulling the manilla files to the floor.
“Stop this! Anna, you have to stop now!” Pierre was yelling, rushing after me.
“I have to know! What do you have here? Ah yes, here it is!”
I opened a file with my name on its corner, spreading its contents across his desk. I stood before it, scrambling through photos and notes. Photos of me leaving my studio in Chicago bundled in a winter coat, two years before. Me, skimpily dressed in an American bar with Cecile for her birthday last spring. Me, entering Chicago O’Hare just months before arriving in Paris. Measurements of my body listed carefully on thick printer paper, my drink of choice, my bank account information, my university records. My life typed up simply in black and white for Pierre’s eyes to read and memorize.
“Anna, please!” Pierre came behind me, wrapping his arms around mine, holding my trembling body against his chest. I fought, swinging viciously from side to side but he only held tighter. “Please Anna stop!” He sat his face into the back of my neck, I felt his tears drip onto my skin, warm and desperate. I slammed my palms to the wooden desk, he let go and let me sink into the chair. I felt my tightened throat release and I began to sob into my hands. Pierre knelt to the floor, swinging the chair so that I would face him. He rested his head on my knees.
“You have to know how deeply I had fallen in love with you by the time we met.” Pierre raised his head and took my hands from my face. I felt my tears beeding down my hot cheeks. “Yes it was business, at first. At first you were nothing more than a piece of the puzzle. But Anna, the more I found the more I couldn’t separate you from me!” I looked into his eyes, more human than before. “I knew I should have pulled away, found another way to reach out to your mother. But I couldn’t. Once I knew you I didn’t want to know anything else.”
He reached out and wiped the tears from my lips.
“You offered me money.”
“I knew you wouldn’t refuse if I did.”
“And Cecile, Boris--”
“That was unexpected, Boris didn’t know about her. I couldn’t have known--”
He didn’t finish, only held my hands to his face. I began to cry again when I heard Cecile’s soft footsteps approaching from the sitting room. I quickly cleaned my face with my sleeves.
“What’s happened?” She said as she stepped tentatively into the office. Boris towered over her from behind, his face white in recognition.
“Boris, would you please make us some coffee.” I said, my voice was clear and calm. Pierre looked up at me amazed. I stood, leaving Pierre knelt on the floor, and moved into the sitting room where I turned on the remaining lights.
“What’s happened?” Cecile said again, more forcefully than before. Her voice was shaken and panicked.
I sat back onto the couch, lighting a black cigarette. Pierre came in from the office and sat on a lone leather chair in the corner. He put his face in his hands again while Boris returned with four steaming espressos.
“What has happened is I have been played like a fucking symphony.”
Cecile didn’t say a word, just took a seat next to mine on the sofa. She held a hot cup in her hands.
“Merde,” Mumbled Boris.
“Mais oui, Boris. Merde.” I sipped my espresso.
Boris went into the office and collected the photographs and papers I had sprawled across the desk. Placing them neatly into the file, he brought them back and handed them to Cecile. She turned each page slowly, examining its contents. All four of us sat in the quiet until she finished.
“Marvelous,” she said, dropping the file onto the glass white table. She folded her arms and leaned back, observing the wreck that was once Pierre.
“Cecile, you must know that Boris had nothing to do with this.” Pierre didn’t not raise his head as he addressed her.
“But you were aware, yes? Boris? You understood who Anna was?”
“Yes,” Boris said. His honest arms hung to his sides while he stood facing the terrace.
“He was only following orders.”
“Yes, orders. Okay well what are his orders now? What are all of our orders? Since we all seem to be at your beck and call.” Cecile was succinct in her criticisms. It was the first time since Friday evening that I felt her motherly protection again. “How did you track us to Paris?”
“We’ve been monitoring your passports and bank activity.”
“You followed us from the bar to the water on Friday. I remember seeing Boris.”
“Yes, it was all very purposeful.”
“Wonderful,” she said while standing and stretching her arms overhead. “Well, Anna. I think we should go to bed.”
“I’m sorry?” I looked up at her silhouette as it moved past Pierre then Boris.
“Yes, there is nothing left to do tonight but sulk and drink. I think it’s best you sleep before something is done that cannot be undone. Pick yourself up, now.”
I followed her towards the guest room, carrying the whiskey bottle along. We left Pierre and Boris in the sitting room and shut the door on the night.
I woke up in the guest room alone. On the bedside table was the pitiful, half-empty bottle of whiskey, which I could still taste on my breath. Cecile was out on the terrace with Boris having coffee, I could hear her voice in a mumbled anger. The silence of the morning was strange, like rain without clouds. I could feel it on my skin. I poured a cup and sat down alongside the couple, their attention on the food in front of them, I had deliberately interrupted their quarrel. My cup clinked loudly as I set it to the table, Cecile let out a sigh of displeasure, and Boris cleared his throat.
“And how are we feeling this morning?” Cecile said, rather cheerfully. She was doing a poor job hiding her discomfort.
“Less than satisfactory I would say. Lovely morning.”
“Don’t say it with so much excitement, you might feel happy.” She was looking at me but I refused to return her gaze, “I was thinking we could go shopping today, what do you say? Le Bon Marche?”
“Only if we walk, I can’t sit in another car driven by someone else.”
Boris left the table, heading to talk with Pierre I assumed.
Cecile turned swiftly in my direction.
“Anna, you must tell me about your mother. I know you didn’t want to talk much last night.. But my! There must be so many thoughts!”
“Yes, so many thoughts, yet none of them have been pleasant.” There was a dense, dark cloud that hung over my first moments with my estranged mother. Unfortunately, I felt that would never be lifted from my memory. It’s a wonder I hadn’t forgotten it all yet, with the way my mind seems to shelf dark things in my memories.
“They will be, though. They will be pleasant over time. Especially if you let me in.”
“It isn’t a matter of letting you in, rather the liberation of other heavy things I’ve acquired.”
Just then, Pierre appeared on the terrace. Cecile looked at him with obvious disgust, then stood cinematically.
“Anna and I are going shopping, so say what you would like but we are leaving shortly.”
“Yes, of course. Boris and I have to be at the warehouse anyhow.”
Cecile went inside.
Pierre poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the railing, looking down toward the street. He searched for something to say, opening his mouth for a moment, then deciding against it and sipping his coffee. Under his eyes hung dark pouches, of regret no doubt. His shirt was buttoned haphazardly, his hair was without product. I fought the urge I had to stand and take his face in my hands and kiss his sadness away.
“I should shower,” I said while pushing my chair back against the stone, it screeched terribly and Pierre winced.
“Anna, if you would just wait a moment. I know the last thing you want to hear is my voice pleading with you, so I won’t. You need time to think, understandably so, and I will let you do that. Have a wonderful time with Cecile, let your mind relax for the afternoon. We can talk this evening, then maybe listening to me won’t feel so dreadful.”
“I’ll decide if I’m up for a conversation later. Goodluck with Anna today.”
“Thank you. Please be safe today. I know it sounds like I am being overprotective, but you cannot understand what these people are like unless you experience it. I just wish for you to be cautious.”
“Of course.”
I wanted for him to reach out and grab me, pull me into him and kiss me hard. But he only stared intently at the street, so I left the terrace and the irritable awkwardness stayed with him.
I showered and gathered my things. By the time we left, so had Boris and Pierre. We decided to stop and have another coffee and pastry at Les Deux Magots before heading to Le Bon Marche. Boulevard Saint-Germain was busy with women carrying bags full of expensive clothes, and dirty men asking for cigarettes. I watched a woman step out of a taxi across the street from the cafe. Her white pants were iron-pressed and sleek against the Parisian gray. She fumbled gracefully out of the cab, her many bags falling from her hands due to the shifting weight inside. She stood above them with her hands on her hips, blowing her bobbed brown hair from her eyes. I smiled at life’s difficulties.
“You can’t stay mad at him forever, Anna. I’ve seen the way you look at him when he isn’t looking. You don’t look at things like that, let alone men. If we are being frank I would say you haven’t loved anything a day in your life.”
The woman gathered her bags, throwing her head back in the wind.
“That’s not true I loved Peter,” I felt Cecile’s eyes roll, “And I love you, Cecile.”
“Peter! Honestly, who could love Peter. With a name like that.. And I do not count, you’re obligated to love me, no one can help to not.”
“Sure, I loved him.”
The disheveled woman regained her sophistication while waiting for the crosslight to blink green. She was looking down at her phone, scrolling for something.
“You loved that he loved you and that was the end of that. There wasn’t an interesting bone in that boy’s body. Peter, ha!” Cecile blew smoke between her white teeth. It was nice to see her smile. “And now this man! This mysterious, dark, handsome man comes gliding into your life and suddenly you feel love! Real love, not Peter love.”
“Pierre did not glide into my life, he staged his entrance like a broadway show.”
The woman looked up from her phone and seeing the light had not turned, went back to scrolling. Her arms looked tired from the bags.
“I don’t care how he appeared, he is here now. And you have never been more infatuated, I would hate to see you give that up. The first real relationship in your life Anna, could you just imagine?”
“I imagine he must feel very satisfied in presenting it as such.”
“You are so hard headed. So what now? You are going to stay ceaselessly angry at him? That would become incredibly exhausting.”
The woman held her phone to her ear now, talking animatedly to someone on the other line. Impatient and distracted, she stepped out onto the street just as a taxi was screaming down the boulevard. I grabbed Cecile’s leg beneath the table just as a man seemed to come out of nowhere, pulling the woman back to the curb.
“Anna, please! You’re leaving marks! Are you still so angry?”
The woman thanked the man, who was dressed in a deep burgundy coat, his hat covering his eyes as he looked down at her, smiling kindly. She turned and walked across the street as the light went green. The man lifted his head, his eyes meeting directly with mine. I looked away at Cecile.
“Oh I’m sorry, just this woman.. No it’s nothing, nevermind. I’m not so angry as I am confused about what to do with myself.”
The man disappeared into a shop across the street.
“I can’t just suddenly feel at ease with everything that has happened, everything that Pierre had planned.” I continued.
“Well, you simply need to decide what your circumstances are.”
“My circumstances? I have spent the past few days in a predetermined timeline set by Pierre, only to find that while I have been living as an orphan, my mother has spent my life in luxury.”
“Yes but Anna, everything is predetermined in some way. There is only so much you can control.”
“That’s just it, I haven’t had any control. Control has been taken from me, and I’m beginning to feel it was taken long before this weekend.”
Cecile peered at me from behind her Gucci sunglasses that perched on the tip of her nose. It was clear she didn’t agree with a single utterance from my lips.
“You’re so worried about your loss of freedom that you haven’t thought about whether Pierre has encroached on your freedom at all.”
“Has he not? He pointed me in the direction he wanted, I feel like a well trained dog on a leash.”
“Pierre may have inserted a bit of influence, yes that cannot be denied. But you were still able to make decisions, were you not? You always have a choice.”
“I’m not sure I follow, Cecile.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t freedom merely the ability to choose? You blame the circumstances, you blame Pierre, you blame your mother. But it is you who is choosing to feel betrayed. I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel some sort of anger or discomfort, but Anna! Your freedom has gone nowhere unless you decide not to deal with it.”
She saw that I was still unconvinced.
“There are always circumstances, situations which we must navigate. But when you are presented with them you have to decide if and how you should act. You may choose to not to act at all, and some things require no reaction, like the fact that Anna is your mother, or that Pierre knew of you before you knew of him. These are things you cannot change, rather you can only accept.”
“That still leaves me bothered.”
“Yes, but what will you do with that feeling? How you feel is entirely up to you and your freedom of choice. It’s all perspective really.”
“You put that so simply it sounds like a lie.”
“And yet, there isn’t a dishonest bone in my body.”
I smiled and put my hand on hers in a silent acknowledgement.
“I suppose there is nothing I can do about my mother and Pierre. It is done.”
“Yes, it is done!”
“And I wanted so badly to crawl into Pierre’s arms, even last night when I returned from dinner. I wanted so badly for him to wrap me up and carry my sadness himself.”
“See! You love him! And can’t you also see how it has affected him as well? He does carry your sadness, Anna, and you didn’t even need to ask.”
“So I choose to forgive.”
“Choosing otherwise would be self destruction, even I can see that.”
I blissfully remembered Pierre’s skin against mine beneath his silk sheets. The way his lips disturbed my sanctity. Hot breath in my ear and cold fingers on my hips. Falling asleep between the crease of his neck and the comfort of his chest. You are more treasured than any jewel we saw tonight. Somehow his words meant something entirely different only a day later.
“Anna?”
“Sorry, yes self destruction. Should we go?”
“Oh please! My hands are so tired of being empty!”
We paid our bill. Upon leaving the cafe I glanced across the street, the man was smoking a cigarette outside the shop, his hat tipped towards the floor while the smoke lifted weightlessly above it.
Le Bon Marche was crowded, as it always seems to be, with window shoppers and high rollers alike. Its three floors were shelved between delicate lights and marble floors. Cecile moved instinctually towards the perfumes, spraying each on thin strips of card stock, waving them, then sniffing, sometimes with disgust. I watched the sales associates decide whether to approach her or not, confused if she was interested or simply enjoying the puerality of spraying each glass bottle. We moved on to the second floor, where Cecile threw different atrocious dresses into my arms for us to try on playfully. I watched her float between clothing racks, touching everything she was close to, making comments on its texture and color.
I had begun to forget about Pierre, and about my mother when we moved on to shoes. I sat on a blush bench, probably often occupied by bored husbands and tired children, holding the overwhelming amount of fabric on my lap. Cecile was looking at a bold pair of pink pumps when I was distracted by a man standing a few sections away from us. He seemed to be pretending to look through a rack of women’s coats, though not very convincingly. He kept his head down, with the collar of his black jacket raised above his chin. I watched him move slowly between the fabrics. Cecile moved onto a pair of open toe heels. The man was approached by another and he quietly left the area. His friend echoed his movements, and I suddenly recognized him. The smoking hero from the crosslight in front of Les Deux Magots. He weaved purposely towards Cecile, who was unaware of anything other than the dainty shoes in her hands. He was bold in his movements and I was immobile for a moment, but he kept coming closer.
“Cecile!” I said rather anxiously. “Let’s try some of these on.”
“But I really want to ask--”
“No, really.” I spoke softly to capture her attention, “We need to go to the dressing room, now.”
I took her by the arm and walked calmly towards a corner of the floor marked femme. Pushing past the line, we squeezed rudely into one of the small rooms and I pulled its curtain firmly closed.
“Anna! What has gotten into you?” Cecile sat on the only stool, looking up at me vexed. I was anxiously unlocking my phone and searching for Pierre’s contact. When I found it I pressed call immediately, but I had no service and the lines wouldn’t connect. You cannot understand what these people are like unless you experience it. I tried again, but there was no use.
“Cecile, I think we might have been followed. Those men, who were by the shoes, I saw one of them before at the cafe.”
“Couldn’t you just be paranoid?”
“I could, but I don’t want to take any chances, do you? I mean what are the odds the same man has appeared here, in the women’s clothing section?”
“It isn’t our place to judge!”
“Cecile, be serious! Pierre warned us this could happen, let’s just be cautious.” I took a breath and left the dressing room for a moment. Past the line of women waiting for a room, I could still see the man, walking in circles at the far end of the floor. I returned to Cecile.
“Okay, he is still there, but if we are quick I think we can slip out without him noticing.”
“Does that mean we are leaving the clothing?”
“Yes, Cecile.”
“Even the shoes?”
“Cecile!”
“Okay, okay! Let’s go then.”
We left the dressing rooms slowly, waiting for the man to turn his back, then walking briskly down the stairs to the first floor. We kept our heads down, not looking once in his direction, until we made it out onto the crowded street.
“Now what?” Cecile was clutching my hand as I dragged her down the boulevard. I dialed Pierre again, connecting this time. It rang twice before he picked up.
“Darling, I wasn’t expecting a call. I’m in the middle--”
“I think Cecile and I are being followed.” I interrupted.
“Where are you?”
“We just left Le Bon Marche. There was a man, well two of them--”
“Don’t worry about the details, I’ll come now. Get into somewhere dark, a pub or small cafe, and send me the address.”
I hung up.
We cut down a small side street, then another, and wandered into Le Nemrod. I pulled Cecile to the bar and sat her down. I sent Pierre the address and we waited with no sign of the smoking hero. I ordered us each a shot of tequila, I could tell by the paleness of Cecile’s face that she needed it. Her expression was apologetic, as if in this moment she would have been okay with my anger at Pierre. It is peculiar how fear can change one’s perspective. We tossed the shots back in a continued silence, I checked the door nervously over my shoulder until I saw Pierre’s dark sedan pull up out front. I left some coins at the bar and we left, climbing safely inside the car.
“Are you two alright? Did they follow you to the cafe?” Pierre was visibly worried, his forehead glistened slightly with perspiration.
“I don’t think they did, but I could be wrong. I knew there was something off about that man, the moment I saw him.”
“I’m thankful for your attention to detail, Anna. This could have been a very different day, though it isn’t over yet. We need to find somewhere other than my flat, surely they followed you from there. I’ve sent Boris to collect both of your things. I have a friend who owns a small place in the 11th arrondissement, it should be more quiet there. Are you sure you are alright?”
We both nodded silently. I allowed myself to gaze out the window to calm my nerves. I must have interrupted Pierre’s morning with Anna, it was barely noon and he was meant to be gone until the early evening. He wasn’t bothered, instead he seemed rather pleased to be of some sort of use for me.
We pulled down a small side street somewhere close to the Charonne metro station. The streets were dirtier, in an undisturbed sort of way. They weren’t full of gawking tourists, but rather young students and slow moving Parisians. We got out of the car as Pierre typed a code into a keypad next to a small metal door. It buzzed loudly as we entered and climbed a small staircase to the fourth floor. The flat was practically empty and full of dust. It smelt unlived in, stale and moist. Cecile opened the two windows facing the street, wiping her hands frustratedly together afterwards. I could see the dust tossing into the breeze. I followed Pierre into one of the two small bedrooms where a lone mattress lay on the floor and an easel rested next to the window. I fell onto the bed as he opened the window. He came and sat by my head, combing his fingers through my hair. I felt my eyes close with exhaustion. I breathed in a faint smell of vinegar and coffee grounds.
“I should see if Boris is outside,” Pierre said, rising again to the wood paneled flooring.
“Wait for a moment, if you would.”
I sat up and he came to my side.
“I’ve realized that there will always be things I don’t understand, or can’t for that matter. There is part of me that wishes I hadn’t come here, that I hadn’t become involved in this at all. The spontaneity of meeting you has completely vanished and I'm left with your malintentions. But I am here nonetheless, and the rest of me is happy about that. If things had gone differently, if meeting you was unplanned and organic, I would still be here with you.”
“That sounds like you’ve forgiven me.”
“I’ve forgiven what happened before we met, it would be cruel of me to hold anything against you when doing so hurts me as well.”
“All I want is to keep you from hurting, Anna.”
“I know that now. I knew that last night as well, from the pain in your eyes. I was unsympathetic in my rage and confusion and I am sorry for being so blinded. I was overwhelmed.”
“You have no reason to feel apologetic, it is me that should be pleading with you.” He ran his fingers beneath my eyes, resting his thumbs gently on my temples. “I used your lost connection with your mother in an evil way and there isn’t anything I can say to change that, but there is still so much good to come from this. You will finally get answers to questions you never found yourself able to ask.”
“And so will you, I presume.”
“Yes, both of us are looking for answers, and how lucky we are to have found something else entirely. Something so unexpected.”
He kissed me soft and long. I held onto him, missing his lips even before he took them away.
Cecile tiptoed into the room.
“There’s a buzzing coming from the speaker by the door. It’s rather annoying.” She said, smiling knowingly at my happiness.
“That must be Boris downstairs, I’ll go help him with your things. Also, I’m sending Julia to the store, is there anything either of you need? No? Okay, I’ll be quick.”
He left.
“What is that I smell in the air?” Cecile wandered into the room towards the window.
“Paint thinner.”
“No, Anna. Reconciliation.”
“Oh please!”
“Look at you! You’re glowing. Say, do you and your mother share a striking resemblance?”
“I suppose I look a lot like her, yes. Why?”
“Because there is a beautiful, redhead waiting outside with Boris and I’m wondering if I should settle the jealousy that has suddenly risen up in me.”
I got up from the bed and joined Cecile at the window, seeing Boris and my mother just before they entered the door. She was carrying my suitcase, her coat caught on the handle causing her to struggle with the curb.
“Why is she here?”
“So it is her! Oh I am so excited, aren’t you excited!”
“Cecile, do not make this such a deal.”
She rushed into the other room, swinging open the door before they reached it. I sat on the lone sofa in the room, lighting myself a poppy cigarette. My nerves were still high and my mother’s presence surely would not help them.
“Quick Anna, what is your last name?”
“Cecile, what a silly question.”
“Not Sullivan! Your mother’s last name. What is it?”
“Pavlov.”
“Oh, so mysterious! Why must Russians be so mysterious?”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as she started off down the stairs, yelling for my mother to drop my bag where it was. I heard their greetings, my mother’s composure and glowing approval of Cecile. Cecile’s enthusiasm rang up the stairwell into the open room, filling its stale nature with love. I have so many stories of Anna, you won’t believe what she did at our high school prom! Do you have pictures? Of Anna? As a baby? I’ve never seen any, I’m sure she was chubby. Everyone is fat once in their life, you know.
As their footsteps neared, I stood from the sofa and went to the window. I counted my breaths. Pierre came in first, coming to my side immediately after recognizing my expression. He put his hands on my shoulders, kissing my hair just once and I was calm.
“Anna, your mother is just a delight!”
“Oh Cecile, you have been more of a mother to her than I. Anna, are you shaken? I’m sorry to impose, but when Pierre told me what happened I had to see you.” Anna Pavlov entered the room, her perfume hit me like smoke.
“Yes, yes I’m fine now. Was only a short scare.”
She came to me and took me in her thin arms. She was warm beneath her coat.
“But a scare nonetheless! I brought tea, is there a kettle in the kitchen? I’ll make some, it should calm us all.” She went to the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets.
Boris left into the other bedroom to drop Cecile’s luggage, returning with two large chairs in his tree trunk arms. He set them across from the sofa, a small table sat between. We gathered around cozily, the tea kettle screamed, and Anna brought us each a hot cup.
“What to do with these Italians.” she said, sitting alone on one of the heavy chairs. Cecile sat with Boris on the other, it was quite comical to watch them fuss over positioning until she rested on his lap. Pierre tapped my knee with his hand, in the same rhythm he taps his chin while thinking.
“The best option is to leave,” Pierre said suddenly.
“Leave? Leave Paris?” Cecile looked at me as she spoke, then turned to Anna Pavlov.
“Leave France,” he replied. “We are sitting ducks at the moment, it is our only real option. Though the collection cannot be moved, that poses a problem.”
“Yes, indeed we cannot leave the jewels. Pierre, how long until you will be finished?”
“If I work quickly, without resting, maybe three days at the earliest. I would rather take my time, it isn’t something that should be rushed.”
“I agree, it must be done correctly and with care. I can try my hand with the Italians. I’ll have Mr. Volkov send for some help from Moscow, I can have ten men here overnight. Unfortunately, I intend to cut business with the Italians, which will only bring more of them to the city.”
With Pierre’s agreement, Anna left the room to phone Mr. Volkov.