The Little Black Cigarette Chapter 4
Chapter Four: The Heist
Click here to see chapter one.
We parted ways around 8:00, planning to meet again in the late morning. The first thing Pierre asked me to do was to explain to Cecile what was needed of her, and while he was worried the information might prove overwhelming, I knew that Cecile would be thrilled to be involved. I called down to her room, and we met downstairs at Fouquet’s for coffee.
“Oh Anna, I know you must have had an incredible night, really, something out of a fairytale. But I must tell you mine was nothing short of unbelievable!”
“Unbelievable? Yea, yes of course I can imagine! And where did Boris take you?” Cecile looked younger than I left her last, ashing out her black cigarette, looking at me as if her world had been rebuilt overnight.
“Well I had assumed he would take me to some ritzy restaurant, you know like that Cafe Chic we went to for breakfast? I imagined feeling a bit out of place surrounded by so much gold and old bottles of wine. Oh I wouldn’t know how to act! I was preparing for the car to stop at all the top restaurants, you know me I looked up every single one in the city trying to prepare. But the car didn’t stop at a single one! We were dropped off in front of Pont de Bir-Hakeim, do you know it? The bridge just passed the Eiffel? And I won’t lie to you, I was disappointed at first. Oh Boris teased me! Laughed at my disappointment.”
“I can see you pouting now, just from memory.”
“Yes, pouting, but politely! It’s unfair to not tell a woman where the night is to begin, so I told Boris. He only laughed and brought me happily down to the water, and there waiting for us, with candles lit all around, was a small boat. Not just any boat! It was quite precious, made of this polished wood, if I knew boats I could explain it so much better!”
“No, you are doing just fine, I can imagine it now.”
“Anyway, Boris had a dinner catered to the boat, wine and cheese as well! So many different cheeses, I couldn’t possibly know their names. And we floated for hours, just up and down the Seine, looking at all the beautifully lit buildings. Boris was such a gentleman, always asking if I was okay and having a nice time, and I was simply having the best time in the world!”
I couldn’t help but think that while Cecile was having a hard time scraping a smile from her rosy cheeks, I was hyperventilating over the garden of tuileries.
“After we grew tired of the water, and I got a little bit of motion sickness, Boris insisted we go dancing! Can you think of it? Boris? His big muscly frame dancing? And he was wonderfully good at it! Lead me all over the many dance floors of the evening! I couldn’t tell you where we went, I was so blinded I don’t remember. It was the best night of my life, the best night.”
“I’m so happy to hear your disappointment was relieved. Your feet must be exhausted!”
“Oh yes, I took my shoes off around 1:00! Boris had to carry me back to the hotel. But, tell me! How was the gala! Did you see any famous people? Oh, I bet Ryan Gosling was there. Or Brad Pitt, did you meet Brad Pitt!”
“No, no. Unfortunately Brad couldn’t make it. But I will say the gala was underwhelming compared to your night of romance and we left early back to the suite.”
“Leaving early, on your first date! Doesn’t sound very underwhelming to me,” she winked, sipping her flat white mockingly.
“Oh nevermind that, there is something more pressing that we need to talk about. But you have to promise me you won’t make a scene. Can you promise that?”
She nodded, so I told her every word that Pierre spoke to me the night before, not leaving any detail out, just as Pierre had scripted.
“I suppose your night beats mine after all.” She pouted.
“I’m glad you’re taking it so well. Now listen, we have to meet Pierre and Boris in an hour, why don’t you go up and change and I’ll have the front desk bring the car around.”
“What, do you not like what I’m wearing now?” She flattened her overworn t-shirt against her chest comically.
“Just go change, and be quick about it would you? We have a lot to accomplish before tonight.” Cecile left, bouncing happily to the elevator doors.
I was glad to have her lightheartedness with me, and with her presence gone I began to sink into thoughts of how poorly today could go. Pierre had assured me that if we stuck to the plan, nothing could go wrong and I had believed him. He was confident in me, so much so that I thought he might have set his expectations too high. After the pressures of the night before, waking that morning tangled between his heavy arms I felt calm. So I reassured myself that as long as he was beside me, calm was all I could be.
We met Pierre and Boris outside a Stella McCartney boutique, its doors closed as it was Sunday. Boris and Cecile left towards Janssens & Janssens, a fabric store a few blocks away. Pierre knocked on the locked glass doors of the boutique, peering inside impatiently.
“I tell the man 9:00, knowing he wouldn’t be ready until 9:30, and yet! Here we are, waiting still.”
Pierre’s fidgeting was nothing more than nerves, I felt them too. I went to him and slid myself beneath his left arm and squeezed his side. With a heavy breath out, he took me in his arms, calmed, and thanked me with a kiss on my forehead.
An elderly man appeared, dressed fashionably with orange designer glasses perched on the bridge of his pointed nose. He rushed to unlock the glass doors, flinging them open at once.
“Ah Monsieur Aymard! What a pleasure! And who is this sweet flower? Ah, yes we are shopping for her today, a beautiful model for our new line! Come in, please come in.” He took my hand in his and kissed it. “Your name, mademoiselle?”
“Anna, nice to meet you?”
“Charles, feel free to call me Charlie, all the pretty ones do.”
“Nice to meet you, Charlie.”
He smiled, pausing for a moment as if he forgot why we had come.
“Well, have your way with the store! I’m just going to grab a few pieces from the back.” And he disappeared.
Pierre started pulling pants and blouses from the walls. Karli leather pants in black and nude. Aliya pants in a soft pink with the matching Iris jacket. An off the shoulder black knit jumpsuit. He was tapping his chin, switching his attention between my body and the walls of the boutique.
“All of these blouses are much too casual, they will only drown your beauty. I’ll have to have Julia go out and grab some others that are more suitable.”
“Too casual?” I gasped as I peeked at the price of the jumpsuit: 1,400 euros.
“Yes, much too casual. I hope he has the coat I wanted, we will be lost without it.”
As if hearing Pierre’s complaints, Charlie returned with a long fur coat draped carefully over both his arms.
“I won’t be putting this out until tomorrow, that should give you the day to be the first to wear it!” He handed Pierre the coat, motioning at me to try it on. “Oh how jealous Paris will be! You are absolutely stunning!”
I relaxed my shoulders under the weight of the coat.
“It’s perfect Charlie, really couldn’t have asked for more.” Pierre put the clothes in his hands down on a sofa, focusing all his attention on me.
Charlie guided me over to a full length mirror, patting my shoulders excitedly in our reflection.
“We’ll take all of these as well Charlie, if you could have them all sent to my flat that would be much appreciated.”
“Yes, of course whatever suits you! Lovely couple you are, you must send me a photo! Or come in once more before you leave again, Monsieur Aymard.”
“I wouldn’t think about leaving without a goodbye, mon ami. Thank you for your help.”
I smiled thankfully, giving Charlie a quick kiss on the cheek and we left the boutique.
Pierre and I took his car back to his flat, Cecile and Boris ran long at the fabric store which made Pierre a bit restless but they claimed to be finished within the hour. We took the elevator up to the top floor where Julia, Pierre’s maid of sorts, greeted us with hot espresso. The walls of Pierre’s flat were filled with massive pieces of abstract art, all shades of black and deep blue. I was captured by an acrylic painting in a small sitting area just outside his office while Pierre sifted through his messages.
“Ah, Pierre Soulages, my namesake. He is known as a leader in Europe’s Abstract Expressionism Movement, very inspired by Picasso. This piece is part of his Outrenoir series, as are the other’s found around my flat.”
“The texture is...confusing.” I say, not knowing how to explain my fascination with the black canvas before me.
“Yes! That is what I love. Light as I use it is a material, so he says, and truly it is. Sure his paintings are dark in color, a dangerous choice, but the real medium, the real genius, is how he uses different black textures as a reflector of light.”
“A wonderful namesake, Pierre.” I said lovingly.
“Yes, my mother was an angel.” He paused, staring blankly at the painting. “Anyway, come in here I have things to show you.”
I followed him into his office, the only dark room in the flat, which seemed to have only walls of windows. Along the back wall was a long, narrow console table holding red velvet trays on its top. We went quickly towards the trays, which upon my surprise, were showcasing jewels much like the ones we had seen briefly at the gala. Infact, if I had to guess they would have been the exact ones.
“These are my masterpieces. I’ve been setting them since Friday night when I left you at Le Fouquet’s. Do they look familiar?”
“Tremendously so. Are they real?”
“Real, sure. They are all jewels from my collection, though not as valuable as the Al Thani’s. To the naked eye they are perfect replicas, only under magnification and a keen eye of an appraiser would they be deemed fakes. The only piece that causes me some worry is the dagger.”
Pierre picked up the Shah Jahan Dagger, holding it delicately in his big hands.
“It’s the most valuable piece, marketed for over 3.4 million US dollars, so it must be perfect. The handle has given me some issues. The details are so intricate and without access to the original, I’ve had to make due with photographs and memory. The gala last night helped me clean it up some, but I can’t be sure how well it passes as authentic.”
He placed the dagger in my hands and I was surprised by its weight. I ran my fingers along the gold scrolling designs of the blade, which sat level in the steel.
“I see you’ve carried on your grandfather’s legacy so to say. This is incredibly impressive Pierre, I know that isn’t momentous praise considering I know nothing about fine jewelry.”
“Oh but you will, Anna. I may have my grandfather’s artistic capabilities, but I will never amount to his humility.” He kissed me on the cheek and returned the dagger to its velvet home. “I hope Boris and Cecile turn up quickly! We really need to start preparing, plus Boris promised to bring lunch and I’m starving!”
When the new couple finally arrived just before noon, we ate a fantastic spread of Greek food and went over every aching detail of the night. It wasn’t until 18:00 that Pierre finally cut us loose, sending Cecile and I back to the hotel for some much needed rest. We had two hours before he would pick me up and together we would head back to Hotel de La Marine for the second night of our adventure.
An hour before we were meant to leave, I dressed myself in black leather pants, a cream blouse Julia had so graciously picked for me, and a new pair of black stilettos. The fur coat was hung by the door. Hoping to calm my nerves I smoked a black cigarette and scanned the bookshelf for a light read. Without many English selections, I reached for the only familiar title on the shelf, Beyond Extravagance: A Royal Collection of Gems and Jewels. I flipped through the pages, filled with the Al Thani Collection, searching for the pieces Pierre had recreated at his flat. Their similarities were striking, it would be easy to mistake one for the other, so I told myself. I impulsively dialed Cecile’s room number, but after it rang for several minutes I gave up, hung up the phone and decided to have a glass of wine instead. She’s probably happily drifting down the Seine with Boris again, while I sit, moping nervously in my twenty thousand dollar suite. I couldn’t sit still and began to count down the minutes until 20:00.
Just before it was time, I grabbed the fur coat carefully and headed down to meet Pierre.
“You look lovely as always, a bit flushed if I do say so. Are you feeling alright? Here let me take the coat,” he said, reaching for the heavy fur and draping it casually over his arm.
“Yes I’m fine, I’m ready. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
We drove towards Hotel de la Marine, taking a different route as we would be entering through the back of the hotel from rue Saint-Honore. When we arrived we were greeted by two security guards who led us into the old tapestry room once again. The room still had its charm, even without the elegantly dressed crowd. Champagne filled crystal flutes were waiting for us on red dressed tables in the middle of the room. Pierre took two in his hand and gave one to me.
“Toi a pret ma petite?”
“Let the fun begin.” I said, confidently.
We were quickly joined by the rest of the guests. Pierre had discussed briefly who was to attend, and as each party showed up he whispered who each guest was. Padmanabh Jodhpar, royal prince of India. Prince Joachim and Princess Marie, Danish monarchy. Count Bernard and Countess Alexandria. Just before 20:30, a small Qatari man entered the room dressed in a long white thobe and ghutra, with accents of gold weaved through the agal. I remember Pierre mentioning our host for the evening was a very trusted man in the Al Thani family. Hamad.
“Wonderful to see you all once again. Just before we begin, there has been a slight change as our final guest was unable to make it. They have sent a replacement to view the collection for them. Please if you can wait a little longer, she will be arriving any moment.” Hamad left the room in a rush towards a salon along the back of the room, where the vault was surely kept.
Pierre looked at me, nodded, and then poked me twice sharply in the side. I began to giggle carelessly, growing louder as the room went quiet. I tossed my neck back while Pierre pretended to whisper something indecent in my ear. The Count and Countess began to peer in my direction and talk quietly amongst themselves, while the Indian Prince and Danish Royalty stared uncomfortably.
“I have to apologize, it seems Anna had a bit too much to drink over dinner,” he said to The Count and Countess, “Darling, please keep your rapture to a minimum.” He smiled graciously.
I reached for another flute of champagne.
“I think you’ve had plenty, don’t you?”
“Oh Pierre!” I giggled, nudging an elbow into the Indian Prince as if he was in on the joke, “He thinks this small glass of bubbles will do further damage. Well he would be wrong! Back in America,” I turned to address the Indian Prince, “I would compete in drinking competitions, do you know about these? Beer pong? Flip cup? Oh! And my personal favorite, strip poker!” The Prince’s face went from tensed to embarrassed as my hand fell on his royal shoulder. “You should have seen how quickly I won a game once everyone was down to only their skin! Might want to think about that for your next negotiation technique, it works without fail for Pierre!” I laughed again, louder this time, bending over in apparent seizure. The Indian Prince began to smile shyly.
“Anna, please!” Pierre said sharply, reaching for my glass.
“Oh you should relax, mon petit bebe! Besides, if I’m sipping on champagne I will be less inclined to talk!”
He let my glass be, shooting a loving smile towards me with only the squint of his eyes. I draped my arm through his, leaning on him with practically all my weight.
Just as I was about to further my act, Hamad returned to welcome our final guest. The security guards entered the room once again, followed by a graceful figure, her head facing downward, fiddling with her jacket, long dark hair swaying with her stride. Elizabeth looked up, giving Pierre a satisfactory grin.
“Hello Count Bernard, lovely to see you again. And Alexandria, just when I thought you couldn’t look more beautiful than last night! You’ve out done yourself, your dress is just stunning.” She greeted the rest of the party before making her way over to Pierre and me. Pierre gave me a light pat on the back, he didn’t seem worried that his old friend happened to turn up unexpectedly. I stepped forward as she approached, embracing her in an overly rambunctious hug, swinging her from side to side while her arms were trapped tightly beneath mine.
“Oh Elizabeth! I thought we might never cross paths again! Just as things were starting to get dry, here you are! Quite the happy surprise!” I felt myself overdoing it a bit, so I stepped back unstably. “Let me get you a drink!”
“No, that is quite alright Anna. I see you’ve been drinking enough for the both of us.” She rolled her eyes at Pierre and turned away from us to face Hamad.
“Well if everyone is acquainted, let us begin.” He turned and led us towards the back salon.
The salon was empty, besides a golden rug and a few chandeliers overhead that lit the walkway towards a large stone door on its back wall. I held tightly to Pierre’s arm, swaying every three steps or so. Hamad opened the stone door, followed by a steel, two paneled door which clicked and slid open after he entered a long code into its keypad. We all stepped inside, the door remained open behind us with the two security guards close by.
“Darling, isn’t that coat heavy and hot? Here allow me,” Pierre reached around my shoulders removing the fur coat and holding it in his arms.
“Thank you,” I said sweetly, kissing him on the cheek one too many times. Elizabeth gawped at us disgustingly.
“As you can see, we’ve laid out some of the more prized pieces of The Al Thani Collection for your viewing. Here, we have the Patiala ruby and pearl choker, which was once an ensemble of three ruby necklaces designed by Cartier for the royal family. It is a mystery as to why it was disassembled and left the Patiala royal family. It reappeared in 2000 on the Swiss market, many of its rubies and pearls are still missing.” Hamad went on to explain each piece in depth, all with broken histories.
“Those rubies look so familiar, don’t they Anna?” Elizabeth interrupted. “They are almost identical to that precious necklace you were wearing last night.”
I ignored her remark with a drunken hiccup.
Hamad continued his historical description of the 19th century Sarpesh, which held the name and birth dates of Jahangir and his son, Shah Jahan, on the attached inscribed spinels.
“The spinels date back over 200 years before being set into the sarpesh, no one is quite sure how the spinels left Shah Jahan’s possession, or who attached them to the sarpesh.”
When Hamad approached the Shah Jahahn Dagger I made my move. Crossing my right foot over my left, I tripped myself into Elizabeth, spilling my champagne down the front of her silk blouse beneath her jacket, shattering the flute on the stone floor of the vault. She screamed sharply as I held onto her in the small space of the vault.
“You indecent--you child!” She spat as the Count and Countess quickly approached to tend to her. The Indian Prince began to giggle, hushing himself with a hand over his mouth, he couldn’t pull his attention from the drenched woman. I stood calmly between Prince Joachim and Princess Marie, whispering apologetically to them, explaining how unpracticed I was walking in such high-heeled shoes.
“Please, Elizabeth, let me help you. I am so very sorry. My! It really has completely ruined your blouse! Please let me--”
“Get your drunk hands away from me before you make it worse!” She reproached, stepping out of the vault followed by The Count and Countess, who left with Elizabeth towards the restroom to apply water. Hamad followed behind them to settle the commotion. I glanced over at Pierr,e who was standing amongst the jewels, reaching slyly inside my fur coat where Cecile had sewn deep pockets. He moved quickly, replacing the jewels with his own. The Prince turned to follow my eyes, but I placed my hand on his shoulder asking if he would be happy to stabilize me while I adjusted my heels. I slipped my arm through his and led him to the Danish Royals, explaining to them how terribly I felt having caused such a commotion.
“Oh dear, it’s quite okay” The Princess said graciously, “We were practically at the end of the showing anyhow! Besides, my husband was beginning to complain over his hunger.”
I smiled, thanking her and the Danish Prince.
“I should really go apologize to Elizabeth again, would you mind joining me? She doesn’t seem to like me much,” I took her hand in mine, walking out of the vault, both The Indian Prince and her husband following behind. Pierre came along slowly, with my coat.
We reached the restroom just as Elizabeth and Alexandria were leaving it, her blouse soaked with water and champagne, still blotching the fabric with tissues. She scowled at my presence.
“Well! What an evening!” said Hamad, addressing the group as a whole. “If there aren’t any questions, we can gladly end the viewing here, seeing as some of us might be uncomfortable to continue.” He looked in the direction of Elizabeth apprehensively.
“Yes, the evening is absolutely ruined,” she said under her breath.
“I had a splendid time!” The Indian prince smiled, patting my shoulder, “Thank you for the invitation Hamad! It was a pleasure to meet you, Anna.” He squeezed my hand gently in his.
“Okay! If you would all be so kind as to follow me, I’ll escort you outside while the guards secure the vault.”
When we were finally safely back in the car, on our way to Pierre’s flat, he reached inside the coat and removed the Taj Mahal Emerald. It sat gently in his hand.
“Oh Anna, you were wonderful! Let’s get these back locked up in my safe. Then we must go celebrate!” he kissed my face all over, squeezing my cheeks between his hands. What a rush. I grabbed both his hands, moving them away from my face, looking up at him with my excited eyes. I leaned towards him, kissing him gently on his lips for the first time. He held me there, kissing me harder as if he had been holding back his infatuation all weekend. I felt my body finally give way to him.
He rolled down the windows and we smoked a black cigarette each, the smoke carrying out of the car, up into the forgiving Parisian sky.
Music from Pierre’s terrace flooded the streets below. Cecile and Boris were outside dancing like drunkards when we arrived with the coat full of stolen jewels. Pierre went straight to his office to lock them up, and I went out to the terrace to break the good news.
“Oh happy day!” Cecile rang out, grabbing my hands and swinging me out into the brisk air. She spun me around, her laugh getting lost in the tunnel of sounds. “And how were you? Just the best young actress in Paris, I’m sure of it!”
“She was superb,” said Pierre as he joined us. He handed Boris a cigar. “You should have seen the commotion she caused! Spilling champagne all down Elizabeth! She even made some new friends while doing it.”
“Elizabeth! That vile woman from the gala? She was there?”
“Yes, it was much to our surprise as well. She took the place of one of the invitees that couldn’t make it. Quite purposefully, I’d suppose.” Pierre puffed the cigar, taking a seat to watch the rest of us make fools of ourselves. Boris had brought out a bottle of Macallan Scotch, taking an expensive swig straight from the bottle.
“I hope you two aren’t too far ahead of us,” I said to Cecile, who was dancing alone now.
“You’ll have to do your best to catch up! Boris, pour some for Anna and I, s'il vous plaît. What a day!”
“Well girls hurry up, I’ve gotten us a table for 23:00 at L’Arc! We can drink on the way!”
I went to change into the jumpsuit Pierre bought for me earlier that day, placing the ruby necklace back around my neck where it belonged. At the club, Pierre had pre ordered six bottles of Cristal. From the garden terrace we could see the Arc de Triomphe brightly lit against the dark sky. Metallic bronze covered the walls. Cecile and Boris disappeared into the wave of bodies that filled the dance floor. Silver lights flashed in unison with the deep bass from the DJ booth. Champagne. Black Cigarettes. Pierre’s hands finding their way to my hips. Gold confetti. Fireworks. My hands unbuttoning his shirt. His lips, my tongue.
Leaving the club I glanced at the time, 4:30. A few miles away the Scalise brothers were triggering the motion sensor Pierre had not deactivated as they entered the vault. In a matter of minutes they would be taken away by police, caught red handed stealing imposter jewels from Hotel de la Marine.
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