The Little Black Cigarette Chapter 5
Chapter Five: The Jeweler
When I woke I found myself blinded by the Parisian sun, blinking away the white light furiously until I could make out the hidden figure in front of me. Pierre, grinning widely from his seat at the front of the boat, reached out and brushed my hair from my face. I grabbed his hand and held it against my cheek. My memories, suddenly awakened by the black cigarette, were projected in front of me so that I could see things clearly. The four of us were floating down the Seine, towards a meeting with whomever Pierre hoped to be The Jeweler.
“What a trip that was.” I said, still adjusting to my surroundings.
“It is nice to have you back to yourself,” Pierre said lovingly, “I’d begun to worry you’d forgotten all our fun.”
“Fun, yes that’s exactly how you would characterize it.”
He chuckled and turned into the wind. We passed under Pont Alexander III, cruising by the many young couples sitting along the Seine drinking wine and smoking cigarettes. Their faces all looked the same from the water, effervescent figures dancing in the sun.
“What are in these little mysterious tubes anyhow?” asked Cecile, holding a black cigarette tentatively between two fingers.
“Opium mostly, but its potency is alleviated with other plants to help with the withdrawals. It’s quite the concoction, something I picked up from my time with the Italians. They move shipments of it across Europe, only to the highest rollers. It’s a bit of a pricey drug.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like it!”
“That’s the idea, no two clients call it the same thing. We’re almost there now. Boris, you and Cecile can take the boat, I’m not sure how long we will be so we can meet up back at the hotel. Has there been any news about the Scalise brothers?”
“Nothing from the press yet, though judging by the police scanners this morning I’m assuming The Qatari Foundation is doing their best to keep it quiet. I’ll keep checking in with my informants.” Boris had spread himself across the back of the tiny boat, his eyes were closed and Cecile was pressing her lips to his every so often.
“Well, they can’t keep it quiet forever. We just have to complete our business before it gets too hectic to move around in this city undetected.”
We slowed just before Pont D’lena on the right side of the bank. Pierre and I stepped out, sending a quick goodbye to Boris and Cecile, then we took the nearest stairs up to Avenue de New York. Warsaw Square was flooded with tourists pouring their way onto the green surrounding Fontaine du Trocadéro. People stopped abruptly in front of the fountain, taking photos or making a comfortable picnic on its grass. A child ran away from his mother, making a break for the water before getting scooped up and taken away crying. We had trouble moving through the crowd with Pierre’s black suitcase by his side. We were to meet inside the Cite de L'architecture in ten minutes, following instructions from Pierre’s mysterious client. We rushed up the steps, behind the fountain, and into the building on the right. Stone columns, masterful sculptures, and red walls. The museum was practically empty besides a guided tour that entered just before us. Pierre and I acted occupied by the intricate medieval architecture as we waited.
As the tour passed us for a second time Pierre was impatiently checking his watch, when a man peeled away from the crowd. He was tall, slim and well dressed. He held nothing, and dragged his left leg slightly behind him with a smooth limp. His boots clicked in the silence of the museum.
“It seems we are left alone,” said the man, his thick Russian accent clouding his words.
“It would appear so,” answered Pierre.
The man offered his hand, Pierre took it in his.
“That is a beautiful necklace,” the man turned in my direction. His mouth was cradled by frowning lines as he attempted a smile. “Not many have such a keen eye for precious jewelry.”
He took my hand and kissed it once.
“Pierre, I have heard so much of you.”
“All good things, I hope.”
“All things are good until they are proven bad. I assume you are carrying something that is most valuable to my employer.”
“Who might that make you?”
“I’m just the eyes and mouth. Shall we walk?”
We moved upstairs where we would be less disturbed.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” the man addressed me again.
“This is Anna, my partner.”
“Anna?” The man was surprised. “Anna what a lovely name, what is your full name?”
“Anna Sullivan,” I said, unsure if that was information I felt comfortable revealing, but Pierre didn’t seem worried, he only smiled approvingly.
“Sullivan.” He tossed the name over his tongue slowly. “It doesn’t suit you. No, you’re much darker than a Sullivan.”
“Just as I told her. Now, Mr?”
“Volkov.”
“Mr. Volkov, should we proceed?”
“Yes, of course. I’m sure you have brought an item for me, though I have a feeling my employer might want to have this meeting instead. It has just become increasingly more interesting. May I see it?”
Pierre unlatched the small case, lifted out a velvet pouch, and handed it to Mr. Volkov. He untied the drawstrings and peered inside, smiling as the light slipped into the dark pouch. The Taj Mahal Emerald sat safely between the fabric.
“I’m satisfied. Will you follow me? We can proceed with our business at a cafe nearby. My employer is waiting.”
He made a short phone call.
Restaurant Le Coq sat behind the museum, directly across from Passy Cemetery on Place du Trocadero. From outside I could see its light blue, glass sculpture which towered up from its center, reflecting powerfully off the mirrored ceiling. Waiters were hustling around its interior, filling wine glasses with water, and water glasses with gin. Filets of fish, basil soaked snails, and lightly fried shrimp filled my nose. Tables for two lined the room, with long couches placed in its middle. Mr Volkov led us through the middle towards a couch near the back. Glasses clinked, forks scraped plates, women laughed animatedly.
As we approached the couch, a woman could be seen facing away from us and towards the back wall. Her red hair was pulled tightly into a knotted bun, beneath a black netted veil which surely covered her eyes as well. Her right arm was spread across the back of a tan couch, diamonds dangled off her many bracelets, bouncing light between the mirrors and the massive ring on her third finger. A jade stone. Smoke was lifting into the air from her opera length cigarette holder and its sweet, familiar scent drifted into my nose.
Mr. Volkov brought us to the woman in black, sitting us in the two chairs across her table. She didn’t rise as we sat. I looked towards Pierre who was blinking in amazement.
“Anna,” he said quietly, though not addressing me but the woman before us.
“Pierre, what a handsome man you’ve become. Your father must be so proud.” She held her hand out for him to take in his. “And who is this lovely partner I’ve heard so little about?”
“This is Mademoiselle Sullivan, your excellency,” Mr. Volkov said, standing closely behind us.
“Anna,” I said, offering her my hand as well. She reached out, took it in both of her hands and squeezed it tightly. Her face was pained as she smiled. Her lips, painted with a dark maroon, were stark against her white skin.
“Anna, what a pleasure. Pierre, I am disgusted with you for hiding her from me.” Her look was serious.
“The world was hiding her from the both of us, but here we are and we must not fester with the past now.”
Anna’s eyes peered down at his intimate hand on mine.
“Yes, of course. Now I’ve been told you have something for me, may I see it?”
Pierre handed her the same velvet pouch he had given to Mr. Volkov. She didn’t open it, only felt its weight and shape in her palm and handed it back.
“I would like to congratulate you and speak briefly about our future if you’ll allow me,”
Pierre nodded along, never having been so quiet.
“The Italians have caused quite a ruckus as of late. Headlines! I’ve never seen so many headlines! And I’m sure we are both waiting for one more today. With that in mind, my business cannot be involved with such exposure, and I would like to present you with a proposition. Perhaps two, if this first one works to my liking.”
“What can I help you with?”
“I think we will be helping each other tremendously. As I understand it you have a long interest in the Al Thani Collection, but your true interest is in your grandfather. Am I correct to assume this?”
“Yes, family is very important to me, as I know it is to you.”
“Family is all that we have to rely on, my father taught me that. Blood is different when it is shared. Ah, yes thank you Volkov,” he handed her a small cup of black tea, “You can go now, I’ll be fine.” She took a sip before continuing, Mr. Volkov left out the front doors. “I have a lot of information about your grandfather, things I learned from my father, things I experienced myself. He was a good man, something I’m sure you already know. He worked closely with my father, they were dear friends. Your grandfather’s death troubled my father for some time.”
“His death has troubled me to this day.”
“And I hope to help you heal. But first what I need from you. I understand you have quite a collection yourself?”
“Yes, I’ve stumbled upon some pieces over the years. My grandfather left some with a friend of his who graciously passed them on to me.”
Anna nodded understandingly.
“I see. Florian was his name wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Florian. Did you know him?”
“More than I would have liked to. Anyhow, I have a collection as well and together with yours, and our new acquisitions, I think they would make quite the show. As a collector yourself, I’m sure you understand the importance of original condition and of history. I would like to return the Al Thani’s to their original state as my father had intended. You can help me do that, you have your grandfather’s gift as I understand.”
“I can’t say I’m as talented as he was.”
“Oh he is only being modest,” I interjected, “He’s wonderfully talented; a gifted artist. I’ve seen his work first hand.”
“I see you’ve made quite the devoted fan out of her,” Anna laughed, not taking her eyes from Pierre’s. “I have a warehouse, underground of course. We can use that as a starting point. I’ll have Volkov contact you with the details. Does tomorrow morning suit you? Of course it does.”
Volkov came back through the restaurant moving as quickly as he could manage with his bum leg. He whispered in Anna’s ear.
“It seems the Scalise Brother’s have created a commotion, won’t be long now before the papers get a hold of things. Do keep safe Pierre, but more importantly keep her out of harm's way. That’s a direct order from your new boss.” And with a wink of her heavily mascaraed lashes, she took Volkov’s arm and left the restaurant.
“Anna we should be leaving as well, it will be better to lay low for a while.”
“Are you worried the police will know you’re involved?”
“No, the Scalise Brothers would never utter a word, they live by the Omerta. It isn’t the police that will come after us. Now come on, gather yourself and let’s catch a taxi back to the suite, I’m sure Boris and Cecile are already there waiting.”
Us?
Cecile and Boris had let themselves into the suite and opened up a few bottles of wine before we arrived. Boris had three different computers running in the office, along with a police scanner and some sort of small portable generator. We found them outside on the terrace.
“Boris! Come here I need you for a moment. My apologies Cecile, I’ll have him back in a moment.” Boris and Pierre went inside to the office.
Cecile seemed unbothered, she stretched out on one of the chairs where I joined her, pouring myself a glass of wine. I finished it and poured another.
“That must have been some meeting!”
“He’s hiding something from me.”
“Who? Pierre? What else could the man possibly be hiding? He adores you, Anna. He--”
“He is hiding something.” I picked up a Poppy from the table and began to smoke.
“Did you meet The Jeweler? Who is he?”
“Not so much a he, but a she. A Russian woman, whom Pierre already knew and she knew him as well, from when he was a child.”
“A woman! Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“The Jeweler was her father, she’s taken over his business since he passed. I assume no one is aware of the change, being that there aren’t many that must deal with her directly. But Cecile,” I moved my seat closer so I could lower my voice, “She knew me. I know she did. The way she looked at me, the way she held my hand in hers. She was gentle and intimate. She seemed angry with Pierre, and not because he didn’t execute what she wanted. She was angry that I was there.”
“Anna, how could a Russian woman from the underground know you? It could be she is only worried you’ve been dragged into this mess of sorts.”
“It was her name.”
“Her name?”
“Her name is Anna.”
“Anna!” Pierre had poked his head out onto the terrace. “Anna, darling you need to gather your things. You too Cecile. We will be much more safe at my flat where I can control who comes and goes out of the building. Quickly girls, we don’t have time to waste.”
“When did we become so worried about our safety?” Cecile whispered to me, gathering up the glasses and empty wine bottles.
“Leave those Cecile, they can pick those up when we leave. Pierre is worried about the Italians. I think he’s expecting some retaliation for his double cross of the Scalise Brothers. I’m not so sure about all of this anymore, but we’re safer with them.”
“There you go again! Safety!” She stumbled inside, tossing her hands in the air. “And just who are these Italians, Pierre? Mario! Luigi?” She trailed off into the bedroom.
Pierre was snickering with Boris.
“We may have gone overboard with the wine!” Boris boasted from the office.
“I’ll go with her to her room and help with her things. When will you be ready to leave, Pierre?”
“Ten minutes. Meet you downstairs, ma cherie?” He kissed me long, his hands hard on my shoulders. I wanted to sink into his chest.
“Ten minutes,” I said and ran to collect Cecile.
Julia handed a note to Pierre when we arrived at his flat, and a second note she handed to me.
“These were dropped off a few moments before you arrived by Mr. Volkov.” she said politely.
“Yes, thank you Julia. Feel free to take a few days off, I won’t be needing you.”
Julia thanked him, gathered her things, and left quickly before Pierre could change his mind.
“I was under the impression that sweet French flower lived here with you,” Cecile joked.
I opened my note, Cecile peered inconspicuously over my shoulder.
Au Petit Suisse 20:00 Come alone.
I checked the clock, if I was to make it on time I would have to change right away. I could walk to the restaurant from Pierre’s flat, it was only a few blocks away. I knew the restaurant well, it was a quaint little eatery, not many seats but very friendly service. I preferred its kitchen to those Pierre rented out entirely.
“Well, it looks as though I should be going.” I said.
“What? Where do you have to be now?” Pierre was bewildered.
“Anna has asked me to dinner. Au Petit Suisse.”
“Oh that charming little shack! You loved that place when we went!” Cecile hung on my arm, her charmed eyes smiling brightly at mine. Boris took her by the arm and left the room.
“Anna, I really wish you wouldn’t go. It will be dark soon, and the thought of you being alone with all this going on will make me sick. If you would let me come along—”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice, my note is a clear indication you are not to join me. Really Pierre, I will be fine. I just have to change quickly.”
I moved to his bedroom where I put my belongings.
“Anna, we can get a hold of her another way. I’ll send Boris to apologize for your absence. If you would just stay!”
“Pierre, this isn’t as much of an inconvenience as you are making it!” I was bothered by his persistence. He was jittery and shifted in his expensive boots like a child.
“Listen to me, Anna. There are things you don’t know, things I haven’t told you yet. And I haven’t told them to you because I don’t think you are ready to hear them!”
“I know you are hiding something from me, and I think it is my decision whether or not I am ready to hear it. Now I am going.”
He held onto my hand, bringing me closer to him.
“How can you know you are ready for something if you do not understand what that something is? The magnitude of it? Please, let’s at least sit and talk before you go. You must hear it from me first.”
“Whatever it is Pierre, I will hear it one way or the other. We don’t know what Anna wants of me. We can talk when I’m back.”
“There can be only one thing she wants, I’m sure of it.” He let go of my hand and sat defeatedly on his bed.
I ran my fingers through his hair, tilting his chin up with my skinny fingers. I kissed his pouting lips and grabbed my coat.
“I trust that you are thinking of me and me alone, Pierre.”
So I left.
The outdoor tables of Au Petit Suisse were filled with smoking customers. The heaters above the smoke clouds were buzzing faintly as I passed them into the dim restaurant. I saw Anna almost immediately, tucked away from the busy tables in the back corner upstairs. I climbed the small staircase and approached her. She was dressed more casually, in black satin pants and a rose blouse. Her makeup was lighter on her eyes than before. I could see her life on the creases of her face.
“Bonsoir, Anna.” She said in a delicately hidden Russian accent. I took her hand in mine and sat across from her. She poured me a glass of a partially filled bottle of red. “I’m glad my note reached you in time.”
“Yes, we arrived just after Mr. Volkov left I believe.”
“And how is Pierre? In good spirits?”
“He was a bit worried about me coming alone. I think the chaos of the day was getting to him.”
“Ah Pierre, a worrier like his father. I knew him briefly as a boy when my father inserted himself into Monsieur Aymard’s business. He was such an adventurous boy, always after some sort of mystery. I see that quality hasn’t left with his innocence.”
“Your father was a mysterious man himself, I've been told.”
“Oh he was many things,” she laughed fondly at her memory of him. “But yes he had many secrets. As do I.”
“I’m coming to find I’m surrounded by people with secrets.”
“Yes, I can imagine how exhausting it all is. I know I am exhausted by my own darkness. I hope to alleviate some of that in you tonight.”
“I don’t know how much you can help, we’ve only just met.”
“My dearest Anna. Don’t you see?” She placed a photograph on the table. It was of a young woman, long red hair wildly draped over her shoulders. In her arms was a small child, wrapped in blankets. She was smiling down at the child who seemed calm in her arms. Anna slid the photograph towards me and I took it in my hands.
“I don’t understand,” I said, looking closer at the photograph. It was dated in the corner, August 8th 1996, a year after my birth.
“You see that is the last picture taken of us together.”
“Of you and I? I don’t understand, my mother was not Russian. I am not Russian.”
“Yes of course, your last name is Sullivan. Your grandparents were Marie and Timothy Wilson. I knew them well, Marie was the closest thing I had to a mother. Only I knew her as Marie Harris, before she married Timothy. Even after they married Marie Wilson had always sounded forced to me.”
“How did you know them? My grandparents—”
“Marie raised me. My mother died shortly after childbirth, and Marie was my mother’s wetnurse. When I was a baby my father had no time to raise a child alone, and Marie stayed on as a nanny. She taught me everything I know today. I loved her very much.” Anna’s eyes welled shallowly with tears as she smiled. “And when I was with child, she became my daughter’s nanny as well, for the short time I had with her.”
“The child in the photo,” I began.
“The child is you.”
“I don’t understand, it simply doesn’t make sense. I was born in Chicago, my mother--”
“You were told what we decided was easiest at the time, though now I can see how terrible of a mistake it was. You are so disconnected from your past. I am so sorry for how lost you must feel. I am sorry for all of it, but you have to let me explain. Let me do my best to show you I was protecting the only thing I’ve ever loved.”
I held the photograph in my hand, it trembled between my fingers. My mother was dead, Grandma Wilson had told me so much. I remember the photographs she would show me in a small album she kept by her bedside. My mother, a healthy young woman dressed in lofty fabrics and fur hats. My mother, pregnant with me, playing cards with my father. My mother, just as beautiful as the woman in Anna’s photograph, had the same piercing eyes as the woman before me now. I began to cry helplessly, I didn’t know what to believe. When did my old life end and this one begin? I knew she wasn’t lying, I knew there was something connecting us when I first met her earlier that day.
“I can’t--I don’t know what questions to ask.”
“Why don’t you let me tell you from the beginning. From the moment I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep you safe.”
I stared at her through my glossed eyes.
“Your father Alexander was a sweet man, young and ambitious when he started working for my father. At the time my father was running opium from Russia throughout Eastern Europe and Alex was in charge of expanding it into the western countries. I would take trips with him to Spain, Italy, and France. We were young, but very much in love. Your father was a kind man. When I found out I was pregnant, he insisted I stopped going on long trips, for your sake. My father was very cautious of my safety at the time, and while I was generally rebellious, I could feel your life inside me and that was enough for me to settle. I stayed in Moscow while Alex spent longer and longer time away. The opium business was beginning to take off, we were moving shipments into every major city and eventually my father instructed Alex to pass it on to another family, so that he could distance himself from the distribution. It was safer that way, minimizing the connections. Alex relied heavily on the Italians and spent most of his time in Sicily. When the Italians took over Alex’s job for my father I thought he would come home. I waited and waited for what felt like years, and you were growing more and more everyday. The stress was bad for my health and the doctors worried, mostly Marie worried, about the birth. When you finally arrived, Alex hadn’t been heard from for six months. The longest six months of my life.” She took a sip of wine, her hands were shaking as she set the glass down so I placed my hand on hers to comfort her. “I never heard from him. Your father would never leave me, I know that. He would never leave us. And that is how I knew he would never be coming back. I don’t know what he got into, but my father’s business was very dangerous and Alex knew what he had signed up for, as did I. But when you arrived, Anna, you were my little treasure. Your face was so pale and innocent, so untouched by the darkness you were born into. I couldn’t let you live the life I had grown to hate in those years. So I had Marie take you away.”
“To the states?”
“To England at first, but yes to the states eventually. I kept in close contact with Marie. She would send photos and letters consistently, and I sent money to help as much as she would allow. She loved you as her own, I know that. But when she grew sick, you were only nine and Timothy was so overwhelmed. When child services came there were no legal records, nothing could prove that you were their own. Even your last name had been changed to hide you from people that went looking. That was our first mistake.”
“I remember them taking me away. I couldn’t understand how they could do that? Even when Marie was healthy again I couldn’t go back.”
“Yes, I lost track of you then. I couldn’t find what home they sent you to or where you were at all. You must understand my heartbreak, my constant heartbreak of you there alone.”
I remember my first home in Chicago. The Johnson’s had nearly eight foster children in the three years I was there. It was so easy to become unnoticed. Leave early, stay out late. I was only 13 when I decided to leave and never come back. I worked as a busser for a Chinese restaurant just behind the local high school where I met Cecile. Living in public housing alone. Cooking noodles with butter when I couldn’t take something home from the restaurant. The smell of chemicals wafting through the ventilation. It took two years for Cecile to convince me to move in with her family, already struggling to support their own children. I was a burden to everyone. No matter how many people I was around, I was always alone.
“All this time I thought I had no one left.” I felt anger sweeping over my memories.
“Yes, yes I know that must have been how you felt. But I was always searching. I had even gone to Chicago to visit Marie in the hospital when you were taken away. I lost you, Anna. I lost you and there is no excuse but you must know what is in my heart. I was always loving you.”
I put my head down as a waiter approached and handed us both menus. I wiped away the slow tears as I tried to read the glossy French before me.
“Do you like duck? They have a great canard confit, let’s both have that.”
I nodded and she sent the waiter away with our order.
“When you applied for college I was able to follow you again. I kept a close eye on your schooling, your many accolades, those short stories you published in your University’s journal! I was so proud, I am still so proud of what you have become. Your strength is just as your father’s was, an undeniable determination.”
“Why didn’t you come then? Why didn’t you come when they died? When I needed something, anything to hold on to. I had nothing.”
“You had Cecile, she helped you. But I’ll confess, I was scared of what you would think of me and all the confusion my presence would cause. I know I was wrong, I know that now at this moment. I can see your pain is just as mine is.” She reached out again to hold my hand and I let her.
“And Pierre, does he know?”
“Yes. I suspect he was searching for you just as I was. You see the memories he has of me from when he was a child were from while I was pregnant. He was young, but I knew the moment he saw me today he had remembered it all. He knew I couldn’t resist seeing you if he brought you along. You have always been my weakness, that is why I stayed away for so long. But now it seems he has brought you to me. It is better that it’s him rather than someone else.”
“Aren’t you angry with him?”
“I couldn’t stay angry with him long after seeing you. The thought of you has brought me so much despair over the years, and now so much happiness I’m unsure what to do with it.”
Our food was brought to the table. I could only stare at it, having lost my appetite.
“I don’t think I can eat either darling, don't worry. If you want I can take you back to Pierre’s, this has been a lot for the both of us.”
“I’m unsure if I want to be around him at all anymore.” I knew Pierre had tried to tell me what he was keeping from me before I left his flat, but that only angered me further.
“You must be upset, you have every right to be angry at us both. But I know Pierre is a good man, with a fine heart, and you won’t be safe anywhere else.”
I knew she was right and agreed to head back to the flat. We made plans to see each other the next day in the evening. She wanted to hear all she had missed, all the memories she had only watched from afar. I too wanted to know about her. Whoever she was, she felt as close to family as anyone had been before her. Leaving the restaurant I grieved the me that walked in naively just hours before.