It'll take a bold man to get out of this lion's den alive - in Inspector Pascal's biggest case! 4000-word short story fiction crime-solving adventures of Inspector Pascal Mysteries! INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 4000
#1 True Enough, by T.K. Naliaka ©2016 Overhead, a crystal chandelier sparkled. Ahead, a politely stern man intercepted them before they reached the doormen, “Bonsoir, Monsieur Gustavo; your invitation, please.” “Good evening, Evandro.” Gustavo reached inside his black tuxedo jacket and pulled out the ivory white card engraved in gold and indigo. Evandro considered the card for a moment. He raised his eyes to consider the man standing just behind Gustavo, “Monsieur?” The other considered him politely, yet with a slight coolness. Gustavo gestured to indicate him, “My guest.” Evandro considered him, the man was slighter taller than he, straight and lean in his black tuxedo and crisp white shirt, with brown hair and keen hazel eyes. Evandro checked his notebook, comparing him to the photo he’d been furnished of him, “Votre nom?” “Pascal.” Evandro’s gaze shifted to focus on a bigger man also in a tuxedo behind Pascal. “Bodyguards are not allowed to enter with their weapons. He must wait outside.” The big man bowed slightly and went to stand by one of the marble columns with a good view of both the foyer entry and the hall entry. There were four other men close to his size, in tuxedos doing the same; obviously they knew the basics of picking a strategic vantage point, too. He affected the same sort of scowl as bodyguards do when forced to be separated from the person they were tasked to protect. They were all scowling. The protocol completed, Evandro announced. “Monsieur Pascal, you have been expected.” Pascal tipped his head slightly and followed Gustavo inside. It was an immense hall, evoking royal galleries of days gone by. Pascal took in every detail – the grand woven tapestries on the walls of battle scenes and ancient maps, silk banners and standards with military crests and motifs hung overhead from massive oak ceiling arches. A long polished dark mahogany table with crystal and gold place settings with fine white linen for thirty guests seemed somewhat small for the space. At the far end of the long room was a massive stone fireplace and hearth under a huge painted mural. Pascal walked slowly along to stop before it, looking up at the scene of clashing knights at summit palaces under pure white clouds in a brilliant blue desert sky. Gustavo stood near him and murmured. “It’s mesmerizing, isn’t it?” “My dear Gustavo! I am so pleased that you came tonight!” They turned around. Gustavo put out his hand to greet the man who clasped it firmly as he gravely held Gustavo’s gaze. “A faithful comrade in these times is worth more than gold.” Gustavo indicated his companion, “Volturno, permettez-moi de vous présenter Monsieur Pascal.” Volturno let Gustavo go and bowed, “Bienvenue!” Pascal replied, “Merci.” Volturno gestured to one of the passing waiters carrying a tray of glasses of champagne. He lifted two off the tray and gave one each to Gustavo and Pascal, then took a third for himself, “Very good! I see that everyone is here, so we can begin!” Volturno walked to stand in front of the great stone hearth and tapped his glass slightly to catch everyone’s attention. The conversations quieted. Volturno raised the slender flute of pale champagne. The guests raised their glasses. “It is our duty to gather here today as our scattered brethren are also doing elsewhere, in solemn remembrance on this anniversary of the treachery of the king against the knights of honor, to renew our resolve to the call of duty, our fraternity and our shared destiny!” They all drank. Three waiters stepped forward and held their trays out to take the empty glasses and left. Volturno went to each guest, “My dear Jean-François, here is your seat, here are you Gunter…” Gustavo and Pascal were shown their place cards. They sat down together, five seats from the left of Volturno’s place at the head of the table. A waiter hovered by Pascal’s right shoulder with a bottle of wine wrapped in a white linen napkin, “Sir, what will you take?” Pascal replied. « Du vin blanc » Volturno watched the waiter pour for Pascal, then he indicated a glass of white for himself. He raised it to Pascal. “I consider myself an astute judge of men. I didn’t expect that a man of your comportment would be drinking.” Pascal picked up his glass, gently swirled it, then watched how the wine drained down the sides. “If you think that your guests would be the types to raise their glasses and not imbibe your offered wine, then you are remiss as a host by not providing some convenient potted plants into which to pour it.” The other guests were silent, waiting for Volturno’s reaction. A moment later, Volturno smiled slightly, raised his glass and drank, then he lowered it and set it on the table. After the waiters departed, his expression hardened, then he stood up slowly, leaned forward, rested his hands on the table and looked down for a long moment. Volturno sighed and looked up, “Dear brothers! What kind of treachery does Gustavo deal to us by inviting in not a friend, but an enemy to destroy us and everything we have achieved to this point?” Gustavo paled. He stood up quickly, “Volturno!” Volturno turned on him coldly. “Sit down!” Gustavo’s hands were shaking as he sank back onto his chair. “Hercule was my friend! I wanted to find what happened!” Volturno glared at him from the head of the table. “It’s a strange way to find the truth by resorting to subterfuge!” As the members on either side of them quickly shifted their chairs further away, Pascal tossed his napkin on the table and stood up. “It’s not necessary to be oblique. Monsieur Gustavo invited me here because Hercule was murdered. Hercule has a transcending human right to have his murderer named and brought to justice.” Pascal looked at all of the seated men staring at him. “Each one of you would want the same if this heinous act was done against you, is that not correct?” Pascal turned to Volturno. “Since the sum total of all my subterfuge has been expediently exposed, how about yours?” Volturno was still for a moment, then he pushed himself off his hands with a slight smile. “You’re a bold man in a lion’s den! I had the image of a homicide investigator as a bit plodding and tedious, hardly up to the intricacies of complexities.” “That’s quite the statement,” replied Pascal. “How about keeping it in simplistic terms that even a child can understand, as in where were you the night of 11th April?” The men in the room shifted about uncomfortably. Volturno spoke quickly to them. “Every one of you here has a vested interest in the outcome of this!” Pascal countered. “They may not want to wear that vest you’re suggesting if it means being clothed in accessory to murder.” Volturno’s eyes blazed. “An infiltrator is easier to reconcile than a traitor.” Gustavo went another shade paler. Pascal stepped around to stand beside Gustavo as he addressed Volturno. “Well, that would depend on one’s perspective. To others, Hercule and Gustavo might be patriots who recoiled from selling out just for your personal project.” Volturno reposted. “I beg to differ; I don’t have a personal project, but a duty to our tradition and faith.” Pascal leaned forward, stern and cool. “What sort of traditional duty and faith includes murder?” Volturno shook his head. “The right to self-defense has never been classed as murder.” Pascal countered. “Is it not for a court to judge whether an act was self-defense rather than self-interest?” Volturno turned out his hands reasonably. “That presumes the court has not been corrupted.” “That’s true enough to be a convincing excuse, but not true enough to be excusable!” Pascal eased back and looked at all the men watching them. “We see the problem. How to be rid of all this, particularly Gustavo, but then there’s police right here too. You invoked faith. It’s going to require an impressive leap of faith to assume you’ll get a ploddier, more pedantic investigator unaccustomed to comprehending nuances assigned to this case after you’ve done away with me. More likely you’ll get the cream of the crop for such an atrocity against law enforcement. I advise all the witnesses here that if you go down that path, the law will consider you accomplices, not innocent bystanders!” Volturno sat down and leaned back. “You are an intelligent man, I appreciate that. I would say that your abilities are probably highly undervalued where you are.” Pascal considered all the members watching him and then Volturno. “If you mean that I couldn’t afford on my salary the price of the admission to this group, then you are correct. However, what’s the price one can put on a peaceful sleep? Have any of you slept well since Hercule’s body was found washed up from the sea?” Volturno smiled slightly. “Your strategy tonight to extract yourself now that you’ve been exposed is to appeal to our brothers that if anything happens to you, the law will diligently pursue them, so their best choice would be to cooperate with you.” Pascal replied. “Immunity is worth quite a bit. It’s always valuable counseling people about all the options available to them so they don’t make rash and uniformed decisions that they later regret.” Volturno pursed his lips slyly. “But what if the diligence of the law you are relying on isn’t as solid as you believed it to be?” Volturno raised an eyebrow at him. They held each other’s gazes for several long moments. Finally Pascal frowned and glanced at the locked entry door. Gustavo was watching them with wide, strained eyes. Pascal’s face was a bland unreadable mask as he looked back at Volturno. Volturno smiled, seeing Pascal’s hesitation. He got up, walked around to a door framed by two tapestries and opened it. “You can join us now!” An older man, in a black tuxedo and white shirt as they all were dressed, with a red rose tucked into his lapel stepped into the great hall. They exchanged curt bows, then the man, with a shade of a smirk strolled to the table to stand across from Pascal. “Good evening Inspector Pascal!” Pascal’s face darkened slightly and the muscles in his jaw tightened as the man held his gaze. Finally, Pascal acknowledged him coldly, “Assistant Commissioner Roget.” Gustavo looked across at Roget with alarm, then up at Pascal. “I don’t understand!” Pascal grimly informed him, “Assistant Commissioner of… Police.” Gustavo’s face went ashen. Roget nodded. “The level of higher authorization required to approve the funds required for Inspector Pascal to demonstrate an ability to meet the financial bar for membership here.” He walked to the entry door and opened it. A moment later, the four bodyguards stepped inside. “They are all my hand-picked men, if you had expected you could call for backup.” They went back outside. He locked the door. Volturno folded his hands and rocked on his heels. “My dear, pathetic Gustavo, did you really think I couldn’t thoroughly vet a new potential member? I like the unintended consequences - the police department will be short one inspector and one million dollars which will be well-utilized supporting our mission. That was quite the gamble you sold to the police department, Pascal – but the house dealt you a losing hand.” They all turned to look at Pascal watching stonily as Roget accepted a glass of wine from Volturno. Volturno held his glass towards Pascal, then clinked his glass to Roget’s. They drank together, then Volturno took Roget’s glass and guided him to sit in the empty chair at his right hand. The other members relaxed slightly, whispering amongst each other as Pascal stood by Gustavo, the two shunned and isolated, while at the head of the table, back-dropped by the imposing rock hearth and the huge painted vista of battling armies, Volturno stood by Roget. Volturno spoke up. “On the other hand, Inspector Pascal, while vetting you what a surprise I had when I discovered that you are one of us - a direct descendent of the order of the ancient chevaliers.” There was a collective gasp, then murmurings around the table. Roget turned in his chair to look at Volturno then at Pascal with surprise. “Your ancestor escaped the slaughter. Today you face destruction, yet ironically, you actually have the blood right to be offered another option.” Pascal colored, then he spoke hoarsely. “Join you?” “Yes… and receive all the honors and benefits that go with that.” Volturno swept his hand out expansively, “And I assure you there are many. We can use someone of your caliber; why not put your talents and skills to a greater purpose? It’s your right. You are the youngest here, a number of us will not see another decade through; our time will soon be fulfilled. But you, you could lead the generation to carry this forward.” Pascal glanced at Roget. The man’s smile had faded and his face was slightly flushed. Pascal shrugged. “Let’s close the deal for that offer.” He looked over at Volturno, “On one condition - Gustavo’s life.” Volturno shook his head. “He can never be trusted again.” Gustavo sat frozen. Pascal rested his hand on Gustavo’s shoulder, “Really? I trusted him with the Gise d’or.” Volturno was blank for a very long moment then he shook himself slightly. “What are you talking about?” Pascal spoke louder. “I should clarify; I trusted him with part of the Gise d’or!” There was a collective gasp from the assembly as it finally sank in, “The Gise d’or!?!” Jean-François stood up angrily. “No one has the Gise d’or!” Pascal turned to him. “One never goes into a situation this hazardous without an emergency plan. Because Gustavo had to open the door for me, his life was forfeit, so his life insurance policy had to be something truly special, downright spectacular and irreplaceably priceless. Oddly enough, I possessed just the thing!” Volturno banged his water goblet on the table to quiet the rising cacophony of voices. He jabbed his finger at Pascal. “Explain yourself!” Pascal paced slowly behind Gustavo. “My father died when I was young, so my grandfather raised me. Before he died, he gave me a box.” Pascal turned to them. “His will stipulated it was not to be opened until I turned twenty-five. When the time came, I found that it contained parchment letters and a small, very old, three-panel illuminated wooden icon. I was very surprised. You know the legends – one is that the fort of Gisor holds the lost wealth of the chevaliers, but no trace of it has ever been found on the premises. The other legend asserts the wealth had been ported out secretly in great wagons just before the king moved to seize it. But the letters told the story that my ancestor had escaped because he had been tasked with establishing twelve caches throughout the country. In contrast to the popular legends, the letters described this was done not by actually moving the gold any distance, but by what is often called a back-to-back currency swap through confidential contacts. The gold was paid out triple for normal expenses and services rendered around the redoubt and monasteries for three years prior. For each over-payment, a reimbursement of that portion of the payment in gold was paid back at the outlying villages and towns across France and Europe. In this way, the entire treasury of the citadel of Gisor was steadily and discreetly dispersed hundreds of kilometers away not by wagons, but by credits and debits. It was as if it had melted away. Of that, most was spent or invested over time, but one-tenth of the reimbursements was collected and cached in secure places.” It was so quiet one could have heard a pin drop. Everyone was leaning forward with all eyes focused intently on him. “For centuries people have talked of the treasure of the Gisor – is it still hidden in the citadel or simply a word game on the ancient French ‘place of gold’ Gise d’or… thus, it could be anywhere.” Pascal announced. “My ancestor’s secret is that the true Gise d’or is a small, painted wooden icon that shows the exact locations of two of the twelve caches that hold the one-tenth that was set aside. Each cache contains the locations of two other caches.” There was a collective gasp. Jean-François slowly sank down to his chair to stare at Pascal. Volturno exclaimed. “You’re lying!” Pascal shrugged. “Why don’t you ask Gustavo what I gave him to keep secure before we came here?” All eyes turned to Gustavo. He spoke up, “I-I-It’s a single, detached gold-leafed painted wooden panel from an antiquities icon. B-But he didn’t tell me what it was for!” Pascal added. “I would also require my own life insurance policy - I have one of the panels in a secure place. The third panel I gave to a third party who shall remain anonymous. Together, they show the locations; apart they are useless. As long as we two remain alive, you have a hope to recover the lost treasure of the chevaliers. You kill Gustavo, panel one is gone. You kill me, panel two is gone and you’ve lost the connection to panel three. No copy exists of them. I am not foolish enough to commit that sort of thing to memory. Drugs are just too effective today.” Volturno stared at Pascal. Volturno shook his head. “No! Impossible!” Gunter turned to him. “Are you sure Volturno! He knows things that no one outside would know! There was one tradition that there are secret caches, with a key that unlocks them all! Many have searched for that key, but what if they’ve been looking for the wrong thing – that the icon is the key and he has it? What good is a simple key if you don’t know where the doors are that it can unlock? It makes sense!” Roget jumped to his feet, “Volturno! Don’t be a fool! He cannot be allowed to walk out of here with what he knows about me… about us, now!” Pascal demanded. “Is that why Hercule had to die?” Volturno dragged his stunned gaze off Pascal to blink at Roget, then he flushed. “This needs to be investigated!” Roget drew a pistol from under his tuxedo jacket and aimed it across the table at Pascal on the other side. “I can’t allow that!” Jean-François quickly stood up. “It could be the discovery of the millennia! You can’t just throw it away!” Roget snarled. “Stay out of this!” Volturno shouted. “Sit down Roget! It will not be handled in this manner!” “You’re idiots! He’s made it all up! If he truly had that information in his possession, why is he wasting his life on a police salary when he could have been living like a king?” Pascal retorted, “Because it’s dangerous! The moment even one piece of that gold hits the collector’s market for sale; it’ll be an international sensation! Everyone will know what it is!” Roget shouted back. “Why didn’t your grandfather or his grandfather help himself to the wealth?” Pascal shook his head. “It’s all in classical Latin and Greek! The family was farmers and tradesmen for generations! No one had the education to be able to read any of it and if they were to get someone to translate it for them; they would have lost control of the secret, so they just put it away! My grandfather insisted I study both! Because of him, I am the first inheritor in the family in 700 years who can actually read those letters!” Gunter exclaimed. “It could be true! We have to verify!” Roget turned red, straightened his arm and his finger tightened on the trigger. Jean-Francois threw himself at Roget, grabbing for the gun as it fired. “You can’t!” The bullet tore through his heart, dropping him to die on Roget’s feet. Chairs upended and crashed as the other members scattered away from the dining table. Roget furiously shoved Jean-Francois’s body away and raised his gun again aimed at Pascal. Volturno shouted. “No!” Roget glimpsed the pistol in Volturno’s hand and jerked his gun towards him. The twin shots boomed deafeningly in the hall. Roget staggered as Volturno fell to the floor. Pascal heaved up a chair, threw it at Roget and knocked him sprawling. Crystal and china crashed in all directions as Pascal dove forward and vaulted over the dining table. He grabbed the chair again and smashed it against Roget. Pascal snatched up Roget’s gun and pointed it at the assembly, “Everyone down, now!” He shouted at Gustavo. “Open that door!” Gustavo ran to the entry, then he hesitated. “But he said they’re his hand-picked men!” Pascal pointed the gun at Gunter, then at two others who were rising. They quickly sat down. Pascal yelled. “I have a few hand-picked men myself! Open it!” Gustavo reached to turn the key, but he jumped back cringing as the thick wood by the handle suddenly cracked. The door smacked open. One tuxedoed bodyguard charged in with a drawn pistol. “Sir!” Pascal called back, “Sergeant Braque! Arrest them all!” Braque motioned to a dozen uniformed officers with a battering ram and drawn weapons crowding in behind him. They quickly spread around the room, pushing the members to lie on the floor with their hands on their heads. Braque noticed him breathing hard from exertion. “Sir! Are you all right?” Pascal nodded. Braque scowled with disgust at Roger, unconscious at Pascal’s feet. “You got him, sir!” “We did.” We’ll handle everything for you, sir!” Pascal stood back warily keeping the gun in his hand as Sgt. Braque supervised the police officers handcuffing the members to herd them out as more police came in. After Roget had been taken out, leaving Volturno’s and Jean-François’s bodies to be removed, Pascal finally looked about, found a chair, sat down, propped his left elbow on the dining table and covered his face with his hand. “I haven’t seen anything like that in my entire life.” Startled, Pascal jumped up and spun around. A shrunken elderly man in a tuxedo was hunched in a wheelchair still parked by the head of the table. Pascal lowered the pistol, “Sir?” The old man raised a thin, gnarled hand. “That was quite a story. How much is true?” Pascal pulled his chair around so he could sit, watch the man and still be able to monitor the activity in the hall. “True enough,” Pascal finally replied. “My grandfather did make me study Latin and Greek.” “Verily, a wise man thinks ahead.” He folded his hands. “The inheritance was ideals - a calling to seek truth and justice, not gold. ‘What profits a man to gain the world only to lose his soul?’” Pascal nodded slowly, soberly. He grimaced. “I wonder who else those two have killed over the years.” The man gravely pressed his hand to his heart, “Thank you. I have been waiting all my life to see it restored from scoundrels to the kind of man for which it was intended.” Pascal looked up at the whites, blues, reds and greens of the array of silk standards and banners overhead. He sighed and lowered his gaze to see the old man still intently watching him. Weary, Pascal shook his head. “I don’t know about that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “They’ve kept me like their mascot, their last link to a vanishing generation, hoping for my blessing. But usually after they wheel me out with all honors and their tiresome theatrical deference, they forget they’ve parked me in the corner, where I can’t do anything… except watch and listen.” Pascal was still for a moment, then he straightened and considered the man. The old man smiled. “I would very much like to tell you everything I know.” by T.K. Naliaka ©2016 - 2023 All rights reserved
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorT.K. Naliaka Archives
January 2019
Categories |
When it looks like an awesome daydream, but it's real! for all ages
TIPTOPduTOP ©2017-2023 all rights reserved
TIPTOPduTOP ©2017-2023 all rights reserved
Site powered by Weebly. Managed by Dotster