CHAPTER NINE

Marie entered Mel's room and shut the door. "He has arrived. Stay here in your room. Let him come to you. You remember how we rehearsed this?" Mel nodded from her place at the table. "I must hide myself." She disappeared into the bathroom and swung the door shut, leaving it open just a crack. Mel kept her seat at the table, staring at an open book but not seeing the pages. Her heart pounded, and her hands shook slightly. Her mind raced as she kept her ears open for the telltale echoes of approaching footsteps. Get control of yourself, Melinda. You can do this. She heard a knock at her door and her heart leapt into her throat. That's your cue, darlin'. Let's see if you can win an Oscar.

She rose and opened the door a crack. Venete stood at the door, suit-coat and vest gone, white shirt open at the collar. He smiled a most disarming smile. "Mademoiselle Pappas. I have been wishing to speak with you. May I enter?"

Mel was cautious. "Do you promise to conduct yourself properly this time?"

He bowed slightly. "I assure you, that last unfortunate incident was not within my normal character. Please?"

She opened the door and admitted him, walking back to her place at the table and sitting. He stood near the table as he spoke next. "I have come to offer my concerns for you and Doctor Covington. This whole affair is extremely unfortunate. You are doing all right?"

"As well as can be expected, ah suppose."

"You are, no doubt, extremely worried about her?"

"That's putting it mildly, Monsieur. Have you seen her cell at the jail?"

"Ah. Most humble, I am quite sure. My apologies for that. French justice can be harsh."

"This has nothing to do with justice, does it? You know that she didn't steal those documents."

"Whether she actually stole them or not is of no consequence now, is it? The circumstantial evidence against her is, I think, enough to convict her. You know, she is looking forward to several years in a French prison. Those are conditions which I would not wish to endure. I understand that it is even more difficult for women."

Mel paled. "Why are you doing this, Monsieur? If you don't think that she took them, why persist in this? Speak out and have the charges dismissed!"

Venete stroked his chin as he spoke. "Ah, it is not that simple. The process of trial and conviction is begun. It is out of my hands now. Unless, of course........"

Mel stared at him. "Unless.......what?"

"I might have some influence with the judge in this matter. I have known him for some years. It would seem that he is not kindly disposed toward foreigners in our country and probably would be rather severe with Doctor Covington, but it is possible that I could, ah, sway him a bit."

"Oh, Monsieur Venete. Would you do that? Jan and ah would be ever so grateful!"

"Oh? It is not really Doctor Covington's gratitude that I am concerned with. It is yours."

"What do you mean?"

"For the proper, ah, ........inducement, I could intervene. Possibly even have the charges dismissed."

"Inducement? Ah'm afraid ah don't quite understand."

He laughed softly. "Come, come, Mademoiselle. Don't play innocent with me. We are both people of the world. Let us speak honestly."

Mel's expression hardened a bit. "All right. Why don't you explain to me exactly what inducement you seek?"

"If you insist. Mademoiselle, you are quite beautiful. I have desired you from the first time I met you. What man would not crave such a woman as yourself? I only seek your, ah, companionship. Is that clear enough?"

Mel's mouth gaped open, and she stared at him incredulously. "You expect me to sleep with you?"

He smirked. "I expect you to lay with me. Whether you sleep or not afterward is up to you."

She stood. "Monsieur Venete, you are outrageous! Do you have no honor?"

"To the contrary, I have found that it is women who have no honor. They do not hesitate to employ their bodies and charms to get what they desire. If the price is right, they will sell their favors to the highest bidder." He walked forward now, very close to Mel. She stood her ground and glowered at the man. "What is your price, Mademoiselle? What are you willing to sell your favors for? The freedom of your, ah......friend? I can make that happen for you. Think carefully before you say 'no', Mademoiselle. The alternative is your little companion spending several years away, and in conditions most deplorable. Or, you can offer yourself to me for the night, and I will see that she does not get convicted. It is up to you. No one need know about this but ourselves. I would not speak of it, and I'm quite certain that you would not, either."

Mel stood silently for several moments, then said, "Monsieur Venete, ah think that you'd better leave me now. It would seem that ah have quite a bit to think over."

He bowed slightly. "As you wish. Just remember, it is in your hands. The trial is tomorrow. If you come to my rooms tonight, your little, ah......friend will go free. If not, then I cannot be held responsible for the outcome. Her conviction will be your responsibility, I am afraid."

He opened the door, pausing as he exited. "Tonight, or she goes to prison." He then left, closing the door behind him. The bathroom door squeaked open, and Marie walked out into the room.

"Excellent! I have gotten every word. You have done well, Melinda." Mel said nothing, just collapsed into the chair behind her, covering her face. Marie bent over her, hugging her close and attempting to comfort her. "Now, now. Look, go and visit your love at the jail. The cook has prepared a basket for you to take to her. I will drive you, if you wish, and wait for you. I will not leave your side until this situation has resolved itself." Mel looked up, then nodded animatedly as she rose to prepare herself for the visit. Marie walked into the bathroom, emerging a moment later with a palm-sized reel of recording tape which she tucked into an inner compartment of her small purse. "This does not leave me, either."

Mel smiled. Jan, darlin', take heart. It's all working out, and ah'm coming to visit you.



CHAPTER TEN

Jan had alternately paced and sat, groaning inwardly at the confinement and her subsequent forced inaction. She had no window in the cramped cell and her wristwatch had been confiscated, so the grasp of time eluded her. She found the entire situation maddening. In addition, she felt unwashed and uncomfortable, in spite of the fact that the pleasant young guard had brought her a towel and soap, and she had attempted to bathe from the worn sink in her cell. I swear to God, if I get out of this, I'm getting a bigger office at work, or at least one with a window. Work? Ha. That's a laugh. When the trustees of the university hear of this little stroke of bad luck, they'll can me faster than anything. I can hear those pompous jerks now. 'Doctor Covington, we cannot have this kind of negative publicity at our university. We regret......' Yeah. Why is it that whenever someone's about to screw you over, they always say, 'We regret.....'? She snorted. And Mel? She's such a sweetheart. She'll just say, 'No problem, darlin', we'll just find you another job.' She won't mention a thing about how she loves that little cottage, or her new flower garden which we'd have to leave behind. Yeah. Like it's so easy, finding another job. I had a hard enough time getting this one. Another teaching appointment? Right. Maybe at some little jerkwater college, if at all, making peanuts for money, teaching freshman courses, no funding for digs. The famous Doctor Janice Covington, driving a taxi for a living, or slinging hash or some such thing to make ends meet. Damn sure won't let Mel support me with her family money. Janice Covington may be many things, but she's not a freeloader. Besides, I'd make a lousy hausfrau. Janice actually snickered a bit at the mental picture of herself in an apron, dusting and cleaning, waiting for Mel to come home. Mel, though? I could see her doing that. I'd support her in a heartbeat. I'd do that. Damn right I'd do that. Hell, I'd work three jobs to do that.

The keys rattled in her cell door, and Jan turned around. The pleasant young guard was opening the door and admitting Mel, who carried a basket. Jan's expression beamed at the sight of her friend, and Mel just swept her arms out and gave Jan a bear hug that almost squeezed the breath right out of her. She looked up at the tall southerner to say something, and her words were stifled when lips pressed themselves over her own. When they parted, Jan just grinned a most disarming smile.

"Gosh, Mel, glad to see you too."

"Look, Jan, Mack told me that the food was awful here. Ah brought you something to eat."

Jan motioned to the cot, and Mel sat on it's foot. Jan took her favorite place at the head, pulling her legs up and underneath her. Mel picked up the checkered cloth from the top of the basket and snapped it out over the bunk. She lay out two plates, offering cheese and bread and bringing forth a bottle of wine. "The cook in the kitchen at the chateau made this for you. And this wine is from Monsieur Venete's private stock, although he doesn't know it." She popped the cork on the bottle and brought out two cups as Jan began eating.

Jan laughed. "What did you do, Mel? Swipe his wine?"

Mel offered a very dignified expression as she poured it out. "Ah most certainly did not." Her expression dissolved into an evil grin, and she finished, "The servants did. Anyhow, it's the least he can do after the mess he's gotten you into."

"I'm getting out of this, Mel. Oh, yeah, by this time tomorrow, I'll be soaking in a hot bath and talking trash. I'm not getting convicted, that's for damn sure."

Mel paused and smiled. "Well, after yesterday's gloom and doom from you, ah'm glad to see that you've perked up. What changed your mind?"

Jan became suddenly serious. She leaned forward, peering at Mel. "You're a descendant of Xena. Tell me, Mel, do you ever feel a......connection with her?"

Mel thought at that. Finally, she answered. "Yes. Ah do. From time to time, the feeling has been very strong. Especially in times of peril."

"Right. Well, Mel, we both know that I'm a descendant of Gabrielle. I feel that same connection. I feel it now."

Mel studied Jan. She raised an eyebrow. "Jan, have you seen Gabrielle? You know, like last year in Greece?"

"No, but I can feel her somehow at work here. I'm gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay."

Mel offered a cup up in front of her, and passed one to Jan. She proposed a toast. "To them, Jan." They clinked their cups together and drank, relishing every drop of the purloined wine. They then sat for a moment, feeling very warm and cozy. Jan shot a glance over toward the pleasant young guard who watched them. She wiped her cup clean with a corner of the cloth, then offered it out for a refill. Mel refilled the cups, and Jan rose from her roost at the end of the cot and waved at Mel, padding over toward the cell door in her sock feet.

"Hey, Mel, come over here and bring that bottle, will ya?" Mel rose and did as Jan suggested, slightly puzzled. Jan waved to the guard. She stood and approached the bars. Jan held out the cup for the guard, and motioned to her. She quickly looked about her, then smiled and took the cup. Mel joined them at the bars, and Janice lifted the bottle from Mel's hand. They reached through the bars and clinked the two cups and the bottle together, then drank the toast. The guard chattered something in pleasant French, and finished with a "Merci!"

"You betcha." The guard handed the cup back and returned to her post, smiling devilishly. Jan and Mel returned to their seats on the cot, Mel raising an eyebrow.

"Mah goodness, Jan, you are certainly charitable today."

Jan waved a hand, as she picked up a piece of cheese with the other. "She's a sweetheart. Brought me soap and a towel, and refills my coffee."

"Well, bless her. Are they all so nice?"

Jan shook her head. "Naw. They've got one here who I call 'the bride of King Kong'. A real bitch. Tell you what, if I ever meet her on the street, she and I are gonna tangle."

Mel chastised Janice gently. "Now, Jan. Don't be that way. Last time you punched someone, you broke your hand. Remember?"

"Bad punch. Hard head."

Mel smiled. "Yours, darlin', or his?"

Jan grinned. "Both, I guess." Jan shook her head. "A real gem, aren't I? How come you put up with me, Mel?"

"Well, as a southern lady, ah must admit that you are a little rough around the edges, even for a Yankee. But ah swear, Janice Covington, you are also just the cutest thing on two legs."

"Well, I've got to have at least one redeeming quality, I guess."

"Don't forget that you are also now a famous scholar."

Jan's face fell. "Yeah. Fat lot of good that'll do me when those old farts at the university find out about me being arrested. They don't like bad publicity. They won't just refuse to fund my plans to excavate Sappho's home. They'll can me, Mel. I know they will."

Mel tried to be reassuring. "No problem, darlin', we'll just find you another job."

Jan grinned in spite of herself. "Somehow, I knew that you'd say that."

Mel studied Jan very closely for a long time, saying nothing. Jan just raised an eyebrow but allowed her silence, perceiving myriad wheels and gears turning in that beautiful, dark head. Finally, Mel gave voice to her thoughts.

"Oh, ah think they won't dare get rid of you, Jan."

"Sure they will. You know how they are, Mel. Some of 'em don't like me as it is."

"Ah certainly do. Listen, ah have a thought. Just hear me out, Jan. Now, what do they love most? What is the one way to assure that they not only won't fire you, but will actually kiss that cute little fanny of yours?"

Jan was slightly sarcastic. "Give 'em money?"

"Bingo. Listen, you remember that railroad stock that ah inherited from mah daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Ah've been wondering what to do with it. It has gained in value since daddy died. Why don't we kill two birds with one stone?"

Jan leaned forward. "Mel?"

"Listen. Ah have decided to put it to a very worthy cause. We'll establish a trust. Use it to fund archaeological research done by only that university. You leave, and the trust leaves with us. Ah get the tax break, and you get your dig. The university gets money, and everybody's happy."

"Mel, I can't let you do that. Jeez, you know how I feel about you squandering your family inheritance on me. Naw, it won't do at all. I won't let you buy my job from them."

"Jan, your reputation as a scholar precedes you wherever we go anymore. You are good. It won't be wasted at all. Besides, we'll use mostly the interest and not too much of the principal."

"But that's your money, Mel, not mine. I can't let you do this."

Mel lowered her eyebrows at Janice. "You most certainly can, Jan. Ah want this."

"Look, Mel, I know what you're trying to do. I appreciate it more than I can say. But it just isn't right."

"Of course it's right. It's mah money, and ah can do whatever ah want with it. Isn't that so?"

Jan shrugged. "Well,......"

"Besides, don't ah go along with you on all your digs? They're just so exciting to me, Jan."

"And I couldn't do it without you, Mel. But....."

Mel held up a finger to silence her mate's protests. "But nothing. So there."

Jan just sat for a moment, mouth slightly open, speechless. Then she leaned back against the wall and began laughing. "I know when I'm whipped." She took a sip of her wine.

Mel continued, "Do you want to really see them blanch, darlin'?"

Jan looked up, the cup at her mouth.

"We'll call it 'The Harry 'Grave Robber' Covington Memorial Trust'."

Jan choked on her wine, almost spitting it out. Mel rose and walked over to Jan, patting her on the back until she settled down. Jan put the cup down and wiped at her eyes, still coughing slightly. When she regained her composure, she gave Mel a wide grin. "Damn, Mel, you can really be evil when you want to be." Mel just returned to her seat at the foot of the cot, a picture of dignity and repose. Janice studied Mel for a moment, then added, "Call it the Pappas/Covington Trust, and you've got a deal."

Mel smiled. "Mah daddy would have liked that."

Jan nodded. "Mine, too."

"So be it." Mel stood and collected the remnants of their meal, packing everything away into the basket. She stood, preparing to leave. Jan stood with her, and they once again hugged tightly, whispered words of endearment and kissed, a long kiss. When they parted, Jan walked her to the cell's door. The guard unlocked it, and Mel exited. As the door was locked again, Mel paused to gaze at Janice, who was standing forlornly in the center of the small, grubby cell. She said, "Jan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what ah'm going to do first thing, when you get out of here?"

Jan raised an eyebrow. "Ummm........"

"No, darlin'. That's the second thing. The first thing ah'm going to do is get you a bath. Phew!" With that, she flashed a smile and disappeared down the hall. Jan just stood in the center of the cell for a moment, then shoved her hands into her pockets, pulling out her cigarette pack and lighting one.

After she did, she shrugged her shoulders at the guard and muttered, "So I stink. I'm still cute."



CHAPTER ELEVEN

Raymond Derea entered Jan's cell, hat and briefcase in hand, and offered a pleasant handshake to a waiting Janice. After they seated themselves on the hard bunk, Jan said, "So, what's up? Am I going up the river tomorrow?"

"Eh?"

"You know, prison. Up the river."

He puzzled for a moment, then laughed brightly. "Oh. That's a good one. You Americans, such colorful use of the English language."

"Are you kidding? We haven't spoken English in years."

"So my English acquaintances tell me. Ah, no. Not yet. We go to trial tomorrow morning, as you know. We have had some success, and some, ah, failure."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"Well, first, I am of the belief that Monsieur Venete had the documents in question. Had, I say. He does not now. Someone stole them from him, it would seem."

"Great. So where are they now?"

"No one knows. I am sorry for that."

"Me, too. They'll probably turn up on the black market somewhere."

"Quite so. You tell me that they are worth a lot of money?"

"Name your price."

"Oh? And now the second bit of news. Monsieur Venete did actually approach your friend Mademoiselle Pappas this afternoon. He offered her the tawdry deal that you had anticipated. We have recorded the whole thing, and I will offer it into evidence tomorrow in court."

Jan's eyes narrowed. "When did this happen?"

"This afternoon."

Jan slammed a fist down on her knee. "That sonofabitch. I knew that's what he wanted." She looked up at Derea. "She was here this afternoon. She never mentioned a thing about it."

"Of course not. She didn't want to worry you, I am sure. She is quite a lady."

Jan smiled. "Yeah. Sure is." After a moment, she looked at Derea. "Is Venete at the chateau tonight?"

"Yes. I believe he will remain the night."

Jan sat stiffly up. "Mel's in danger. We can't have her alone there with him in the house."

Derea hastened to reassure Jan. "She's not alone. Besides your friends Mack and Sallie, who have kept her constant company, we have assigned a young lady from the embassy to stay by her side."

"A clerk? A clerk is protecting Mel?"

Derea smiled mysteriously. "Oh, no, Doctor Covington. She is no clerk. She is a most capable member of their ah,......" He leaned forward and whispered, "Intelligence section."

Janice raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I cannot speak too much of her background, other than to say that she is quite dangerous when provoked, and is constantly armed. She will assure your friend's safety."

Jan sighed. "Sure hope so. I can't." Jan stewed over her own helplessness for a moment, then said, "Anything else?"

"Yes. The judge. As you know, he can be our friend or our enemy in this. I believe he will cooperate most favorably with you tomorrow."

"What makes you think that?"

"Ah, let me just say that he was paid a visit by two of our colleagues today. They reminded him of his need to conduct the trial with strict impartiality tomorrow."

"Think he'll listen?"

Derea smiled. "Oh, yes. They reminded him, ah......quite enthusiastically, if you get my meaning." Jan glanced over at Derea's face. There was the trace of a mischievous smile on his lips. "My friends can be quite persuasive."

"Jesus. I think I'm getting the picture here. Do I want to know any more?"

"Just one more thing. It seems that you are possessed of some fame as an archaeologist. The newspapers were alerted. The courtroom will be packed with reporters tomorrow, I suspect."

"Is that good for us?"

"I believe so. In private, many things can happen. In the public eye, things must be above reproach. Do you have any other questions for me?"

"Guess not. Nothing to do now but wait for the circus tomorrow."

"As you say. Try to sleep, Doctor Covington, and try not to worry too much. I have every belief that we shall prevail." He stood, gathering his hat and briefcase. Jan walked him to the cell door, then extended her hand. He shook it warmly, then asked, "Do you need anything?"

"Yeah. A bath."

"The police tell me that they have no facilities for that here. So sorry. I will suggest to Mademoiselle Pappas that she come by early and help you make yourself presentable, however."

"Thanks. For everything, Monsieur. You're a good man."

His eyes twinkled a little at the joke he rendered in reply. "So I keep telling my girlfriend, Doctor Covington. Adieu!" With that, he left the cell and the dour, matronly guard slammed the door in Jan's face.



At the chateau, Marie and Mel kept to her room. The cook delivered a small meal and some wine, and they ate it quickly. Mack and Sallie visited, explaining that they were on their way down to the basements to do some research this evening, and asked if there was anything that they could do to be of help. At that, Marie spoke up.

"Yes, actually. I believe that your balcony door is immediately next to ours, is it not?"

Sallie answered. "Yes. Just around the corner."

"Good. When you retire tonight, keep it unlocked. We will do the same with ours. If there is any, ah, trouble tonight, I wish you, Melinda, to run to their room and stay with them until I am able to take care of it." She rose from her seat at the table and walked over to the bed side table. Opening the drawer, she hefted Janice's pistol and offered it to Mack. "I believe you were in the war, were you not?" He nodded. "Good. You can use this?" Mack nodded again, and took the proffered weapon, breaking it open and examining it. "It is loaded. Keep it in your room." Mack again nodded, thrusting it into the waistband of his trousers. "Now, all is understood?"

Mack and Sallie responded affirmatively, and left to descend to the basements. Mel studied Marie for a moment, then softly asked, "Do you think that he will come here tonight?"

Marie shrugged, then looked at Mel. She smiled, the friendliness of her smile belying the cagey, tough expression around her eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see."

"Watch him, Marie. He's a dangerous man, ah suspect."

Her smile broadened into a toothy grin. "I'm a dangerous woman, Melinda."



In the basements, Sallie and Mack bent over a manuscript, in rapt discussion over some point of translation of one of the Latin manuscripts. Sallie asked Mack a question, and Mack just leaned back in his chair, smiling. She eyed him for a moment, then said, "What?"

"You asked me that same question ten minutes ago."

She dropped her pencil and leaned her head forward, cradling it in both hands. "Aw, Mack. I can't think straight. Got a headache, too."

"Want some aspirin?"

"Got some?"

"Upstairs. I'll get it for you, if you want." He rose from his chair. "On second thought, why don't you just knock off for tonight?"

She looked at her watch. "Yeah, soon. I just want to get this damn paragraph right. Won't take long."

He nodded and walked toward the steps. "Okay. I'll get the aspirin. Be right back." He left the basements, treading the stairs up to the chateau's main floor. Sallie rubbed her eyes and then continued scribbling on her legal pad, repeatedly scratching out phrases and shaking her head. Finally, she threw down her pencil in disgust and rose from the table. Mack's right. Go to bed. Can't concentrate, anyway. Too worried about Jan. God, I hope that it all works out tomorrow. Can't believe that she's in the slammer. I feel like it's my fault. After all, it's my research that brought her out here. She ascended the steps, clicking out lights behind her. Theft. What a load of crap!

She left the basement steps and walked across the first floor entranceway to the stairs. As she reached the first step, a voice called her name. "Mademoiselle Rosen?"

She looked up. Venete stood nearby, a wine glass in his hand. "Oh, hey, Monsieur Venete. Just going up to bed. Got a headache."

He approached her. "Oh. I am sorry. You know, a glass of wine has been known to help that. Would you like one?"

"No, thanks anyway. Sleep usually does it for me. Probably wouldn't hurt if I wore my glasses, too."

"Ah, glasses, but you don't wear them?"

"Not like I should. A woman's vanity, I guess." She smiled at the attempted joke, and he responded with a smile of his own, one that didn't reach his eyes. They remained somehow very aloof, very cold.

"But you have something to be vain about. You are a very pretty woman."

"Thanks, I guess. Don't feel that way tonight, though."

"But you look that way. Tell me, mademoiselle, you are close friends with Doctor Covington?"

"I think the world of her. She was one of my professors in college, and I worked a dig with her last summer."

"You are no doubt worried about her?"

"Yeah. Very. That's probably where my headache is from. Do you think she will be set free?"

"Hard to say. It is up to the court now."

"I wish there were more I could do for her. I feel really helpless in all this."

He eyed her closely. "You may be able to do something, after all. Why don't you visit with me, and I will explain what you can do to assist her?"

Sallie felt a strange knot start in the pit of her stomach. She noted Venete's cold eyes, and suddenly felt a pang of fear. "Me? What can I do?"

He took a step closer. "Perhaps more than you think, mademoiselle."

Sallie backed up a step. "Yeah, I'll bet. Goodnight, monsieur." With that, she hurried up the steps, occasionally casting an eye behind her. When she reached the door of her room, she entered, shut the door, and leaned against it. Mack's voice called to her from the bathroom.

"Sallie?" He walked out into the room, aspirin bottle in hand, then stopped and studied her very carefully. "What's wrong?" She just stared at him, her large brown eyes even larger than usual. Mack walked over to her, and halfway across the room she met him.

"Mack,........ he was putting the moves on me down there!"

"Who? Venete?" She nodded. "Did he touch you?" She shook her head.

"No, Mack, but he scared the crap out of me. Met me at the stairs. Told me that I could do something to help free Jan. When I asked him what, he just got close to me and said, 'Perhaps more than you think'."

Mack's face reflected a deep, fiery anger. "That asshole. Think I'll go and have a little chat with him right now."

Sallie stood in front of him. "No, Mack, no. Look, think about this."

Mack stared incredulously at Sallie. "What's there to think about? He as much as propositioned you!"

"Mack, let it go. He didn't come right out and say it, and he didn't touch me, so just let it go." They stood in the center of the room, eyes locked. "Get hold of yourself, Mack. You go in there and you'll probably punch him out or something. Then we'll have to be visiting you in jail, as well as Jan."

Mack growled, "At least Jan will have some company."

Sallie's large eyes flashed. "That's not funny. And what about my research? We're on thin enough ice around here as it is. I'm surprised he hasn't thrown us all out yet."

"Just because he knows that your research will help define a value for those documents down there. Why do you think he's being so nice to us? All your hard work will just help him get a fancier price. He wants to know what he's got down there, and you're telling him."

"You think so?"

Mack snorted derisively. "I know so. Why do you think that I'm so insistent on photographing everything? After we leave, he'll try to sell those documents. We'll never see 'em again."

Sallie turned away from Mack and walked over to the balcony door. She stood there for some moments, hand up to her mouth, just staring out into the darkness. Finally, she turned around and faced Mack. "Look, Mack, screw the research. I'll make do with what I've got. Let's get out of here as soon as we can."

"You're only halfway through that stuff down there."

"I don't care, Mack. That stuff isn't worth the price we're paying."

"Do you really feel that way?"

"Yes. This situation has become intolerable, all because of that jerk downstairs. Jan's in jail, Mel is in enough danger to have a bodyguard and we're arguing right now. It's not worth it. Tomorrow, after Jan gets free, we're outta here. We take Jan and Mel to Paris, and we'll all have a blast like we promised them. We'll stay in Paris. Then, it's off to our next stop when they go home. But we don't stay here another night. Agreed?"

"So far. But, what if Jan gets convicted? What then?"

"Then? We do whatever it takes to see to Mel's well-being and support Jan. Like I said, screw the research. Our friends come first." Mack said nothing, just smiled at her. She huffed and blew a lock of unruly hair from in front of her face, then eyed him quizzically. "Agreed?"

"You bet we're agreed." He walked over to Sallie and they embraced. "You're a work of art, Sallie. Guess that's why I'm so crazy about you."

She smiled up at him. "And you know when to listen to reason. Think I'll keep you for a while." He handed her the aspirin bottle. "That, and you take care of me. Thanks."

"There's a water glass in the bathroom. Let's go to bed. Long day tomorrow. You got the bathroom first."



Venete sat in his rooms, working his way through much of a bottle of wine. He glanced at his watch, then back at the bottle. She is not coming. I don't believe it of her. I thought certainly that she would do anything to save her little.......... friend. He raised the glass to his lips, his mind burning darkly with anger. She is so holy, is she? Thinks that she is better than me? How dare she. She is under my roof. Mine. He looked around the rooms. The dear countess certainly doesn't need the chateau anymore, considering the fact that she is undoubtedly dead. All this is now mine. The mademoiselle should be, as well. How dare she choose that scruffy little blonde over the likes of me! I will teach her what it means to defy Venete. I take what I want.

He rose a bit unsteadily from the table in his rooms and softly walked down the hallways until he stood in front of Mel's door. He listened for a while, and heard no sounds from the room. No light emerged from under the door. His hand rested on the door handle, and he wiggled it. It was locked. From his pocket, he withdrew a key and slipped it into the door. It clacked a bit as he attempted to turn it in the lock. Then, the key turned and the lock slipped back. He squeaked the door open, and softly entered. The lights were out, and the only illumination was from the soft moonlight coming through the balcony door's glass. He stood still for a moment, allowing his eyes to accustom themselves to the dim light, then glided across the floor to the bed. Under the covers, he could see a form asleep. Leaning slightly over the bed, he grasped the covers and pulled them back. "Now, mademoiselle, you will learn what it is to be with a man." The form did not stir, and he stared at it for a moment, blinking in the dim light, then growled under his breath and lifted a pillow from the bed. Pillows! Mademoiselle, you are more clever than I gave you credit for. Where are you hiding, I wonder? At that instant, his vision exploded in stars, and he found himself on his hands and knees on the floor. Dazed, he raised a hand to the back of his head and felt a lump beginning to rise. A foot connected with his stomach, and he felt the breath knocked from him. Then, his vision once again became whirls of stars as something pounded into the back of his head, and he remembered nothing else.

Marie leaned down over the prostrate form and felt for a pulse. Satisfied that he was alive, she opened the balcony door and waved a hand. Melinda appeared from the darkness of the balcony, accompanied by Mack and Sallie, dressed in their robes. Mack held Janice's pistol. Marie stood aside to allow them into the room, and gestured toward the hall door. "Mack, turn the light on, will you?" Mack walked around the dark form on the floor and clicked the light on. They stood for a moment, staring down at Venete. Sallie's voice broke the silence.

"Marie? Is he......"

She grinned and shook her head. "No. He will have a headache tomorrow, though." She noticed blood on the handle of her automatic pistol, and leaned down to wipe it on Venete's trousers. She then lifted the hem of her dress and replaced it in her thigh holster. "Help me get him back to his rooms. Hurry. He may regain consciousness soon."

Mack walked over to the limp form. He handed his pistol to Marie, and then bent down, lifting the limp Venete up and into a sitting position. He grasped the man under the arms, and Sallie and Mel each took hold of an ankle, lifting the unconscious man. Marie led them down the hall, holding a finger to her lips to indicate the need for silence. She led them into Venete's rooms and, noticing the nearly empty bottle of wine on the table, motioned to the floor by the table. "Put him down here." After they did so, she placed a foot under his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. She lifted the wine bottle from the table and placed it in his hand. Looking quickly at the layout of the room and the near proximity of the table, she reached behind his head and then withdrew a bloody hand. She leaned over toward the table and wiped it on the table's corner, leaving a red splotch on the sharp edge. "Let's get out of here now, before he awakens. Come, come." At her lead, they all left his rooms, closing the door behind them, and softly returned to Mel's room. Marie hastened to the bathroom, emerging a few moments later drying her hands on a towel. "Well done. He smelled of wine. He was probably drunk, a bit. When he awakens, he will think that he fell in his rooms. He will be quite confused."

Mel chuckled, in spite of the situation. "Done this before, have you, Marie?" In response, she just gave a knowing smile.

"A girl has to earn a living somehow, eh?" Mack and Melinda laughed at that, but Sallie was concerned. She questioned Marie.

"Will he be all right?"

Marie shrugged. "I suppose. If not, then the servants will discover his body in the morning. The police will be summoned, they will assume that he got drunk and fell, hitting his head, and the prosecutor loses his only witness against Doctor Covington. Either way, we are in a good position. Oh, one more thing." She opened the door to the hall, removing the key from the outside of the lock, then closed the door and locked it from the inside with the latch. "All is in order now. Thank you all for your help. Return to bed, and if the police come and question you about this, you know nothing. You heard nothing. It is a surprise to you, understand?" They all nodded. "Also, if they ask you about me, I was sent by the embassy to stay with Melinda as a courtesy. Ah, a translator, perhaps, if you like. I will assume that role in the morning, at the trial." Again, they nodded, and she returned Janice's pistol to Mack. "Keep it, just in case he awakens." Mack and Sallie slipped out the balcony door, closing it behind them. Marie patted Mel on the arm. "You are safe. I will still stay with you here, however. Now try to sleep, Melinda."

"What about you, Marie? Will you sleep?"

She shrugged. "I do not sleep much, it seems, since the war. Old habits are difficult to break."

"That's what Mack says. Ah don't think that ah will sleep much, either."

Marie looked at Mel. "In that case, do you play cards?"



CHAPTER TWELVE

Melinda had visited Jan early in the day at her cell. The pleasant young guard had just come on duty, and allowed Mel to help Jan pull herself together as much as possible under the austere circumstances which the cell afforded. Mel had fussed over Jan as she bathed from the sink, and had also brushed out Jan's hair and fixed her pony tail back with a large beret. After words of reassurance, she had given her a long hug and kiss and was ushered out of the cell, leaving Jan alone to await the guards who would escort her to the court for the trial. Dutifully, they had appeared and handcuffed Jan's hands in front of her, leading her out into the bright morning sun to the waiting police van. She was locked in the back, next to a bored gendarme, and the van lurched into motion.

At the courthouse, they led Jan into a back door and held her in a small hallway. When a clerk came out and said something to the gendarmes, they ushered her in through a door and walked her into the courtroom, opening a gate and motioning to a chair. She stood inside the prisoner's dock, and only then cast a glance about the courtroom. The sight slightly overwhelmed her.

The courtroom was about two-thirds filled with participants and spectators. Jan looked about, studying the faces, and noted the benches filled with men and women. Some had writing tablets open on their laps, and were conversing softly. She assumed those to be the reporters of which Derea had warned her earlier. As her gaze traveled across the room, she noted two long tables in front of the spectators' benches. Just behind one table, she recognized the familiar faces of Mack, Sallie, and Mel. They were dressed very nicely, and offered her smiles and furtive waves as she caught their eye. In response, she nodded and assumed an attitude of detached bravado, although her heart was pounding loudly and she felt a bit shaky. She placed her handcuffed hands on the railing of the prisoner's dock in front of her to steady herself a bit, and swallowed hard. She then studied the tables. At the one in front of her friends sat Monsieur Derea, his briefcase open in front of him. He nodded his head gently and smiled. Next to him, turned about and speaking to Mel, was a young woman with shoulder-length light brown hair. At the other table, a man sat alone, papers in front of him. She assumed him to be the prosecutor. Her eyes trailed over to the judge's bench. It was empty. The judge had not arrived, but the court reporter sat, machine at ready to record the proceedings. A couple of clerks milled about the courtroom.

One of the gendarmes motioned to Jan to sit, and she did so. They kept their places, one on either side of her, and wore weary expressions. Jan glanced from one to the other, then sighed deeply. Her handcuffs chafed a bit, and she wished that she could be rid of them.

The young woman seated next to Derea rose and walked across the courtroom toward the prisoner's dock. A gendarme approached her, and they had a few words. She flashed credentials of some sort, and the gendarme allowed the young woman to speak with Janice. She stood just on the other side of the dock. "Doctor Covington, my name is Marie. I am from the embassy, and will act as your translator during this. When the judge enters and the trial begins, they will allow me to sit with you so that I can offer translation."

"Are you the one who stayed with Mel?" She nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"It was no problem. She is a delightful person."

"She's all right?"

Marie smiled. "Oh, yes. Quite fine. Please, do not worry." She remained in her position next to one of the gendarmes, as the courtroom awaited the arrival of the judge and the start of the trial. Jan looked around the courtroom again, and noticed two men sitting in the back row near the door, away from the others. They had a strangely intimidating air about them, one not quite official but yet very assured. Jan leaned forward slightly. "Marie?"

She looked up. "Eh?"

"Who are those two palookas sitting in the back row?" She glanced, then laughed slightly.

"Ah, Sam and Andre. They are colleagues of mine. Embassy. Friends of yours, as well."

"They look, um........."

"Yes. They are here to remind the court of its need for impartiality." Jan made the association, and chuckled.

"I think I got it. Say, I don't see Monsieur Venete here."

Marie smiled, a mysterious grin. "I suspect that he had a bad night last night. He may be late, or he may not be here."

"No, here he is now. Holy cow, he looks rough." Marie glanced at the doors, and saw the lawyer enter. His expression was pained and haggard, and he wore a bandage around his head. Marie just chuckled.

"Yes, a bad night, I suppose."

A clerk said something in a rather loud voice, and the courtroom instantly silenced and everyone stood. Jan followed suit, and the judge entered from a side door, wearing his official robes. He took his seat at the bench, and everyone sat. Marie motioned to one of the gendarmes, and he opened the prisoner's dock to allow her in. She took her place next to Jan, and leaned close to whisper translations of the proceedings.

"The judge. We now start. They announce the case." In the rapid-fire French of the clerk, Jan could discern her name being mentioned. At that, many faces in the courtroom cast a glance her way. "Just lawyer talk now. Ah, now you must plead. Stand up." They both stood. "How do you plead to charge of felony theft? You must answer."

Jan said loudly and clearly, "Not guilty." Marie translated, and then pointed to the seat when the plea was recorded. They again sat, and Marie leaned close. "The prosecutor, he makes his statement. I will summarize it." Jan saw the prosecutor stand and begin speaking, referring to his notes occasionally as he did so. "Just summarizing his evidence. He states that you had motive, opportunity and desire to steal these ah, potentially priceless documents. He says that you would know where to sell them. He says that your character is somewhat cloudy, as well, and he will prove all these things today." He became silent and sat, and then Derea stood and spoke. "Stating his defense. He says that there is no evidence that you stole anything. He says that the state is offering only speculation." Jan nodded. In the midst of speaking, a clerk approached Derea and handed him a note. He paused and glanced at it, then began speaking quite animatedly, waving the note. "Ah. He says new evidence important to your defense. Requests a ten-minute delay to speak with someone in the hall outside." The judge responded. "The judge is opposed." Jan saw the two palookas in the back rise and stand against the wall, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the judge. She noted the judge's response as he saw the two men, then cleared his throat and spoke again, his hand gesturing. "He has changed his mind. He will allow it." A silence fell over the court as Derea strode toward the doors and exited. A low murmur arose in the room, the judge stirring nervously in his seat as he waited. In a few minutes, Derea returned to the courtroom and walked briskly up to the judge's bench. He had a few hushed words with the judge, who then motioned toward the prosecutor. He rose, and joined them at the bench. They whispered animatedly together, at times pointing fingers at each other. Jan guessed that the prosecutor was not at all happy with this new turn of events. Finally, the judge spoke loudly to the courtroom, bringing his gavel down to punctuate his last few words. He then rose and left by the side door, the two lawyers hurriedly retrieving their briefcases from their respective tables and following. As the door closed behind them, Marie explained, "They are taking conference together in his back rooms. About what, I do not know."

Jan squirmed on the hard wooden seat and cast a glance toward the back of the courtroom. The two palookas had disappeared. "Where did your friends go?" Marie looked, then smiled.

"They are probably, ah, observing the conference." Jan nodded. As they sat and waited, Jan noticed the clock on the wall. Five minutes went by, then ten, then fifteen minutes elapsed. She found the wait almost intolerable, wishing she could rise and pace to burn off some nervousness. Finally, a clerk emerged from the door and walked to the front of the spectator's benches. He called out two names. They did not need translation.

"Monsieur Venete? Mademoiselle Pappas?" He motioned with a hand, and Mel rose to meet the clerk. Venete rose as well, slightly wobbly, and made his way to the front of the courtroom. The two cast uneasy glances at each other, and Mel kept her distance from the man, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Jan. She felt a slow burn come over her, and willed it down. Mel and Venete followed the clerk through the door. Jan returned her attention to the clock. Another five minutes passed, then ten. Finally, Jan turned to Marie.

"What the hell is going on?"

Marie shrugged. "Trust Derea."

Another five minutes passed, and then a clerk came out and approached the prisoner's dock. He spoke to the gendarmes, and they nodded. One of them said something to Marie, and opened the gate of the dock. Marie took Jan by the arm. "Oh, come. They want you back there as well."

Jan rose and followed one gendarme, Marie staying by her side and the other gendarme taking his place behind her. They led her out of the courtroom and down a hall, finally ushering her through a door. She faced a large room lined with bookcases, in the center of which was a fairly large, round table. The judge sat at the table, looking very chagrined. Next to him sat the prosecutor, and by his side, Venete, who glowered visibly when Jan entered the room. As Jan's eyes traveled around the table, she caught sight of Mel, who was smiling, and Derea, whose eyes were twinkling brightly through his wire-rimmed eyeglasses. On the other side of the table, a woman sat, back to Jan, dressed in dark clothing, a leather binder on the table in front of her. The gendarmes held out two chairs for Jan and Marie, and they took their seats at the table. Only then did Jan cast a glance toward the woman at the table. When she did, she felt her heart skip a beat, then pound wildly in her chest. Her expression must have slightly betrayed her surprise, as the woman smiled slightly when her eyes met Jan's.

The judge was speaking now, and Marie leaned close to Jan to translate. "The judge is saying that new evidence has appeared which may change entirely the matter at hand. Prosecutor and defense have agreed to air it here instead of in court." Jan watched Derea as he, while speaking, withdrew a small tape recorder from his briefcase and set it on the table. "He is offering evidence that Venete has attempted to corrupt the process of justice. This is a serious accusation." Derea clicked the switch on the tape recorder, and the small reels turned. Tinny-sounding voices echoed through the room. Jan could hear Venete's voice, then Mel's, as their conversation from the day before replayed itself. Jan listened to the conversation as Marie, at Derea's suggestion, offered a running translation of the words in French.

As the scene replayed before the audience, Jan could feel a slow, deep anger grow. She narrowed her eyes toward Venete, but he did not meet her gaze. She then looked to Mel, who sat erect and proud at the table, hands folded, a picture of dignity. When the recorded conversation was finished, Derea clicked off the recorder and plopped a document down on the table in front of the judge. Marie said, "The written translation." Then, Derea spoke again. Marie whispered, "Now he offers evidence that the chateau does not belong to Venete at all. It still belongs to the Countess d'Agee. He has no blood connection to her and has usurped its ownership illegally. Therefore, the documents supposedly stolen by you do not belong to him and he has no right to offer charges against you."

Jan whispered, "She's dead."

"No. She sits at the table with us."

"What??" Jan again glanced over to the woman seated at the far end of the table. The same timeless beauty, the same luxurious golden hair, the same sad, wise eyes which visited her in the cell that night and the bedroom before that peered back at her. Her eyes caught Jan's and held them for a brief instant. In that instant, Jan thrilled. I know you now. I know who you really are. Yes. As if understanding the thought, the woman smiled ever so slightly and nodded almost imperceptibly. She then began to speak to the assembled group, in French. Marie whispered into Jan's ear, "She identifies herself. She is well-known here. The judge recognizes her, and does not question that she is indeed the Countess d'Agee. The prosecutor agrees."

The prosecutor now spoke quite energetically. Marie whispered, "He says that it does not matter whether the documents belong to Venete or the countess. They do not belong to you. This is felony theft. The government makes the accusation now, not Venete. The documents are still missing. You had motive and opportunity to steal them, and would recognize their value. He still wishes to press the trial."

Derea now spoke equally energetically, pointing around the table as he did so. Marie leaned close to Jan's ear. "He says that the documents are not missing. He says that they are in the possession of their rightful owner, the countess. Therefore, there has been no theft by you. If there has been theft, it is of the countess' property by Venete. He wishes to offer proof."

Venete argued, slamming his hand down on the table. Marie translated. "He says that he is her brother. He quotes the document offering that proof. He says that she has been declared dead. He is entitled to her lands by law, as there are no other relatives. He regrets that he does not have the document on him, but it is filed at the courthouse. He quotes the date and number."

At that, Jan saw Derea rise and produce several documents from his briefcase. He looked at the first, then at Venete and said something. Marie whispered, "He asks the full name of Venete."

Venete replied, "Emil Andre Venete."

Derea nodded, then spoke again. "He asks the date of his birth." Venete replied again. Derea then held up a document. "It is Venete's birth certificate. He was born in La Rochelle, on that date. His parents' names are mentioned." Derea now held up a second document. "He offers now the birth certificate of the countess. He notes that the parents' names are different." Derea plopped the two certificates down in front of the judge, then held up a third. "He now offers a document establishing a blood connection between Venete and the countess. He says that the tax stamps are missing. He notes that it is signed by this same judge. The judge did not yet occupy a position of authority when the document was dated. He says it is a forgery." As Derea threw the third document down in front of the judge, the official paled just slightly.

Derea paused for a second, then held up the last document. It was emblazoned with the eagle and swastika of the Nazi party. Marie whispered, "Now he offers proof that the judge was a member of the French Nazi party. He reminds the judge of the penalty for forgery of official documents, and the fact that such former party members are not well tolerated in France now."

The judge sat back in his chair when he saw the last document waved in front of his face, his expression slack with surprise. The judge recovered his composure, then began gesturing and speaking. "The judge says that none of this matters. That, as far as he is concerned, the stolen documents are still missing, and that evidence points to you. He wants to press the trial."

Derea replied very strongly, and Marie translated, "He urges the judge to press the trial in public and reminds him of the reporters in the courtroom. He dares him." After a moment of silence, Derea continued, and Marie kept up her running translation. "He says that there is no basis for theft charges, as the documents are not missing. They are in the possession of their rightful owner." At that, Derea pointed to the distant side of the table, toward the countess. She opened the leather binder, unfolding it and laying it out on the table. She moved a cloth aside, and the ancient parchments were evident to all. As she did so, she spoke quite clearly. Marie translated, "She says that she has possession of the documents. You never had them, except to examine them in the basements of the chateau. You are without blame in this."

The judge protested loudly, waving his hand and speaking. Marie whispered, "The judge does not believe that those are the documents. He wants to know how she came into possession of them." The countess responded, and Marie continued, "She says that she reclaimed them from Venete's offices, where he himself had hidden them." Jan looked over toward Venete, who was sitting, head cradled in his hands.

The prosecutor stood and eyed the judge very severely, then cast a withering glance at Venete. He picked up the certificates from in front of the judge, perused them quickly, and began speaking now, quite loudly. "He, ah, says that this is most interesting. He was unaware of this situation. It seems obvious to him that, since the countess is alive, Venete's claim upon the chateau and its contents is illegal, and was fraudulently attempted. As representative of the State's interest in this, he wants to know more about this matter."

The countess stood, pointing toward Venete and the judge, her voice rising. "She accuses the judge and Venete of conspiring to usurp her land and other holdings. She also claims that Venete faked the theft of these documents in order to coerce Mademoiselle Pappas into allowing him to violate her honor. She demands that justice be done, that her chateau and possessions be returned to her, and that the charges of theft against you be dropped."

The prosecutor nodded. He spoke to the assembled group, leaning forward with his hands on the table. Marie echoed, "He says that, assuming that the documents in front of the countess are indeed the ones in question, he agrees. He sees much evidence of wrongdoing here, but it is not by you. He promises that, as representative of the State, he will seek punishment, if this is true."

The judge now stood, red-faced and yelling, and the prosecutor walked toward a side door. He opened it a crack, waved his hand, and a police official entered. He pointed toward Venete and the judge, and whispered something. The official blanched a bit, witnessing the shouting, then waved to the two gendarmes standing next to Janice. They left her side and conferred with the police official, then stood, looking nervously. Jan, watching the swirl of activity around her, noted that during the judge's outburst, the two palookas who had been standing silently on one corner of the room were advancing and taking places to either side of the countess, their eyes fixed unblinkingly on the judge. While this swirl of activity took place, Marie kept up a running commentary. "The judge says that this is ridiculous. He should hold us all for contempt of court. He has never been so outraged in his life." As the two palookas advanced and stared hard at the judge, he began to falter, then stopped speaking. His hand went unconsciously to a mark on his forehead which appeared to be an abrasion. He cleared his throat nervously and then said something, gesturing toward the countess and the documents. Marie said, "He does not believe that those are the documents in question. If he is to drop the theft charges against you, he demands proof of their authenticity."

Derea stood and spoke to the judge. "He wants Melinda to verify the authenticity of the documents, or you." The judge shook his head and muttered something. "He won't allow it. Both of you are not believable witnesses. He wants someone else to verify them. Someone who isn't in this room. If there is anyone, that is."

The prosecutor now spoke. "He says that the State is also very interested in the authenticity of the ancient documents, as the validity of the charges against you depend on that, in his eyes. He asks if there is anyone else that can attest to their validity."

Jan said, "Yeah. Mack. He's in the courtroom." One of the two palookas looked at Jan, then said something to the prosecutor. He looked at the man, then at the judge, then waved to a gendarme, speaking further. The gendarme nodded and left the room. The judge sat down, and there was a very uneasy silence in the room for several moments. The door opened again and the gendarme entered, followed by Mack and the court reporter. She quickly set down her machine, assuming a seat behind it. Mack cast eyes around the room as he attempted to appraise the situation. The prosecutor pointed at Marie. They spoke for a moment, she nodding affirmatively to his questions.

Marie looked at Jan. "I am to translate this. Excuse, please." Jan nodded, placed her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on her cuffed hands, watching intently. The prosecutor spoke to Mack. Marie stood and translated, "Monsieur MacKenzie, you are needed as an expert witness here."

Mack replied, "What can I do?"

The prosecutor spoke again, and Marie pointed to the leather binder open in front of the countess. "You are to examine those documents, and tell us what they are." Mack nodded, and walked over to the side of the table occupied by the countess. At that, Venete protested loudly. The prosecutor responded, then looked toward the judge. The judge hesitated, then looked up and around at the faces gathered in the room. When he caught sight of the two palookas, he slowly nodded permission. Venete sputtered for a moment, then stared hard at the judge. The man avoided his gaze. The prosecutor began speaking again, and Marie translated, looking at Mack. "You are to be sworn in. Wait a moment. Do not look at the documents just yet." Mack nodded. The prosecutor motioned toward Mack, and a gendarme approached him and placed a Bible on the table in front of Mack. The judge looked at Mack, then waved a hand with an air of resignation. The prosecutor spoke, Marie's words offering a running translation. "Raise your right hand and place your left hand on the Bible." Mack did so. "Do you affirm in the sight of God that what you will say from now on is the truth, only the truth?"

"I do." Marie translated, then the prosecutor continued in his questioning, Marie translating back and forth.

"What is your name?"

"Mack MacKenzie."

"What is your level of education?"

"I hold a doctorate in history."

"What is your current occupation?"

"Historian. Currently lecturer in history, University of Maryland."

"What ancient languages can you read?"

"I have moderate fluency in Latin, Old English, and classical Greek."

"Do you know the accused?"

"Yes."

"You are friends with her?"

"Yes."

The prosecutor studied Mack very severely. Marie translated his words. "Do you understand that you are under oath here? That the penalty for perjury is quite severe in our country? Ten years minimum in prison?"

"Yes."

The prosecutor nodded. Marie translated his next words. "Look at the documents on the table. Take your time, study them, and tell us what they are. Can you do that?"

"Yes." Mack leaned forward, gazing at the documents, as the countess gently pushed the leather binder toward him. He scanned each one quickly, gently lifting each one to peruse the next below it. After some moments, he straightened up. "They are letters and poems in classical Greek text."

"Who wrote them? Can you tell us that?"

"Some contain the signature of the poetess Sappho of Mytilene. Some contain the signature of Gabrielle, warrior-bard of Potidaea."

"Are these the documents which are missing from the basement of the chateau? The documents which the accused is under arrest for stealing?"

"Yes."

"They are all there? None are missing?"

"They are all here, every one of them."

"Thank you. Monsieur Derea, do you have questions for the witness?" Derea stood and spoke in French. Marie echoed, in English, "No thank you. I am satisfied." The prosecutor nodded, then Marie translated his words. "Thank you. Doctor MacKenzie, you are dismissed. Please return to your seat in the courtroom. We will call you again if we need you." Mack nodded, then walked to the door. A gendarme ushered him out.

In the courtroom, the crowd was unsettled, shifting on their seats and murmuring amongst themselves. Sallie sat on the hard wooden bench, rubbing her temples and groaning inwardly at the headache which was returning with a vengeance. The room was becoming warm with the press of bodies, and she felt a dampness of perspiration wet her dress slightly. Mack walked out of the back rooms and returned to his seat next to her. Sallie leaned over and grasped his arm.

"Mack, what the hell is going on? What did they want you for in there?"

He patted her hand. "Don't think I'm supposed to talk about it just yet. Tell you after this is over."

"Is it ever going to be over? My ass is asleep from this seat, and my headache is pounding."

"I'm sorry, honey. I think it will be ended very soon now. Try to hang on." Their conversation was interrupted by the shouting of voices from behind the closed door to the back rooms. The courtroom instantly quieted, allowing the voices to echo more clearly. After a minute or two, the sound of a scuffle was heard. The door to the room flung open. Two gendarmes ushered Venete out, hustling him down the aisle through the courtroom, leaving through the large courtroom entrance. Sallie noted that his hands were cuffed in front of him. At that, the room hushed for a moment, then quickly became a dull roar of questions and excited conversation. Sallie watched the spectacle, then turned wide, dark eyes at Mack.

"Did what I think just happened really happen?" In response, Mack just grinned from ear to ear and nodded. He then peered at Sallie, leaned over to her, and whispered, "Hey, good-lookin', have I ever told you that I'm a sucker for big brown eyes?"

Sallie grinned and punched him playfully in the arm. "Only about a million times. Be serious, Mack. How come you always get frisky in the most serious situations? Jan's life is in danger of being ruined here, and you're flirting with me?"

"Oh, I don't think she's got a problem. Wait and see."

The door to the back rooms again opened, and several people poured out. The prosecutor and Derea took their places at their respective tables. Mel followed, and sat next to Sallie. Jan was ushered out by a gendarme and seated in the prisoner's dock. Marie followed, and sat next to her. Derea turned around to whisper to Mack, Mel and Sallie. "We are almost done. Please, be patient." At a clerk's announcement, the entire courtroom quieted and stood. The judge appeared and took his seat at his bench. Everyone sat, and the judge rapped his gavel and began speaking. He did not speak for long, and then rapped his gavel again, stood, and rapidly departed back through the door. The courtroom broke out into pandemonium, reporters dashing for the door, others standing and trying to depart. The prosecutor stood and walked over to Derea. They held a brief conversation, then shook hands and the prosecutor departed. Mack, Mel and Sallie looked about them in wonder, then at each other and shrugged their shoulders. As their eyes traveled back to Derea, they saw Janice bounce across the floor of the courtroom, hands free of their handcuffs, and catch Derea in a resounding bear hug.

"Derea, I love ya. You're a champ!" At that, he just smiled in his most charming, self-depreciating manner.

"Not at all, Doctor Covington." He turned to Mack, Mel, and Sallie. "Ah, the charges have been dropped. She is free to go." Mel felt a bit dizzy, then recovered quickly as she felt Jan embrace her. She held on tightly, eyes closed for a minute, then looked down at the blonde head in front of her. Janice's hazel eyes absolutely sparkled, and she leaned up slightly and planted a hardy kiss on Mel's mouth, unmindful of any observers.

"Oh, Jan, ah'm so glad. Now, let's get out of here, shall we?"

Jan stepped back, waving a finger in the air. "Not yet. There's someone I've got to speak to."

Marie joined the group. "If you mean the countess, she will await you at the chateau. She wishes all of you to be her guests there as soon as you can return. She is most anxious to see you all."

Sallie exclaimed, "The countess? Hey, fill me in. I thought she was dead."

Jan shook her head. "Not by a long shot." As Sallie's expression, Jan just laughed. "Long story. Let's talk about it on the way back, hey?"

Sallie assumed a put-out expression, hand on one hip, eyes squinting at the group, finger waving. "You guys have some explaining to do."

There was a round of laughter at that, then Jan turned to Marie, who stood next to Derea. "Thanks, both of you. I owe you guys. Look, Monsieur Derea, about your fee......"

He waved a hand in dismissal of the thought. "It was my pleasure, Doctor Covington. No fee is necessary." Jan stood open-mouthed for a second, and Marie laughed brightly.

"Don't let him fool you. He is being paid by the American Embassy."

Jan raised an eyebrow, and then joked, "Well, tell you what. If I ever meet that girlfriend of yours, I'll tell her what a good man you are. Maybe she'll believe me."

Marie smiled. "I believe him, Doctor Covington. I always have. I just like to keep him guessing." At that, she looped an arm around Derea's shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.

"You? You're his girl?"

Marie looked affectionately at Derea. "I'd better be the one you were talking about."

Derea just shrugged. "Ah, you are, Cherie. Believe me, I know better than to be unfaithful to a girl who carries a gun and knows how to use a tape recorder." He glanced back at Jan. "But there is something you could do, if you would be so kind?"

Jan waved a hand. "Yeah, sure. Name it."

Derea rummaged in his briefcase and brought forth a book. Holding it out to Jan, he shyly inquired, "Would you please inscribe my book?" Jan accepted the book and stared down at it. She noted the title: 'The Xena Legends'. Underneath, in smaller print, her own name echoed back at her: 'by J. Covington, Ph.D.'

Jan smiled. "Honored. Got a pen?" Derea pulled a fountain pen out of his pocket and offered it. Jan took the pen and walked over to the table. She lay the book open to its front page, unscrewed the cap from the pen, and scribbled a message. When she finished, she offered the book back to Derea, along with his pen.

He opened the book and read the inscription, nodding pleasantly. "You are too kind." Noting the quizzical expressions of those around him, he gestured and asked, "May I?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." He held the open book out for the others to read. There, in Janice's bold penmanship, was the following note:



'To Raymond-

Thanks to my knight in shining armor for rescuing this somewhat tarnished damsel in distress.

Always, Jan Covington.

June, 1947'



When the group emerged from the front doors of the courthouse, they were mobbed by a group of reporters, all clicking cameras and shouting in French. Jan blinked a bit in the bright sun, and muttered, "Holy crap! What's this?"

Derea smiled. "It would seem that your fame precedes you, Doctor Covington. They wish to ask you questions. The press, you know. Do you wish to make a statement to them?"

Jan shrugged. "Why not?" Derea held up a hand and shouted, quieting the crowd of reporters. He said a few words, Marie translating for the four Americans.

"He says that you will make a statement to them. What do you wish to say?"

Jan looked at Mel, then grinned. "Tell them that their jail sucks, the judge was crooked and I can't wait to get a bath, have a good stiff drink and then chase Mel around the bedroom naked." Mack and Sallie collapsed in laughter behind her, but Mel just looked at Jan with horror.

"Janice Covington, you can't say that!"

Derea, who had overheard the whispered remarks, just grinned from ear to ear and then began speaking to the reporters. Marie, still laughing from Jan's unrestrained comments, began translating.

"He says that you were treated very nicely in the jail and are impressed by the deep desire of the French people to see true justice done. You thank them all for their concern and are looking forward to seeing for yourself the legendary greatness of Paris."

At that, the crowd of reporters nodded, smiling, and began shouting questions. Jan fielded a few, Marie translating for the crowd. After a bit, Derea again raised his hand and spoke. The crowd began disbursing, and Derea turned to Jan.

"I have asked them to give you time to rest and recover from your ordeal. If any want personal interviews, they have only to request them through my office, and perhaps you may grant a couple. Shall we go?"

The group left the courthouse stairs and walked over to the cars parked nearby. They stopped next to the touring car. Derea held out a hand to Jan. "Doctor Covington, it has been an honor."

Jan took the hand. "Call me Jan, will ya?"

He bowed slightly. "Raymond, please. You still have my card?" She nodded. "You can reach either Marie or myself there. We will take our leave of you now."

"Look, at least allow us to show our appreciation for all you've done. Say, you two can be our guests at dinner in Paris tonight. We'll give you a call when we settle into the hotel."

Derea and Marie brightened at that. "We would be delighted. See you then?"

"Done." A round of handshakes and hugs followed, and the group split up, Derea and Marie heading for a black embassy sedan, the rest piling into the touring car. Mack held out the keys for Jan, but she shook her head. "Nah. I'm sitting in the back with Mel. You drive, Mack."

He raised an eyebrow. "This is a first. You two behave back there, will you?"

At that, Mel spoke up. "That depends on how fast you drive, Mack."

The touring car pulled out onto the road, winding through the village and then out into the countryside toward the distant chateau. At Sallie's insistence, Jan outlined the events which transpired in the back room at the courthouse. Sallie sat turned around on the front seat next to Mack, soaking in every word. As the conversation fell silent, Sallie suddenly got a puzzled look on her face and turned around to speak to Mack. "Honey?" He grunted in response to her query. "Did you just run over something?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Then what's that smell?" She sniffed a couple of times. "It smells like......a locker room or a dead animal or something."

Mack chuckled, Mel placed a hand over her mouth to hide a grin, and Jan just rolled her eyes. "Jeez. No respect. I get no respect."

Mack came to Jan's rescue. "They didn't let her bathe in jail, Sallie."

Sallie cast wide, dark eyes at Jan, then slumped down in her seat with a bright scarlet blush on her face and a mumbled, "Oh. Sorry."

Mel patted Jan on the head, smiled a most endearing smile, and just offered, "That's all right, darlin'. You're still the cutest thing on two legs, even if you do stink."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN

In their room at the chateau, Jan emerged from the bathroom freshly scrubbed. She dressed quickly in clean but casual clothes, Mel gazing up from her book to admire her. She watched Jan brush out her hair, then reach for her beret.

"Jan?"

"Yeah?"

"Wait a moment." Mel rose and walked over to Jan, turning her first one way and then another by the shoulders. "Do me a big favor?"

"Whuzzat?"

"You always put your hair back in that pony-tail. Leave it loose, will you? You look absolutely marvelous like that."

"Really? Hell, I don't even think about it." She noted the look in Mel's eyes. "You like it down that much?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Well, sure, since you like it." She cast the beret back onto the bathroom sink and turned back to the door, just as Mel caught her and planted a long kiss on her mouth. When Jan came up for air, she whispered, "Mel, you're messing with a girl who's been in jail. Keep that up and we're gonna end up being rude to the countess."

"Oh, mah goodness, you're quite right. Come on."

They found their way to the dining room, where Mack and Sallie were sitting at the table and chatting with the countess. At their entrance, Mack rose and greeted them. The countess turned and smiled, then stood and met them, offering a slight hug and a kiss on either cheek to both women. She waved them to the table, then offered them tea. As she poured, she spoke in fluent English, traced with an undefinable accent. "I am delighted that all is well for you, ah... may I call you Janice?"

"Please do. Jan, if you like."

"I am Alais. Everyone around here refers to me as 'the countess', but I find that I miss hearing my own name spoken."

Jan accepted the cup and saucer of hot tea with a nod of thanks. "You know, I'm really grateful to you for showing up when you did."

"Oh, the court?"

Jan met her eyes, those wise, sad eyes which she recognized. "That, too." The eyes twinkled slightly, then Alais addressed her next thought to all four of her guests.

"I am given to understand that it was the four of you who found the remains of Xena and Gabrielle last year, in Greece?" As she looked around the table, she saw four heads nod. "Ah. I understand that it was quite a dangerous adventure."

Jan chuckled, "Guess you could say that we had help. Er, friends in high places?"

Alais smiled wistfully. "So I am told. The ancestors will always protect the descendants. Melinda, you are reputed to be a descendant of Xena?"

"Why, yes, ah suppose so. Last of the line, so, ah....... 'they' tell me. And Jan, here, is....."

Alais finished the sentence. "Yes. I saw the resemblance before, but now, with your hair loose like that, it is incredible. You are so much like her, like Gabrielle."

Sallie leaned forward. "You saw the pictures of the tomb murals, Alais?"

Janice spoke before Alais could answer. "No. She saw them."

Sallie's eyes traveled back and forth from Alais to Jan. "You mean their ghosts, spirits, whatever, like we did?"

Jan shook her head slowly. "No. I mean.... them." There was dead silence at the table. Alais and Jan just sat still for a moment, their expressions gentle and warm, their eyes fixed one upon another quite like dear old friends might sit across from each other at a café table. Finally, Jan softly inquired, "The goddess Aphrodite, I presume?"

Alais sat upright in her chair, a picture of grace and timeless dignity, her hands folded in her lap. "That was a long time ago. We immortals were like wayward, spoiled children then. We toyed with humanity as little ones play with dolls, never wise enough to understand the consequences of our tantrums. How we hurt you so, even when we only wanted to do good."

Sallie leaned forward, totally fascinated. "So exactly how long have you been alive, ah... Alais?"

"Our exact origins are lost in the mists of history. In mortal years, I cannot say, my dear."

Mack offered a guess. "Let me guess at, maybe, fifteen thousand years?"

"Perhaps so. When one is immortal, one does not count the years so. We had a purpose once. It has long since passed. There are but few of us left, and we have faded into the ranks of humanity."

Mel spoke now. "And live for a time as a mortal, before you disappear to assume another life? After all, you do not age, ah take it?"

"We do not age. What mortals wish for most, we have. It is a curse, believe me."

Jan assumed a puzzled expression. "But Derea had your birth certificate in court."

Alais smiled slightly and snapped her fingers. A document appeared on the table in front of them. "I have found that my powers have diminished somewhat over the centuries, but I can still do some tricks. Whenever I assume a new identity, I always provide the local government with documents to prove myself."

Mack reached out and pulled the paper to him, examining it. "I'll be damned," he muttered. He passed it over to Sallie, who studied it with rapt fascination.

Jan took a sip of tea as she listened, then placed the cup down. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

"As I say, the ancestors protect the descendants. I had a visit from an old, old friend."

"Gabrielle?"

"Even so. When I became aware of the import of the situation, I felt that it was imperative to make things right. You see, she was worried only about you. She was, as usual, selfless in that. I, however, felt another obligation pull at me in addition to your safety. The poems and letters which were involved had been buried in these basements for a reason."

Jan quizzically cocked her head to one side slightly. "They were never meant to see the light of day again, were they?"

"Never. When Venete got his hands upon them, I knew that he would sell them. They would be made public, perhaps. That, I could not allow. I reclaimed them from him. I had intended to keep their existence secret, but you were arrested for their disappearance. That was intolerable. I knew then that both the letters and I would have to make a public appearance."

Jan nodded. "And I appreciate that more than I can ever tell you, trust me."

Mel looked at the countess. "Tell me, Alais, why was it so important that they be kept secret? Ah have read them. They are simply beautiful expressions of affection."

"Yes, they are. An affection which never should have been, you see. My fault, it was." Alais sighed deeply, then took a sip of tea. When she began speaking, her voice and expression seemed to reflect a time long past. "How I loved that little bard. She was so sweet, and yet so strong, so noble. I loved her as I loved my Sappho. In them and in Xena, I saw the best humanity had to offer. Xena brought Gabrielle's strength into perfection, you know. They were connected by a bond so close that it became ageless. 'Soul-mates' is the term in English, I believe. I should have known better than to do what I did."

Jan sat forward, placing her forearms on the table. "You put her and Sappho together?"

"Gabrielle was so distraught after Xena's death. The grief threatened to destroy her, I feared. As the goddess of love, I should have understood how she and Xena were bonded. I didn't. All I saw and felt from her was aching loneliness. I feared for her sanity, you know. She lived alone, she traveled alone, she ate alone, she slept alone. She withdrew into herself so that her fire, her passion seemed dead. Then I heard the solitary prayers of my Sappho in the night, my Sappho who existed to love and be loved. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. I only sought to make them both happy again."

"But it didn't work?"

"It broke four hearts, in the end. In my ignorance, I fear that I made a terrible time for them all."

Sallie softly interjected, "Four hearts?"

"When one has not known a certain love, they do not miss it. When one has known a love, when one has been filled with that glorious connection to another heart, its later absence is devastating to the spirit. Yes, the untimely affair between the two bards brought suffering to four souls."

Sallie puzzled. "Gabrielle and Sappho were two, obviously. Who were the others?"

Mel answered, "Xena was the third."

Alais continued, "Yes. In those years after Xena's death, Gabrielle was not alone, as she and I often thought. Xena was by her side constantly, watching over her. I should have seen that. In my naivete, I did not. When the two bards gave way to their passion, it struck Xena to the very soul. She had to watch it unfold, you see, as she watched over her love from her nearby station in the timelessness of the next life. What that must have been like for her, to see her soul's mate in the embrace of another! She finally reached through the realms to appear to Gabrielle."

Jan nodded. "That's when Gabrielle left Sappho."

"She left, wrapped not only in the agony of her separation from Xena, but now burdened with the knowledge of the disappointment, the anguish of heart which the affair had caused in both Sappho and Xena. She left worse than she arrived. It was not long after that, as I recall, that she implored me to release her from her despair. I watched by her side as she finally found that release in her own death."

"And Sappho?"

Alais looked at Mack. "You are known as an historian. Do you recall the legends?"

He nodded. "It is said that Sappho, in response to her unrequited love for the boatman Phaon, hurled herself off a cliff into the ocean below and died."

Alais smiled sadly. "So the legends go. It was not for Phaon."

Jan said, "The Lover's Cliff? It was for Gabrielle."

Alais concluded, "And so, you see, within a half-year of mortal time after that, both my beloved Sappho and my dear little Gabrielle had taken their own lives. I have wept for that mistake for almost two thousand years now."

Sallie said, "The fourth heart? It was yours, wasn't it?" Alais nodded.

"Which brings us to the letters and poems."

Alais looked at Jan. "Yes. I attempted to make some amends. As she lay on her deathbed, I promised an old, old friend that I would keep the knowledge of this tragic story silent for all time. It was, as I remember, her last request. I fear that, once again, I have failed Gabrielle." She rose and walked to a bureau, opening the drawer. She withdrew the leather binder and hugged it close to her, returning to the table. As she laid the binder on the center of the table, she looked at the four faces. "It is in your hands now. I know that you will treat their story gently, but I fear that an ignorant world will just make jokes over it. They will think the story a plaything for their amusement, and offer disrespect to their memories."

Jan looked at Sallie. "It's your research."

Sallie shook her head. "I gave it to you. What do you wish to do, Jan?" Jan looked around the table, studying the faces which gazed at her. After a long moment, she pulled the binder toward her and opened it. She picked up the ancient parchments and stood from the table, walking over to the fireplace. Holding the documents out in one hand, she pulled her Zippo out of her pocket with the other and flipped it open.

Before Jan struck the flint, she looked at the occupants of the table. "Are we all in agreement on this?" Mack nodded silently. Sallie did the same. Jan looked at Mel, who sat silently for a moment, then spoke for the group.

"Burn it, Jan."

Jan struck the flint, and held the corner of the parchments to the flame. As it caught and spread, she held the documents out and thrust them into the fireplace. They burned down into cinders, blackened and smoking, the writing obliterated for all time. Jan clicked the lighter shut and walked back to the table, sitting in silence and staring at the cup of tea in front of her. No one spoke. After a bit, she looked up, shaking her head slightly to toss her hair out of her face. "Well, there goes my excavation of Sappho's home, I guess. The directions to her house were in there."

"No they weren't, Jan. Ah made notes. Perhaps we can still find it."

Alais added, "When you prepare to seek it out, Jan, write me. I will show you exactly where to find it." She shrugged and added, "After all, I've been there, you know."

Jan grinned at the joke. "Suppose you have at that. Say, how do you feel now?"

"Thank you, I feel better than I have in two thousand years."

"Do you think that Aphrodite will weep for them any more?"

"I'm quite sure that Aphrodite is deeply grateful to you all." She rose and walked to a china cabinet, returning with glasses and a decanter bottle. Offering one glass out to each, she filled them all, and then raised her own glass in a toast. "To the best that humanity has to offer, and which is gathered at my table today." They drank the toast, and as they set their glasses down, Mack commented on the liquor.

"Excellent brandy."

"Thank you. I don't call it 'Napoleon's Brandy' for nothing."

Mack looked down at the glass, then back at her with a shocked look. "You're kidding!"

In return, Alais just smiled a knowing little smile and added, "I am quite surprised that it still exists. That scoundrel Venete seems to have consumed much of my private stock."

Sallie spoke up at that. "Yes, I'm curious about something, Alais. May I ask you a question?" At her nod, Sallie continued, "If you're immortal, how did you come to allow the Gestapo to arrest you? It must have been in your power to elude them."

Mack added, "That's true. If the God of War is any indication, immortals can manipulate the elements, bend the laws of nature and so on. What went on there?"

"As I suggested, we do not age. From time to time, we must simply fade from the life we are leading and reappear somewhere else to establish a new life. That is how we traverse the ages in this realm. We must not, above all, attract attention to ourselves. When the Gestapo arrested me, I knew that they would spirit me away. I saw that as a marvelous opportunity to simply disappear, so I allowed it." She shook her head slightly. "What happened to me next, I never could have anticipated."

Sallie leaned forward, eyes wide. "You actually went to the camps, didn't you?"

"Yes. You see, I was taken with those who sought shelter in my basements. We were kept together, under constant watch. I was never alone. They then loaded us into a railroad boxcar, locking us inside. They counted us as we entered, and made it very clear that any escape would result in the immediate death of everyone else in the car. As you can imagine, they were very thorough. I simply had no opportunity to disappear. The others would have been killed. So, I was forced to maintain my presence there until we reached the camps. I then looked for the first opportunity I could find to be alone so I could simply vanish. It was not for a while, I am afraid."

Sallie questioned her. "You were actually in there?"

"Oh, yes. It was quite some time before I could absent myself from the others to effect my escape. When I finally did so, I sought to spend time away from humanity entirely, so completely had the awful spectacle affected me. I sought out the mountains and wilderness. I did not even wish to return here after the war. I only returned when Gabrielle informed me of your situation here."

"What did you see in those camps, Alais?"

Alais sighed. "I have no words to describe it. I have seen innumerable wars. I have lived through the Black Death, the Revolution, the religious inquisitions. But of all that I have seen over the ages, those scenes will stay with me most strikingly. The absolute agony of the human spirit there defied any belief." She pulled back the cuff of her sleeve to reveal a series of numbers tattooed on her wrist in blue ink. "They numbered us like cattle. It took them three times, with me. They could not pierce my skin, you know. On the third time, I allowed it so as not to attract attention to myself." She gazed down at her wrist. "I could simply will it away, I suppose, but somehow I cannot bring myself to do that. Perhaps, one day far from now, I might. Not just yet."

Sallie rose from the table, her hand over her mouth. She mumbled an "Excuse me," and hurried from the room. The others watched her go, and then glanced at Mack. He offered a pained expression and an explanation.

"Sallie's Jewish, you know. Near as we can figure, she lost an uncle, an aunt, and three cousins roughly her own age in those camps. She remembers visiting them before the war, and their playing together as children."

Alais replied, "Ah, I should not have mentioned it."

"No, it's okay. She's probably in the room. I'll go and sit with her for a bit, if you don't mind." Mack made to rise, but Alais placed a hand on his wrist.

"No, Mack. Let her alone for just a while. Sometimes, the purging of one's emotions is a private affair. Sit with us, eh? She will be grateful to have been left alone." He slowly returned to his seat. "Now, let us speak of happier things. I understand that you wish to see Paris? Wonderful idea. Why don't you plan to do that today? Of course, you are welcome to stay with me at any time, but you have had a difficult ordeal lately. Look, go into the city and see the marvelous sights. Stay for several days, if you wish. I can recommend the most wonderful hotel. It overlooks the Seine. Have fun. Be in love! Then, when you are rested, come again to my chateau and continue your researches. There is still much in the basements to study. Trust me, you have not found it all. Jan, I believe that you and Melinda were especially interested in the poems of Sappho? Come again to me, in several days. I will show you something that will astound you, eh? Besides, it will take me some time to begin to return my chateau to proper condition. The Germans looted much of it, but all it takes is money and time." She waved her hands as she made the next joke. "I am immortal. I have plenty of time. Besides, I want to rid my property of the possessions of Venete, and reclaim my rooms. Now, go and have fun. Give me a few days to clean up around here."

"Sounds like a terrific idea, Alais. Guess our budget can string out for a few days in Paris."

Alais rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course. How stupid of me. Allow me." With that, she snapped her fingers. "Now, have fun. Go be fabulously in love, in Paris. I will have the car brought around for you, and my man will drive you there. Go and pack, and return to me when you feel ready." With that, she rose and beamed a smile at the three sitting at the table, then hurried out of the room.

Mack got a strangely puzzled expression on his face, then reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a wad of Frank notes. "What the hell? Where'd this come from?" He flipped through them and muttered, "Holy Christ! There must be thousands here."

Jan rummaged in her pocket as well, and brought forth a second wad of colorful paper money. She and Mack traded glances, and then grinned broadly at each other. "Hot damn, Mack. What say we take our women and hit the bricks in Paris?"

"Best idea I've heard all day, old pal." At that, all three rose from the table and made for the stairs. Mack held out an arm each to Jan and Melinda, and said, "Mademoiselles?" They each took an arm, and tread in unison toward their rooms. As they ascended the stairs, Jan laughed brightly.

"Funny how things work out. This morning, I was stinkin'. Now, I'm stinkin' rich!"

Mel added, "And, Janice Covington, ah'll take you either way!"



CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jan, Mel, Mack and Sallie sat at the table in the upscale restaurant, the wine warming their conversation and the pleasant companionship completing the mood. Two seats sat vacant. Mel eyed the seats and looked over at Jan. "Are you sure they understood you correctly?"

Jan nodded. "Oh, yeah. They said they might be a few minutes late."

Sallie pointed, her large, dark eyes excited. "There they are now." She waved, and the pleasant young French couple joined them at the table. Mack stood, gesturing toward the two empty chairs. Derea held out a chair for Marie, he and Mack seating themselves after Marie had settled comfortably into hers. Derea offered apology to the rest of the table for their tardiness.

"So sorry. Business, you know."

"Aw, not a problem. We were about to order. You guys are just in time." After an examination of the menus and consultation with Derea and Marie, they offered orders to the waiter. He departed, and Jan reached out with the wine bottle to fill their glasses.

Marie looked about the table. "You are enjoying your stay in Paris?" Nodding heads answered, and Mel spoke for the group.

"We haven't had much time to see anything yet. We'll start tomorrow. Any suggestions?"

Derea dropped a few suggestions, Marie enlarging on them and adding a couple of their own. Mack leaned forward. "Be fun to go dancing tonight, just a bit. Know a good place?"

Marie nodded, then looked toward Jan and Mel. "Of course. You girls like to dance?"

Jan and Mel cast each other a grinning glance, and Mel answered. "Mah goodness, we haven't done that in a while." She lowered her voice just slightly, and continued, "Have to be careful where we go, you know."

Marie gave an understanding nod. "Ah, of course. Let us take you to a little place which we frequent. It will be fine there. You will find the atmosphere there, ah, how do you say?.....very accepting."

Jan accepted. "Sounds like a deal. Mack, Sallie, you with us?"

Sallie squeezed Mack's arm. "Just try to get rid of us!" She stood, excusing herself. "The powder room?"

Mel stood. "Ah'll go with you. Excuse us?" All nodded, and the two men half-rose as the women left the table, seating themselves as they watched Mel and Sallie depart. Jan took a sip of her wine, then looked over at Mack.

"You two are lucky, I guess. Like Mel said, we have to be careful. Not everyone is accepting of us."

Mack scratched his chin, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Believe it or not, we catch a lot of flack as well."

Jan raised an eyebrow. "What? How's that? Age difference?"

"Naw, not really. There's only about eight years difference between us. It's something else."

"Oh?"

Mack gestured with a hand as he explained. "Sallie's taking an incredible beating from her family because she's hooked up with me."

Jan puzzled. "What? Why? Because you two aren't married?"

"There's three strikes against me. We're living together out of wedlock. I've been divorced. The real kicker, though, is that I'm not Jewish. That's a slap in the face to the older, more traditional members of her family. Do you know that she's been literally disowned by some of her older relatives? They refuse to even acknowledge that she exists any more. The younger ones are all on her side, but she still defies her older, more traditional relatives to be with me."

"That's tough, Mack. I had no idea. How's she taking it?"

"Hard. She cries sometimes, when she gets an occasional letter. She doesn't think I know, but I do." He shook his head. "I often worry that I will lose her because of it."

Marie leaned forward. "Forgive me for being so blunt, Mack, but why don't you just marry her?"

Mack smiled. "Funny you should say that. I want to ask her, but I'm actually afraid to. It might force her hand, make her choose. You know, me or her family." He reached into his suit-coat pocket, and brought forth a small box. He opened it, to show a ring. "Had it for a week now. I was going to spring the question, but somehow, with all that was going on in the last week, it just didn't seem the right time."

Marie smiled knowingly. "That is all done now. You are in Paris, the city of light. Love is in the air here. I believe that she will say 'yes', if you ask."

"Think so?"

"Trust me, another woman can tell these things. You ask, Mack. You will not be disappointed."

Jan chimed in, "Yeah, Mack. You guys are terrific together. Do it." Jan glanced up. "Hey, put that thing away. Here they come."

Mack slipped the box back into his coat pocket, then eyed the others at the table. "You folks really think so?" Three heads nodded enthusiastically. "Thanks."

The dinner was superb, and afterward, the three couples walked the streets of Paris until they came to the door of a small club. The man at the entrance smiled when he recognized Derea and Marie, and nodded deferentially to the two American couples, waving them inside. Mack and Derea checked their hats, and they found a table in the pleasant, slightly smoky interior of the club. Drinks were ordered and delivered, and the group talked and laughed into the evening. As the small band came back from their break and began playing, a sultry voice offered a pleasant melody in French. Derea looked at Marie, whispered something, and they both stood. Marie looked at the others and pointed toward the band. "This is our song. Excuse us?"

Jan glanced over to the dance floor and noticed several couples. She rose and offered a hand to Mel. "Join me?" Mel's eyes roamed around the club. She noted a few other female couples, then nodded. As they made their way to the floor, Jan noticed that Mack and Sallie followed. In a moment, all were lost in the thick scattering of couples embracing, weaving to the slow, alluring tune. Jan noted that Mel seemed a bit self-conscious and stiff at first, but seemed to relax when the sky didn't crash down on their heads because they were dancing in public.

"So, Mel. Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, Jan. Ah'm having a wonderful time. Ah had no idea how ah've missed dancing with you."

"You remember the first time we did this?"

Mel chuckled. "Ah'll say. Ah thought it was simply scandalous, us dancing together."

"It was. I loved it. I had my face buried in your boobs all night."

Mel blazed her trademark smile. "Yes, you did. Ah wondered why you didn't talk much. It's a wonder you could even hear the music."

"Music? There was music?" Jan looked up at Mel. "Say, what's up? Either I've grown, or you've become shorter."

"No, darlin'. Ah just wear flats now, whenever we're out together."

Jan hugged Mel closer. "That's my Mel. Always thinking of me, aren't you?"

"Always."

The music stopped, and the couples applauded the band. Another song began, and they resumed their dancing. The three couples stayed out on the dance floor for quite some time, lost in the exquisite moments which seemed to tick by, lost in the heady, slightly decadent romance of the evening, lost to all but each other. Finally, the band took another break. The sultry singer nodded her thanks, and Jan squeezed Mel's hand. "Gotta use the little girl's room. Come with me?"

She nodded, and they made their way to the lavatory door. Jan disappeared into one of the stalls and Mel stood to one side, waiting for her to emerge. When she did, they turned to leave, and the next stall's door opened. Jan found herself face-to-face with a dour, unsmiling expression. Janice offered a surprised look, then a grinning exclamation.

"Well, small world! If it ain't the bride of King Kong!" Mel stood near Jan, slightly shocked at her mate's display of rudeness. The woman began chattering very unkindly in rapid French, then shook a finger in Jan's face. Jan responded, "Keep it up, honey. You have no idea how I've wanted to find you out of uniform." Mel noted the bristling stance that Jan took, and stepped forward to intervene.

"Now, Jan, stop that. Let's get you out of here." She reached out to grasp Jan's arm, but stopped short when the dour woman brought a switchblade knife from her pocket and clicked it open in Jan's face. Jan backed up a pace and clenched her fist, ready to swing, her eyes fixed on her opponent, but was taken totally by surprise when two long arms flashed out from beside her and drilled fingers into either side of the woman's neck. A look of shocked surprise etched itself across the dour face, and the woman fell to her knees in front of Janice, seemingly frozen. A trickle of blood emerged from one nostril, trailing down across her lips. Mel bent down and gently lifted the knife from the woman's hand, releasing the catch and folding it. As Jan watched in speechless surprise, Mel simply handed the knife to Jan, then pulled her by her sleeve away from the woman. "Let's go, Jan. We just got you out of jail, and ah'm not letting you go back."

"Um, Mel?"

"Yes, darlin'?"

"Shouldn't you undo that.........whatever you did?"

"Oh. Quite right. Ah suppose so." She approached the woman and flashed out her arms again. The woman leaned back against the stall door, still on her knees, coughing and sputtering. Mel grasped Jan by the arm and pulled her toward the door.

As they emerged onto the smoky dance floor and approached their table, Janice studied Mel from the corner of her eye. Finally, she said, "Mel?"

"Yes?"

"Sometimes you scare me, you know that?"

"Sometimes ah scare myself, darlin'."

"Where did you learn to do that?"

Mel seemed puzzled, then just shrugged. "Ah don't know." She smiled slightly, then added, "Ah suppose it's instinctual."

"Guess so." Jan still kept a wary eye on her friend as they returned to the table, seating themselves. Marie noted the silent exchange, then cast a glance toward the lavatory door. She saw a squat, dour woman emerge and head for the club entrance, pausing to cast a withering glance in their table's direction. Marie crossed one leg over the other and turned slightly in her chair, pulling up the hem of her skirt to reveal the thigh holster to the woman's gaze. Without a word, the woman noted it and turned, heading for the club entrance. Marie smoothed down the hem of her skirt, then turned back to the table, eying Jan and Mel.

"Ah, problem?"

Jan smiled. "Naw. Not anymore."

Marie nodded. "Ah. Well, Raymond, I imagine that our friends have had a long day. Shall we see them back to their hotel?"



That night, Mel lay in the dim light of the room, her unclothed form still covered with a light sheen of perspiration, her heartbeat and breathing slowly returning to normal as she turned to her side and pulled the soft sheet up and over her. Janice Covington, she thought, you never cease to amaze me. How do you do what you do to me? She felt the bed move slightly as Janice emerged from the bathroom and slid back into bed behind her, pressing herself against Mel's body and snaking an arm around her waist. After a moment, Jan's voice whispered, "Mel?"

"Hmmm?"

"You awake?"

"Oh, yeah."

"How do you feel?"

"Limp as a dishrag, darlin'."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Surely. What's on that mind of yours?"

"Do you........I mean, how does your family really handle, you know......us?"

Mel was silent for a bit, then turned to face Jan in the night. "What brought this on?"

Jan's hazel eyes were inquisitive, worried. "I was just wondering. Do you catch a lot of grief for being, you know...... with me?"

"No, not too much, anymore. Much of mah family is dead, Jan. The others, well, they know and may not approve, but ah can't help what they think."

"Is it me that they don't approve of, or us?"

"Well, we are a genteel southern family, what's left of us. It is rather shocking to them that ah've hooked up with........"

Jan finished the sentence for her. "With a lesbian? One who gets arrested and dresses like a slob? One who drags you all over the world looking for bits of ancient trash in the dirt? One who's got a lousy legacy, bad karma to live down?"

Mel smiled. "No, darlin'. With a Yankee."

Jan began shaking with silent laughter, then turned onto her back and lay with her forearm over her eyes, her laughter taking voice, ringing softly in the night. Finally, she composed herself enough to speak. "Touche. Guess I had that one coming."

Mel leaned up on one elbow. She placed a hand on the side of Jan's face and gently turned it toward her own. "Now, you listen to me. You are mah family now. You always will be. Somehow, ah think that you always have been. So don't go getting the idea that ah'm going to up and leave you sometime, because you're just stuck with me."

"Forever?"

"Forever, darlin'. How's that for your legacy? How's that karma of yours, now?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way. God, I love you, Mel."

"Ah love you too, Jan, more than ah can ever say. Now, shut up and kiss me." Jan did so, and of all the kisses that she remembered, there was never one sweeter.

As they parted, Jan whispered, "Mel?"

"Yes?"

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

"Why, from you, Jan. Where else would ah have learned it? And by the way, just where did you learn to do what you do to me?"

"Er,......" Just then the telephone jangled loudly, startling them both. Jan seemed slightly relieved to have an excuse not to answer the question, and held up a finger. "Ahem. Let me get that."

Mel just gave a sly look at her companion, and teased, "Uh-hum! Saved by the bell, Jan?"

Jan offered a slightly guilty look at Mel and sat up in bed. She leaned over and raised the receiver. "Covington. Oh, hey! No, that's okay. Good thing you didn't call fifteen minutes ago, though. Yeah, I've still got Derea's number. You in trouble or something? What? You did? She did? That's great, buddy! Tell you what, we'll get on it first thing in the morning. Meet you two for breakfast? Yeah. Hey, not too early, know what I mean? Ten sounds good. See you then. By the way, congrats!" She hung up the phone and looked back at Mel, who was waiting inquisitively for Jan's explanation. Jan chuckled, then simply said, "Well, I'll be damned." She said nothing else for a moment, just gazed at Mel, who finally sat up in bed and gave a look at Jan through squinted eyes.

"What?"

"Mack's in trouble."

"Why, what do you mean, Jan? It sounded a very pleasant conversation."

"Mack and Sallie are officially engaged. They want to get married here in Paris, as soon as possible."

Mel squealed in delight at the news. "That's wonderful, Jan." She then assumed a puzzled expression, and said, "Ah thought you said that Mack was in trouble."

Jan laughed brightly. "Yeah. He wants to get married."

Mel retorted, "Why, Janice Covington, you ol' cynic. Ah'll teach you!" With that, she pounced on Jan, and the two rolled around in the bed, tangling themselves in sheets and pillows, laughing hysterically. Jan wheezed and gasped in between fits of laughter.

"Oh, Jeez, Mel.......you know..........I can't............take being...........tickled like that!"

Mel climbed up on top of Jan. "Give up?"

"Yeah, yeah".......cough, cough........... "I surrender."

Mel gazed down at Jan. "Do you promise to behave? No marriage jokes tomorrow?"

"Promise, Mel. Just don't tickle."

"Well, all right, then. Ah'll get off of you."

"Hey, don't be hasty."

"Huh?"

"I kinda like the view from here. You're gorgeous, you know that?"

Mel laughed and shook her head. "Janice Covington, you are absolutely incorrigible." She climbed off of Jan and settled down in the bed, pulling the sheet up and over her. Jan joined her, worming in next to her and draping an arm over her waist.

"Yeah, but I'm still the cutest thing on two legs, aren't I?"

Mel was silent for a moment, then chuckled slightly. "That you are, Jan. That you are." After another moment, she added, "for a Yankee."

Jan snickered, then whispered, "G'night, gorgeous."

"G'night, cutie."

Outside, perched on the hotel's ornate balcony railing overlooking the Seine, a misty, ephemeral figure sat serenely and smiled a satisfied smile. Luxurious blonde hair cascading about her head and shoulders, Grecian robes and sandaled feet heralded her as a figure quite out of time and place, and yet somehow not out of time and place at all. Her normally sad eyes twinkled with an unaccustomed warmth which they hadn't reflected in many years. She spoke softly, almost to herself. "Ah, Paris. A marvelous place to be in love." The robed one smiled a wistful little smile, nodded her head, and then disappeared into the night, leaving the city of light illuminated with the twinkling of many stars.



The End. -djb, November, 2002.