“You can tell them that and they can have it within ten or fifteen days.”
Vrenschov nodded.
“You may be sure I will do my very best to promote your interests, Mr Radnitz, but, of course, I can’t tell how my people will react. The dam will cost an enormous sum. I hope they will consider the icon enough to tip the scales in your favour.”
“That, of course, is up to them.” Determined to make some profit from the Russians, Radnitz went on, “Even if they don’t give me the contract, I would be willing to buy the icon from my contact if your masters would be willing to pay for it.”
“How much would it cost, Mr Radnitz?”
Mindful that it was his intention not to pay Kendrick anything for the icon, Radnitz said, “Six million dollars.” Seeing Vrenschov flinch, he added, “On the open market, the icon would be worth at least twenty million dollars. Your masters would not only be getting it cheaply, but would be able to make considerable political capital. Who knows? The President might even re-imburse them. To avoid more unwelcome publicity, it is very possible, he would do this.”
“So I have two propositions,” Vrenschov said. “Either you get the dam contract and the icon is returned or you don’t get the contract, but you will sell the icon to my people for six million dollars. Is that correct?”
Radnitz got to his feet.
“You understand perfectly, my dear Vasili. Get me the contract and I will pay you a quarter of a million Swiss francs. If you fail, but your masters pay six million dollars for the icon, I will pay you fifty thousand Swiss francs. Obviously, it will be to your advantage to press hard for the contract.”
“And you can be sure I will, Mr Radnitz.”
The two men shook hands.
“You will hear from me within a week,” Vrenschov said as Radnitz walked with him to the door.
“Mythen has put a little parcel in your car,” Radnitz said. “With the compliments to madame.”
“How kind! How thoughtful!” Vrenschov’s greedy eyes lit up.
Radnitz smiled, then waved good-bye.
On the third day of their stay in Paris, Pierre Duvine took the Lepskis on a sight-seeing tour. Pierre knew Paris like the back of his hand. After a brief tour of the Louvre, he took them to Notre Dame, then to the Ste Chapelle, and finally to the top of the Eiffel Tower. His commentary was so interesting, even Lepski began to accept this cultural tour.
When they had heard what Pierre proposed, Lepski and Carroll, in their hotel room, had their usual fight.
Lepski said the hell with sight-seeing. He wanted to walk the streets and see the way the French lived. Who needed to look at dreary museums?
Carroll would have none of it.
“It is time, Lepski, for you to have some culture! All you think about is crime, food and women. You are going to take this chance to improve your mind!”
Making a noise like a wasp trapped in a bottle, Lepski submitted.
They returned to the hotel at 17.50, all of them slightly weary and footsore.
“Tonight we go to the Tour d’Argent,” Pierre said as they entered the hotel lobby. “One of the great restaurants of Paris. Then we will go to the Lido. I have booked a table.” He nudged Lepski. “Georgeous girls.”
Lepski immediately brightened.
“Fine. How about a drink, Pierre? Let the girls go up, and you and me rinse our tonsils.”
“Lepski! Must you be so vulgar?” Carroll exclaimed.
“You two go on up,” Lepski said, and catching hold of Pierre’s arm, hurried him towards the bar.
This was the opportunity Claudette had been waiting for. As the two girls walked down the corridor to their rooms, she said, “Carroll, dear, that vanity box you have. I’m so envious! I want to persuade Pierre to buy me one just like yours.”
“You haven’t even seen the inside,” Carroll said, unlocking her bedroom door. “Come in. I’ll show it to you. It’s marvellous!”
They entered the room. Carroll went to a closet, opened it and took out the vanity box, set it on a table and unlocked it.
“Look! Isn’t it super?”
Claudette took her time. She encouraged Carroll to take out all the items, examining them while she gave little gasps of admiration until the box was empty. She then examined the interior, declaiming on the workmanship while Carroll, swelling with pride, watched her.
Claudette then closed the box and lifted it to admire the exterior, noting that there was at least three inches more on the outside than the inside.
“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, “but it is a little heavy.”
“Yes, but it’s so strong! Tom hates carrying it.”
Claudette laughed as she set the box down.
“Well, I wouldn’t. I must talk to Pierre.”
She watched while Carroll, with loving care, replaced all the items, watched as she locked the box, taking note of the key, then said, “Well, darling, have a rest. We’ll all meet in the lobby at eight o’clock. I do hope you have enjoyed your day.”
“It’s been truly wonderful! I can’t thank you both enough!” Carroll said. “You are perfect pets! You utterly spoil us. Now tonight. We insist that you be our guests. You have done so much for us... now, please...”
“Well, of course.” Claudette smiled. “But it is our pleasure. We are so happy to have found such good friends. All right, I will tell Pierre.”
Returning to her room, Claudette waited impatiently for Pierre who finally arrived an hour later, looking a little flushed.
“My God!” he exclaimed, holding his head. “How that man can drink! What news?”
“The box has a false bottom and it is heavy when empty. The icon must be in it.”
Claudette went on to explain her reasons while Pierre listened.
“The key?”
“It is nothing, a hairpin could turn the lock.”
Pierre drew in a long breath.
“Now we must think, sugar.”
“You think, my treasure, I am taking a shower. We have a long night before us.”
“And we have another six days. This mustn’t be rushed.”
“At least, they are paying tonight,” Claudette said as she began to undress.
After a splendid dinner at the Tour d’Argent, they all went to the Lido, that glamorous musical show on the Champs-Elysées.
Although Lepski was impressed with the magnificent view from the restaurant’s windows of the flood-lit Notre Dame, he proved difficult when Pierre proposed the famous pressed duck. Lepski said he didn’t dig fancy food, and he would have a steak.
“You will have nothing of the kind!” Carroll snapped. “You are in Paris, and you must take advantage of the beautiful food.”
“Can’t a guy eat what he likes?” Lepski grumbled.
“We will have the duck,” Carroll said firmly.
When the duck was served, Lepski tried it suspiciously, then declared, “This isn’t bad! Look, baby, you must try this when we get home.” He turned to Pierre, “Carroll is a marvellous cook.”
“Eat it and be quiet!” Carroll snapped.
Finally, the dinner finished, Lepski flicked his fingers for the check. He paled visibly when he saw what the dinner had cost, and paled again when he asked Pierre what tip he should leave. He counted out the French banknotes, muttering to himself, then with a croaking laugh, said to Pierre, “This little joint sure won’t go bankrupt,” and got a sharp kick on his shin from Carroll.
But the show girls at the Lido lifted his depression, and when they finally returned to the hotel, around 02.00, Lepski said it had been a great day.
“Tomorrow will be your last day in Paris,” Pierre said as they all went up in the elevator to their rooms. “I suggest we visit the Left Bank and take a walk around the old quarters. There is much of interest to see, then you must go to the Folies Bergère: more girls and a great show. I suggest we dine at the Grand Vefour, another of Paris’s greats. This will be on us, Tom.”