Wednesday 1300 Paris
(1200 London, 0700 Washington)
Ellen saw Gerard Astier, the U.S. French-based agent, in her peripheral vision. She could see he too was on high alert, watching every movement. Ellen counted twelve tour groups that had come and gone. Acting as one of the curators, she answered a thousand questions shamelessly making up what she didn’t know. She kept moving to take in all aspects of the room.
Ellen watched the security guards swap over for their lunch break at one p.m. The head of security, Revault, came to check on progress. Abrupt and distracted, he suggested Ellen take a break.
“Thanks, Gilles, but this is one day where I intend to stay put, even if it means concentrating for nine hours straight.” She sighed with frustration. “We’ve been here half the day and nothing yet. The tension is killing me.”
“I understand. It is difficult to maintain security in a building that was not designed to be a museum,” Revault shook his head as he took in the surrounds of the eight hundred-year-old palace.
“I can’t begin to imagine,” Ellen agreed answering him in French.
“We house over thirty-two thousand works of art here,” he continued, “in over sixty thousand square meters of space – and you know, more than five million people come through here in one year. We’re still recovering from the criticism we received when Carot’s painting was stolen nearly eight years ago – and that was exhibited in a room with protective glass and video cameras!”
“How did they do it?”
“They cut the painting out of the frame with a razor blade.”
“It must be twice as hard for these temporary exhibitions,” Ellen said nodding towards the Fabergé collection.
“Exactly,” he said. “I would prefer not to have them, but we can’t profess to be a contemporary, international museum if we cannot display significant pieces. A few years ago we appointed a security company to revise all of our security at great expense. Now, we’ve got eight hundred video surveillance cameras and over fifteen hundred intrusion alarm points. Still, it is not enough and the staff complain that they are stretched trying to secure too large an area each. Excuse me,” he said distracted by a tourist with a flash camera.
Ellen found no comfort in the Head of Security’s words; her senses were sharpened to overload. Even the flash of a camera, which was banned, triggered an alert state in her. She turned to see what the fuss was about as security made it known that flash cameras were not to be used. Ellen felt a rush of panic and excitement. I have to get this right, she thought. I need a win on the board. After the breakdown in the mines, I’ve got to prove to Mitch that I can be counted on.
Ellen gasped. She saw it! She almost couldn’t believe it.
As a large tour group moved away, another camera flash went off. The second security guard on the floor called out that flashes were banned and all eyes turned towards the elderly couple in question. That’s when Ellen turned back from the scene of the flash to look at the Fabergé Eggs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the security guard, who had stepped in during the lunch break, swipe his access pass across the alarmed glass box, shutting down the alarm. In a matter of seconds, he opened the glass door, removed a Fabergé Egg from the shelf in front of him and replaced it with a perfect replica, pocketing the original, fragile miniature egg into his jacket pocket. He closed the glass, swiped the card and reactivated the alarm. He looked around, thinking he had got away with it and nodded to the other guard who was continuing to distract crowds by arguing with the elderly couple with the flash camera. Ellen noticed all eyes were turned to the elderly couple who were complaining that they were told they could take photos.
Ellen was stunned – it was perfect in its simplicity. Frighteningly easy for the security guard. She glanced towards the security cameras; they were pivoting, yet to make their return cycle to the glass cases that housed the eggs.
Given that two camera flashes had gone off now, one earlier, has the security guard substituted two eggs? He still has over thirty minutes before the original guard returns from lunch, is he going to do more?
Ellen debated what to do. Do I let them finish the swap … I don’t want to risk letting it get out of hand. She looked around. The other security guard is obviously in on it to create the diversion. Are the people with the cameras as well? Revault will be disappointed it’s an inside job. Ellen waited thinking through the process, not letting the substitute guard out of her sight. She needed to catch him with the eggs in his jacket.
This is unbelievable!
She caught Gerard Astier’s eye and nodded, giving him the sign that the action had taken place. His eyes grew huge for a moment then he went poker faced. The accomplice guard was pacing, his back to Ellen. She indicated him with her eyes and the other guard behind her with the Fabergé Egg in his jacket. She patted her jacket pocket once as a sign. Astier nodded. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask should he intercept now. Ellen nodded, she wanted to contain this while she felt confident that she had the upper hand and she wanted to avoid drawing weapons and damaging the gallery in any way. She waited while Astier went about his business.
Outside, Astier halted a tour group from going into the room. He placed an officer at the entrance to hold back the public and dispersed four of his own team to wait outside the room’s two entrances for his signal. He sent another two plain-clothed officers into the room to take up the boundaries. He looked around, satisfied everyone was in place and bracing himself, Astier re-entered the room.
Ellen saw Astier enter and walk towards her. He waved to the two suspect guards as though nothing out of the usual was happening. With a brief nod to the officer in the wings behind the security guard, the room erupted with noise.
Ellen felt her heart pounding.
She saw the flash of guns. Heard the shouting as manpower invaded the room.
Behind Astier, two more officers pounded in from the entrances and sealed the room. People strained to see what was going on. The two security guards were forced to their knees, weapons removed. There was no return fire, no struggle. Astier came close to Ellen.
“I don’t know if it’s just the two of them,” Ellen said. “They created a diversion and swapped the eggs. There were several people with cameras who used flashes; they might be involved.”
Astier called over two of his officers and ordered them to lock down the Richelieu wing. No one was to go in or out. He radioed Revault, to seal the entrances. The officers opened the doors and burst out into the waiting crowds, securing the area. Ellen could hear loud voices telling the public to remain calm. Astier and Ellen walked towards the guard. Revault was let in through one of the entrances.
“The honor is yours,” Astier said to Ellen.
With a smile, she reached into the security guard’s jacket and carefully removed two eggs, one at a time from each side of his large jacket. Revault could not accept it.
“Francois!” he exclaimed looking at his staff member amazed.
Francois scowled.
“Oh, my God,” Revault continued in French, taking the two eggs. He glanced at the first one, no more than five inches high and covered in a multitude of pearls. “The Lilies of the Valley Egg. This was presented to Czar Nicholas II in 1898,” he muttered in shock, “and the Coronation Egg,” Revault moaned, gazing at the translucent yellow egg. He looked inside and breathed a sigh of relief on seeing the miniature coronation coach intact. “It was presented in 1897 by Czar Nicholas II to his wife Alexandra Feodorovna,” he told Ellen, turning both eggs around looking for damage.
“It was an uncomplicated plot by trusted people,” Ellen consoled Revault in French.
“But not quite good enough,” Astier smiled. “Is that it?”
Ellen gently patted down the guard’s jacket, it was empty.
“Hang on,” Astier said. He frisked the other guard. A smile swept over his face as he removed another two from him.
“Four in total,” she said. “I suspect those two are fakes that had not yet been swapped.”
Two of the officers who were searching the room for bombs, joined Astier.
“All clear, sir,” one of them pronounced.
“Good; help Chassat and Briard outside. We need to speak to anyone who used a flash in here in the last hour,” Astier ordered.
The two men hurried from the room. Ellen could see the officer speaking with an agitated elderly couple.
“We’ll never be trusted again,” Revault continued talking to himself and holding the two eggs.
“I suggest, given the workmanship on the replicas, that you get all the collection authenticated again,” Ellen said to Revault as she studied the four eggs.
He nodded, still in shock.
Officer Chassat entered the room.
“Sir,” he said in French, “the older couple with the camera said they were told they could use a flash in the Richelieu wing by the security guard outside the door.
“Thank you Officer, detain them for a minute. We may need them to identify the guard who gave them permission.”
“It was a female guard sir.”
“The only female guard in this area is Ami Porte,” Revault stepped in. He hurried to the door. There was no guard there now. Using his intercom he called down to the entrances to detain Ami Porte if she is seen. Within fifteen minutes, Revault’s security team radioed they had found her at the main entrance to the Louvre, trying to leave via the courtyard of the Pyramid, Cour Napoleon. Astier sent an officer down to interrogate her. Thirty minutes later it was confirmed that there were three Louvre guards involved. Astier departed to oversee the removal of the arrested guards.
Ellen waited with Revault as he called the exhibition curator to remove the eggs for authenticity testing. He ordered a sign to be placed in front of the area apologizing for the temporary removal of the exhibition.
“There is one thing I don’t understand,” Ellen address Revault in French. “Why didn’t they attempt this at night when no one was around? Surely it would be easier.”
“No, at night the collection is put in a vault which they can’t access. The guards only get access to certain areas within their patrol zones. It’s another one of our safety initiatives. These men have been working on exhibitions for years, that’s why their cards could disarm the alarms in that area,” he said in a flat voice.
Ellen nodded her understanding. Revault turned away.
Twenty minutes later, Astier returned. “They removed the tape from the security cameras before doing the job. They thought of everything.”
“They had access to everything in this area,” Ellen looked around.
“I believe I owe you a drink Mademoiselle Ellen. Champagne?”
“Champagne would be wonderful,” Ellen exclaimed.
“I’ll just see my officers out,” he said.
Ellen nodded. Walking out of the Pyramid entrance to the Louvre, she felt the relief coursing through her. She rang Mitch.
Mitch’s phone rang. Recognizing Ellen’s number, he nearly dropped it in his haste to answer.
“Ellie?”
“Mitch, we’ve done it!”
Mitch exhaled with relief. He realized he had stopped breathing when the phone rang. He turned to give Nick the thumbs up sign. Ellen told him everything.
“Beautiful,” Mitch exclaimed. “I can’t believe it was that easy and they almost got away with it.”
“I know; security here is a bit of a sore point,” Ellen told him. “And as they were staff and had been for some time, they weren’t subject to the same security checks that the public were. They could swan in and out of here and no one was any the wiser. We came so close to not seeing it happen, it was so subtle.”
“How many did they swap?” Mitch asked
“They were going for four, I only saw two swapped. They’re testing them all now. Those four alone are priceless,” Ellen said. “I wish we were able to get Lawrence’s director as well.”
“We’ll get him soon enough. He’ll be flying back before you, I imagine. Ellie, you’ve done a great job.”
“Can I get John to book me on a flight to London tonight?”
“I thought you were keen to have a break from us?”
“I never said that.”
“I know. I kind of sensed you needed some breathing space. Glad you want to come back. Call John, a flight tonight or tomorrow morning is fine … we’re not operating until eleven tomorrow evening. Go out and do some sightseeing.”
“I’m being taken out for champagne, real French champagne, by Gerard.”
“Is that so,” Mitch teased, “I’d better not tell Nick that; he’d be over there like a shot to escort you back.”
“Really?” she laughed pleased.
“Ellie, well done, I’ll let John know you have wrapped it up. Go have some fun.” Mitch hung up. He looked over at Nick who was looking worried.
“She’s not going out with a Frog, is she?” he asked.
“No, having champagne to celebrate with the American agent on the ground, although … with a name like Astier …”
“Hmm. What happened?”
Mitch glanced at his watch. “It was the security guards. I’ll fill you in … just give me a sec, I’ve just got to call Sam. Let’s see … should be nearly nine in the morning in D.C.” Biting his bottom lip, he dialed her number. “Well that’s one down – two to go.”
“Worried?” Nick asked.
“Yeah,” Mitch frowned. “I feel like the D.C. Mastermind is slipping through my fingers.”