Chapter 61

 

As before, Frank followed at a short distance behind Anton as they made their way from the train station. He hoped for a brief glimpse of the Mediterranean but the area where they walked was packed with unimaginative blocky buildings, mostly white with red-tile roofs. After walking about fifteen minutes, they came to a three-story apartment building. Anton held the outer door for Frank, as any polite neighbor would do, and Frank preceded him into an empty vestibule. Once Anton was satisfied no one would overhear, he spoke. “Number 301.”

Frank pretended to consult the mailboxes on the wall while Anton started up a narrow flight of stairs.

“Is this your place?” Frank asked once the two of them were inside with the door closed.

Anton gave one of his customary down-the-nose looks. “Something like that.”

Geez, Frank thought, a little friendliness wouldn’t kill you. The apartment was furnished minimally with modern chrome and leather furniture, a black furry-looking rug over the scuffed wood floor, a kitchen with downsized, basic appliances.

As if Anton had read his mind, he relented slightly. “Sorry. It’s only that I have bigger things on my mind right now.”

Bigger than a million dollar piece of jewelry? Hmm … Now that might be worth knowing.

“The gem show?”

“You know of it?” Anton almost covered his surprise but not quite.

Frank prided himself on being observant, and the headline on the business page of a newspaper he’d seen someone reading on the train had not escaped his attention. “Everyone knows about it,” he answered with his own hint of haughty one-upmanship.

“Then you know it will be the most closely guarded exhibition of the year. Police and electronic surveillance will be at an all-time high alert status.”

“Naturally.” Frank wasn’t sure where this was going. All he wanted was to sell the piece that was increasingly making his belly itch.

“The Pink Panthers plan to rob the place blind.”

What? Frank turned toward a chrome-and-glass shelf that held a few books with French titles, magazines about architecture and a few cheap vases and knick-knacks. Gave himself a moment to consider Anton’s statement. He’d heard of the Pink Panthers, of course. Most thought of either a cartoon character or a Peter Sellers film. So, there truly was a jewel theft gang by that name. By the time he turned where Anton could see his face again, his sophisticated expression was back in place.

“How will they get away with it?” he asked.

“They won’t. The Golden Tigers will be there first.”

All these gangs with their pretentious names. Frank’s mind flitted through the possibilities. What could he get for himself here? With the Russian piece as his ticket, he might persuade the big guys to take him seriously, let him in on the deal, turn the present three-fifty into multi-millions. He felt his pulse quicken.

“You cannot be seen with me, you know,” Anton was saying. “If the Tigers see you, it’s quite possible you and the necklace you carry will become a target.”

Frank considered this while Anton went to the kitchen and turned on a burner under a kettle, offering coffee. His necklace making him a target with one of the jewel theft rings? It didn’t quite add up. Then again, a niggling feeling told him he was out of his league with these guys and anything could happen.

Always dream big, Frankie. His father’s voice came back to him.

“Sure, coffee would be great,” he said, settling into character. If he could be an inside stock trader on Grand Cayman, he could just as easily become a sophisticated international jewel thief here on the Côte d’Azur.