Chapter 3

Anna looked up at the Hotel de Fleurie. She double-checked the address - 32 Rue Gregoire de Tours. Just off the busy, high profile Boulevard Saint Germain, the Hotel de Fleurie was unexpectedly quaint and charming.

The front desk clerk greeted her with a smile. "Madame, welcome to the Hotel de Fleurie. I am Louis. How may I be of service?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Abelard. Is he registered here?"

"No, he is not."

"He must be. I received a package from him with this return address." Anna smiled. "It was a lovely gift and I wanted to thank him personally."

"Yes, I see. Monsieur Abelard picks up his mail here and he does use this address on parcels."

"I'm only in Paris for a few days and I would love to see him. Could you give me his home address or even a telephone number?"

"I am sorry, Madame. I do not have that information." Louis said. "We only hold the monsieur's mail until he comes to collect them each week."

"Has Monsieur Abelard come this week? If not, when would he come here to collect?"

"There is no set day, Madame." The clerk pointed to a small cubbyhole on the back wall. "I can say that he has not come this week because his mail is still here."

"Um, all right. Does the name Robert Scorpio seem familiar?"

"No, Madame."

"Perhaps a guest, a visitor."

"Scorpio? That is an unusual name. I have worked here nearly ten years. I do not recall it."

"What does Monsieur Abelard look like?" Anna pressed on tamping down her irritation.

"Madame, if this is an investigation, then please tell me. Criminal matters are taken - "

"Oh, no, no, Louis. This is personal." Anna said in all earnestness. "Any information would be helpful."

"The monsieur is not in any trouble? He is a good man."

"He is not in any trouble at all. I just really, really need to find Mr. Abelard."

Louis was thoughtful. "I may have a picture. Please wait here."

Anna paced the foyer barely containing her impatience. After several minutes the clerk returned with a photo album. He laid the album open on the counter.

"Some of Monsieur Abelard's friends had a birthday party for him in the lounge. His seventy-fifth birthday it was. Five years ago."

Anna recognized Abelard immediately. She peered closer scrutinizing those around him. She recognized one face - a face she knew as well as her own.

"It can't be ... how does he know Abelard?" Anna took a step back and breathed in deeply. She flexed her tight shoulders. "If he knew five years ago ... that ... that Robert was alive and didn't tell me. I'm going to -"

"Madame, are you ill?" Louis asked alarmed at the nearly palpable air of tension around Anna.

"I'm fine. Do you have a room available? Any room. I don't care."

###

Anna counted to fifty before dialing her cell phone. She mentally recited a few mantras designed to calm and clear the mind of any potential homicidal thoughts.

A groggy voice answered. "Donely here."

"Sean!"

"Anna? It's three in the morning. Call me in the office later. Goodbye."

"Wake up! I need your help."

Boston's police chief sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Next to him, Tiffany slept on. Sean often envied her ability to sleep through almost anything. "All right. I'm up. What's going on? Where are you?"

"I'm in Paris. What do you know about a man named Abelard?" Sean did not respond. "Sean? Still there?"

"Is this line secure?"

"Of course."

"Your location secure?"

"Yes. Triple checked."

Sean's voice was low and urgent. "Take my advice, Anna. Forget you ever heard the name. He doesn't exist."

"Five years ago he did. I just saw a picture of you at his birthday party at the Hotel de Fleurie."

"Damn. I'm going to have to report that to the bureau for cleanup."

"Who is he, Sean?"

"Why do you want to know? You can't be working a case on him."

"For goodness sake, you're as evasive as Robert. Can't you just TELL me?"

"What does Robert have to do with Abelard?" Tiffany began to stir. Sean rose from the bed and headed out the bedroom. "Anna, start from the top while I get some coffee."

Anna made herself comfortable on the sofa. "Yesterday, I was visiting Robert at Beauchel. He got a package from Abelard - a weekly care package. When I asked Robert who Abelard was, he got all twitchy. I traced the address. I'm at the Hotel de Fleurie now. It's a classic bureau fork-in-the-road mail drop designed to confuse and misdirect a would-be tracer. By sheer luck, I saw the photo and you in it."

"What did Robert say about Abelard?"

"That Abelard was a good and trusted friend."

Sean set the percolator on. "So, why don't you leave it at that? Hmm, why complicate things."

"Stop stalling and trying to divert me." Anna's ears strained to detect any clues of tone or pitch from Sean's voice.

"Anna, I'm not stalling. I just think ... you need to stay away from this. Besides, as of the last WSB reorganization, it's ancient history."

"If it didn't concern Robert, I would happily stay out of it." Anna bit her lip. "When Robert was ill, we came to realize that we'd wasted all this time. Secrets, conspiracies, over-developed sense of responsibility and guilt drove us apart time and again. Worse, we enabled these things to affect us. Well, no more. I vowed to have no more personal secrets between us."

"And Robert agreed to this?"

"Not exactly. He refuses to discuss his contract with the WSB in any great detail. He reveals only the most cursory information about his missions. Those things I can understand. But he won't tell me how he lived, where he lived. He says that he wants to forget that part of his life."

"If he was connected to Abelard, then I can see his point."

"Are you stonewalling me because you're hiding something? Did you know Robert was alive five years ago or before then?"

"No!" Sean said vehemently. "If I knew I would have told you. Why is it so important to you to know?"

"Every instinct is telling me to keep pushing. So, whether you tell me here and now or if I have to fly to Boston, it makes no difference."

Sean let out a long sigh. "Let me tell you a history lesson. In the first world war, intelligence networks were in its infancy. One of the most successful operatives on the Allied side was a man named Scarecrow. We don't know much about this individual only that his family paid the price for his success. He hunted down and executed the murderers of his family. He became a sophisticated hunter and killing machine. He disappeared after the war. Most assumed that he was dead. Scarecrow resurfaced as a WSB agent in the second world war. Eyewitness accounts say that it was the same man, same methods, same skills. It was later discovered that the first Scarecrow trained a protege to be an copy. The protege became the Scarecrow in every way - a complete identity. And the teacher took on the name and identity of Abelard. Their real identities were buried completely non-existent. Since then, there has been a succession of teachers and proteges with training and skills unique to them. Even in the higher ranks of the bureau they are referred to only by their codenames. Abelard and Scarecrow became the bureau's best kept secret fixers."

"Fixers?"

"They did it all - extortion, assassination, blackmail, kidnapping, corporate espionage, high stakes heists. Whatever it took to do the job with full carte blanche during an operation."

"Could Robert be Scarecrow?" Anna shut her eyes tight. The idea was appalling. She wondered if this was the price that Robert paid in exchange for their lives.

"I don't know, Anna. It's a moot point. In 2002, Abelard made it known that there would be no more Scarecrows."

"Just like that?"

"The bureau reorganized and terminated the Scarecrow Protocol. It's as if it never was."

"If the bureau had ended the program, then why the picture on Abelard's birthday?"

"I came to Paris in 2004 to consult with him on another matter. We met at the hotel. It happened to have been his birthday."

"How do I contact Abelard, Sean?" Anna said.

"Drop this, Anna."

"Donely Lesson #4 - Once on the trail, don't hesitate, follow through and make sure you're the one still standing at the end."

"Here I thought that maturity would have mellowed you out a little." Sean said. "Try the Galerie Motte et Douart on the Rue Mazarine. Ask for Heloise Garnier. And, Anna, be careful."

###

For a weekday the gallery held a good number of interested customers, casual browsers and the typical hangers-on that galleries attracted. Anna strolled through the Galerie Motte et Douart with one eye on the contemporary art adorning the walls and another on a petite, red haired woman who had been identified as Heloise Garnier by several customers. Heloise seemed a typical well-coiffed, superbly turned out Gallic businesswoman whose age was seemingly frozen between thirty-five and fifty. With its classical features, her face could have graced a sculptor's masterpiece.

On an impulse, Anna wrote the word 'Abelard' on a small comment card. She made her slow way to Heloise's side.

"Madame Garnier, could you take a look at this for me." said Anna in flawless French handing the card to the woman. Anna watched Heloise intently for any reaction as she took and read the card.

"This is very interesting." Heloise replied in slightly accented, but very educated English. Her eyes swept over Anna's face locking eyes for a mere second. Heloise began to walk slowly towards the back fo the gallery.

"I hope you are the correct recipient." Anna followed Heloise maintaining the conversation between them.

"Perhaps. Could you tell me, Madame, from whom you received this item and when?"

"Yesterday I spoke to a mutual friend Sean Donely. He thought you would be the best person to examine the item."

Heloise paused at a tall stone sculpture of a pagan god figure. She arranged the description card lying on top of the sculpture. "Of course, Sean. How is his family in California? Are the children well?"

Anna circled the sculpture feigning acute interest while saying, "Sean and his wife Tiffany find the weather abominable in Boston. Their young child is adorable."

"To whom should I send the evaluation to?"

"Anna Devane."

Unexpectedly, Heloise smiled brightly at her. "Robert's Anna I believe."

Anna grinned shyly. "I suppose that title fits as well as any other."

Heloise placed the comment card on the top of the sculpture. Heloise scribbled on the comment card. With one finger, she slid the card towards Anna. In a voice meant for Anna's ears only, she said, "Come to my home tonight at seven o'clock."

"I hope the evaluation answers some of my questions, Madame Garnier." Anna said.

"I believe I know what your expectations are. I will give this matter my personal attention. Please return tomorrow so I may provide a completed evaluation."

Anna nodded. "I'm looking forward to it. Thank you very much."