Chapitre Quatre
Still thinking about the woman in the car, Clark is a little bemused at himself for lingering
on the image of a passing stranger, so unlike him. Refocusing himself, Clark checks to
see if he has shed any likely tail. Certain that he has lost any immediate pursuit he turns
several corners until he is approaching the steps leading to a smart little restaurant
located on the dock side of Monte Carlo. There is a small marquee with the words
Bertani's Restaurant displayed in a faded purple script, over a much darker purple
awning. The owner, Bertani, was a compatriot with Clark during the war, and may be
able to help him.
Clark descends the steps into the garden section of the restaurant. It is mid-day, and
several groups of 5 and 6 customers are arriving for luncheon. The restaurant has an
array of well-appointed tables which suggests that this restaurant has some special
quality. There are plenty of waiters, and the clientele are of the well-to-do and
fashionable set. Kent approaches the garden entrance to the restaurant.
Kent enters behind a large group of people, smiling and blending in with the lively
conversation, as they wait for a table. The headwaiter motions the group forward to a
table, leaving Kent alone, looking out of place at the entrance. His country clothes
contrast sharply with the sophisticated atmosphere.
At a nearby table, the wine waiter is uncorking a bottle of champagne for a couple. He
looks up, as he turns the cork. A slightly startled look comes into his face as he sees
Kent. At this moment, the cork pops. He continues to stare at Kent, not believing his
eyes. He's not paying attention to the champagnes until the foam spills out of the neck
of the bottle over his hands.
Kent gives him a faint smile and a slight admonishing shake of the head, as though to
say 'watch what you're doing'. The waiter quickly recovers, and turns to his customers
with a smile, offering them an apology. A busboy hurries up with a napkin to dry the
bottle and the waiter's hands.
Turning from the waiter, Clark scans the restaurant, looking for someone. Suddenly he
sees Bertani, the restaurant owner. Instead of approaching the older man, Clark give
him a meaningful look. Having caught Bertani's eye, he moves toward the back of the
restaurant. Bertani's eyes turn for a moment to follow Kent.
At the back of the restaurant, in a small, frost-glass enclosed counter, sits the cashier,
Antoinette. She has little to do at the moment as there are no customers that are close to
finishing their meals. With a look of recognition, and slight alarm, she watches Kent walk
past her and continue into the glass-enclosed office behind her desk.
The office Kent enters is about twelve feet square, with windows that look out to the
kitchen, and toward the cashier's stand which is outside the left wall. There is an open
doorway leading to the cashier's stand. Beyond the cashier is the central room of the
restaurant, which now dark in the daytime, and beyond that is the outside garden
restaurant, currently very crowded and busy. At this distance the patron's conversations
are a muted cacophony.
One side of the office is a large wood and glass partition, beyond which is the kitchen.
Kent looks casually out the glass partition toward the kitchen, his mind occupied with his
immediate problem. Are the police after him because they believe he is again active as
the Le Chat, or has he been framed for some other crime? Despite having enjoyed more
than 8 years as a 'civilian' he still is wary of the authority's tolerance for his past
indiscretions.
Just then he notices that one of the chefs is staring at him with a hostile expression. The
man immediately turns and starts to move along side the other chefs and kitchen
workers. He stops to whisper something to each one. As they listen to what he says
they half turn and look toward Kent. Then they turn back to resume their tasks.
As Kent is watching the first chef a fresh egg smashes against the glass right over his
face. The yellow goo runs down the glass in front of his face. He moves slowly away,
with a grim smile on his face.
No one seems to be paying any attention. He isn't certain who threw the egg. The busy
kitchen activities continue as though nothing had happened.
Just then Bertani enters. He is a heavy-set, dapper man of about 55, with surprisingly
small, quick feet. Kent recalls that he is a very good foxtrot dancer. Beneath Bertani's
carefully chosen wardrobe, and a professional air that is over-friendly and slightly comic,
his strength as a leader of men is still evident. He quickly appraises Kent still clothed in
his gardening clothes, as compared this his more dressy style when he is out and about,
and says, "Left in a hurry, did you Clark?"
"They came for me an hour ago."
"The police?"
"Five of them."
"Very flattering. Five, you say."
Bertani strolls-to a wall mirror, checks his tie and adjusts the hang of his coat. "You
know, they sent only four to arrest Bluebeard," a small smile at his lips.
"And he was guilty."
"And naturally, Clark, you are innocent."
"I haven't stolen a piece of jewelry in nine years!"
Bertani turns from the mirror, reacts with a smile, saying, "Ah—honesty."
"It has a good feeling, no?"
Bertani casts a look toward his kitchen, So, what do you think of my kitchen? Works like
a well-oiled machine, yes?"
"Bertani…, " Clark impatiently starts to interrupt.
Bertani turns and hold up his hand, "Just like our little band in the Resistance—cutting,
slicing —but not good meat, like this."
"Can we get down to business?"
Bertani strolls to his desk, looks over a menu as he asked, "The recent jewel robberies.
Entre nous, what do you know about them?"
"Only what I read in the papers."
"But yet you run from the police?"
"The guilty have no monopoly on running. I needed time —and distance. I don't need
some politician or bureaucrat to decide that they can best run for office by claiming to
clean the streets of riff-raff like me," Kent said, smiling ruefully. "Or, worse yet, some fool
jailer just leaves me to rot in a dungeon for years while they decide what crime I can still
be prosecuted for.
Bertani pauses thoughtfully before saying, "Coincidence can be terrible. All these
robberies bear your mark—but you claim to be innocent." He says with a slightly
skeptical tone.
Kent's face hardens a little, along with his response, "I do more than claim, Bertani—I
offer my word."
"Naturally —and I respect what you only give in sincerity. But let's be candid with each
other. What do you need now, an alibi for the time of each robbery?"
Clark shoots him a fleeting, unfriendly look, quickly replaced by a casual smile, "No…But
I do thank you, my dear Bertani. You've been most unkind. If I'm ever hungry, I'll eat
someplace else."
He starts for the door. Bertani quickly moves around the desk and intercepts him with a
conciliatory look. He gives Kent the beginnings of a warm smile. "I felt the good thing in
here... (He taps his chest) but said the bad thing. "
Just then Antoinette taps the window with her nail to get Bertani's attention. When
Bertani opens the door Antoinette hands him a document to sign.
While waiting Clark turns his back on Betrani and looks into the kitchen. Beyond the egg-
splattered glass partition, a couple of the kitchen workers are looking toward the office.
They are La Mule, the dishwasher, and one of the chefs. Both men have unfriendly
faces.
Clark looks at them with a challenging smile, as if to say 'how may I help you?' Bertani's
voice breaks in, causing him to turn around. "What can I do for you, Clark?
"All I want is someone to look after my villa—pay Germaine and the gardener once a
month, makes sure the six families I help continue to get support, which would come
from the proceeds of the villa's grapes and flowers. And, once in a while play with the
cat."
Bertani makes a gesture with his hands to indicate that the request is so simple that.
Clark should never have worried about it, and says, "Simple…done."
Clark says, "If there's any money left—put it in the bank under another name. Well, the
flics might show up here any minute—".
Bertani interrupts with a concerned look on his face, " And now—you need clothes and
money?
"I'm well supplied, thanks, "said as he moves a little toward the door.
Bertani stops him. "Clark why don't you take my boat and go to the islands, it is a
beautiful time of the year there."
"I'm thinking of going home to America, " said with a smile.
"—could you live without French cooking?"
"I'll have to struggle along on hamburgers and malts," Kent says.
As Bertani pretends to hold his stomach in pain, making a disgusted face, he says, "No,
this is a gastronomic abomination, it is better that I hide you.
Clark smiles and shakes his head no, insisting, "On to America. If my luck holds out."
"And if it does not my friend, then what," said as he looks at the younger man?
"Well Bertani, you and the kitchen boys will have won a beautiful, but heavily mortgaged
villa."
As Clark says these words an expression of deep pain and concern comes over
Bertani's face. As he goes to the window facing the kitchen he sees the egg splatter, and
then quickly looks around the mess into the kitchen.
He looks intently at the dishwasher, and two of the other kitchen helpers, who have been
staring at Kent. When they see him staring at them they self-consciously turn back to
their jobs.
Just as Bertani turns to ask a Kent question, Antoinette taps on the door. She opens it,
and, then whispers something urgently to him, as she points out toward the restaurant:
Monsieur Bertani! Les clients attendent pour avoir des tables!
"Excuse me, Clark. Business calls—the happy sound of money. I'll return shortly." He
says, leaving the office.
Clark stands in the doorway of the kitchen, the office behind him. His body stance and
attitude clearly indicate that he is not in the least intimidated by the hostility of the kitchen
help. His attention is drawn to the same wine waiter that spilled the champagne when
Kent entered the restaurant. The waiter is coming up the cellar stairs carrying a couple
of bottles of wine. He limps slightly. As he approaches Kent says, "Bonjour, Foussard."
Foussard gives him a cold stare and passes Kent without responding. As Kent turns to
look after he sees one of the vegetable chef looking at him menacingly as he violently
twists the tops of a bunch of carrots, as he might someone's neck.
Kent grins at the chef. Then, from the other end of the kitchen he hears his name called,
"Allez-vous en, Kent!
At the dishwashing sinks, full of soapy water, with steam rising from them, stands a hairy
mountain of a man. They call him La Mule. Kent sees the man looking at him with pure
hatred.
At the sound of La Mule's voice ordering Kent out of the kitchen, the place falls quiet.
Work is forgotten as the chefs and their helpers turn to look at Kent. Foussard stands
nearby watching, his customers unattended. One of them is Lana, who has now turned
away from the meal she is eating with her Aunt Nell and an American multi-millionaire
Nell has introduced to Lana, as potential husband material She seems less
interested in the man across the table from her than she is in the man in the kitchen..
A door to the kitchen that is usually closed has been left opened, allowing Lana a partial
view of Kent. Lana sees Kent stands his ground, left foot forward, seeming ready to go
into a fighter stance if necessary. He keeps his eyes on the dishwasher. La Mule
carefully wipes his hands on his apron, massive forearms flexing. He picks up a plate
and smashes it in half against the sinks, and advances on Kent with the jagged half of
the plate held threateningly in his right hand.
Seeing this Lana rises from her chair, about to ask male companion to intervene,
thinking someone will soon be hurt.
Kent doesn't move, his face appears calm, but the eyes are flitting over the scene,
calculating alternatives as he guardedly watches La Mule.
La Mule, coming slowly, his eyes rolling wildly, advancing threateningly toward Kent.
Kent's eyes dart down for a moment and his hand slides behind him picking up one of
the two bottles of wine just deposited there by Foussard, the wine waiter. With startling
speed his hand comes forward, whipping the bottle toward the oncoming dishwasher. Li
Mule's instinctive reaction is to drop the broken half of the plate, and catch the bottle of
wine in both hands to prevent it smashing into his face.
The kitchen workers, despite their allegiance to the dishwasher, burst into sudden
laughter at seeing La Mule so neatly disarmed and his menacing attitude turned into
confusion as he grasps the bottle.
The laughter seems to increase Li Mule's rage. He grips the neck of the wine bottle and
advances farther toward Kent. Suddenly, the authoritative voice of Bertani is heard
telling him to quickly put the bottle away, "La Mule! Pose cette bouteille et retourne a to
vaisselle! En vitesse, hein!
Still standing, napkin in her hand, Lana marvels at how Kent has defused what appeared
to be a potentially violent scene with some bottle juggling worthy of a circus performer.
Maybe he is more than a pretty boy
"Lana, do please sit down, won't you, " implores Nell, gesturing to the seat.
Kent has turned as Bertani beckons him back into the office. As Kent starts to go, he
sees out of the corner of his eye that the woman in the car is dining here. And that she
had apparently been looking at him, perhaps she had seen what just occurred. He feels
unaccountably awkward about her witnessing this little fracas, it seems so crass to him.
As an unspoken apology he offers her a small smile. She seems to return it as the
corners of her mouth gently rise a little, holding his glance a few moments. She then
turns back to her fellow dinners.
Kent quickly turns to give one more glance at La Mule, and then as a parting shot, picks
up a glass and tosses it to La Mule, who catches the glass in his other hand. There are a
few more laughs from the kitchen hands. As La Mule turns angrily away, the rest of the
kitchen hands go back to their work.
Shrugging, Kent says to Bertrani "Even they think I'm operating again."
"Well—once they were all in prison with you—so the police think..."
"Don't tell me. "One bad apple spoils the barrel, and I'm the rotten apple."
Bertani nods and says, "But since the Resistance, I have required that all these men be
honest. I have beat honesty into their skulls—I did not want them to break their paroles
and return to prison.
Kent responds, "Listen, if my parole is broken, they'll throw the key away. "
"Remember, Kent—some of them have families to think of now."
Kent looks out to the kitchen and says, "I wouldn't put it past any one of them to be doing
the robberies themselves."
Bertani laughs, "Simple men—without education? No, I don't think so, Kent. They might
kill somebody in the dark, but steal jewels, not this lot. Not a single one of them has a
pinky's worth of your finesse."
"Thanks, I think. With them eliminated, by your own account, that would seem to leave
you, my very good friend, as a likely candidate," said as he stared into Bertrani's eyes.
Bertani bubbles with good humor as he checks himself in his wall mirror again, patting
already neat hair in place
"I have this restaurant, that's enough. And I can't even climb a ladder now without many
aches and pains visiting me. He turns back to Clark. There is a look of concern on his
face. "Perhaps you were right to flee. It's time to go if the flics come."
Clark is listening to Bertrani while he is trying to understand how this thief can imitate
him so perfectly. "This has to be somebody who knew every detail of my technique.
Maybe a member of the police."
Bertani chuckles at the thought, "Ah—voila! Now that would be a novelty."
"This false Cat picks the perfect victims—only the right stones—he goes up walls, over
roofs, down through skylights— dresses in black—leaves no clues, no one hurt, no fuss,
and disappears in the night."
"Just like Monsieur Clark Kent, The Cat, " said with a whimsical smile,
Clearly annoyed, Kent says, "So, you don't believe me any more than the rest of them."
He starts pacing, deep in thought. "This fake is so faultless at imitating The Cat that I
sometimes wake up thinking I might have done the jobs myself," he says bitterly. "And I
don't like running, hiding and leaving a trail of doubt in everybody's mind."
"I shall defend you when I can."
"Bertani—the only true defenses a man has are his own actions." Clark continues
pacing, in the small office, looking increasing like his feline name sake. His every motion
one of contained, sinuous power, held in check, but ready when needed.
"Clark, sometimes a fellow must run," Bertani says sincerely, concerned for Kent's
safety. He looks off nervously out toward the restaurant. "The police—could be on to you
at any moment."
"If somebody caught this—imitator, we'd all, well…I would be off the hook, " said as the
first genuine, dimple-producing smile appears since he has entered the restaurant. Well,
there was the one smile he offered the lady in the car. "Nobody believes me—and the
police are chasing the wrong man. Someone's got to start chasing the right one."
"Could you do more than the police?"
"The police always get to the scene of a job after it happens. They'll never catch this kind
of a thief that way."
"How could you move around the Cote d'Azur?—They're all looking for you."
"They were looking for me in Paris 8 years ago and I gave them a pretty good chase, "
Clark says with a small note of pride in his voice.
"One day you'll make a mistake."
Clark shakes his head, "I only made one mistake. If this fake Cat knows so much about
me, he won't repeat it—there's only one answer. I've got to find this imitator myself—and
there's only one way. Anticipate his moves. Get there ahead of him, and then catch him
with his hand in somebody's jewel case.
Kent paces, his lithe, powerful strides eating up the space. Bertani who is watching his
coming and going with the fascination one would have seeing a caged panther.
Bertrani says, "Suppose they catch you—and the robberies continue? "
Kent thinks for a moment and says, "That probably won't happen. If I am caught
the imitator will stop stealing—and they never look for the fake, they think they have the
real thief, Le Chat. Which, unfortunately is me."
Kent moves away, around the room, as Bertani's eyes follow him.
"The biggest problem is time. I've got to hit this copy-cat, " smiling slightly at the
unintentional pun, " before he knows I'm after him." He continues pacing back and forth
as he thinks.
Clark suddenly stops and says, "To catch him in the act. I need better information than
he has. The kind it takes months. to dig out."
Bertrani adds, "And—who has jewelry that deserves to be stolen?" "I know that you used
to target only those of the wealthy that could afford the loss, and who had in some way
contributed to the world's misery. Kind of a symbolic pay back, eh? Is this still your
preferred method," looking curiously at Clark, waiting for his answer.
"Yes, my friend, that has not changed. I do not…did not…steal from the gentler souls,
only those with some tarnish on them, you know, the ones with a dark history, "a
meaningful smile offered to Bertrani.
"Now, what other information would I need," Clark quickly says, "where they live, which
room they keep the stones in, and what time they usually go to sleep, how much they
drink, whether they have dogs, guns, servants, insurance— and more detail if possible."
He walks away from Betrani, stops momentarily, then turns back, continuing his pacing.
During this, Bertani has seated himself, and put his feet up on his desk. He opens the
top drawer of his large desk, and begins to rummage through it, a thoughtful look on his
face. He soon finds what he is looking for. He takes out a visiting card, studies it.
"You made me remember a man who came into my restaurant two days ago, "said as he
smiles at Kent "I didn't like him very much."
"Why?"
"He called me to his table; he asked me about crime and criminals. Me! A respectable,
honest, restaurateur!
Clark smiles at him and says, "see what happens when your past catches up with you,
Bertani?"
"This man asked me all these probing questions, I refused to answer any of them. But
then, he offered—" His speech is broken by a sharp tap at the door.
Antoinette is opening the door. Bertani turns in his chair.
''Monsieur Bertani, le Commissaire Lepic est dehors, dans le jardin! ''
"The flics, " Clark says as he immediately moves toward the kitchen side of the office,
placing himself out of sight of the restaurant.
Bertani rises quickly and looks out into restaurant. In the distant garden, he can just see
Chief Inspector Lepic talking to the headwaiter. His assistant, Mercier looks unhappy as
he scans the restaurant and the customers.
Foussard, the wine steward, quickly comes into the kitchen, going from the chef to the
dishwasher, whispering to them that the police are on the premises. They all exchange
concerned looks.
Bertani turns from the doorway to the restaurant. He goes past Kent and opens the
kitchen door. He sees the alarm among the kitchen hands, he then gestures for
Foussard to come to him.
He turns to Foussard as the wine steward arrives and then begins speaking, "Non, mais
je ne veux pas qu'elle soit melée à— "
Bertani interrupts impatiently, ''Tu preferes sans doute passer la nuit en prison? Yes,
you need to do it or you could be in prison tonight, ''switching to English in frustration,
although Foussard understands very little English he gets the point.
There is no answer from Foussard.
Bertrani turns to Kent. "Foussard's daughter will take you out of here by boat. "
"Where? "
"The Beach Club in Cannes. Wait for a phone call there."
Kent nods, with a quick hand shake and follows Foussard out a back exit.
In the front of the restaurant Lepic is approaching the desk of Antoinette. Just as he
does, about to ask her a question Bertani walks up to him and engages Lepic in
animated conversation. While their conversation cannot be heard from a distance it is
clear that Bertani is protesting the disruption of Lepic and the other flics barging into this
respectable establishment.
Just below where this conversation is going on, with Lepic patiently listening to Bertrani's
concerns, is the wine cellar. Sitting atop a short ladder, is Foussard's daughter,
Loilan. She is checking the current supply of wines against the inventory list, in
preparation for placing a new order. As she looks closely at some of the bottle labels,
clinking them together as she reads the type of wine. She turns as she hears her
father and Kent coming down the stairs from the kitchen.
Loilan is surprised when she sees Kent. She doesn't move off the ladder, but looks
slightly down into his eyes. She is a young French woman of perhaps twenty–four years,
with a curious and attractive face framed by dark, shoulder length hair. Her light summer
dress does not hide her voluptuous curves, nor part of her thigh revealed by her stance
on the ladder. While her dress is not expensive it expresses the definite taste of its
owner. She is clearly not one of Bertani's regular employees.
As the two men approach her, Kent smiles at her, but does not glance at her revealed
thigh, making no comment. She steps down off the ladder, holding her skirt against her
leg. She watches her father, who quickly says, "Les flics viennent de s'amener (Nodding
to Kent)...Ils recherchent Monsieur Kent.
Foussard tells her that Bertani wants her to ''…veut que tu is conduises en canot
jusqu'au Beach Club." That she must get him to safety.
She turns a puzzled face to Kent, who waits, a friendly but noncommittal took on his
face.
She looks back to her father, as if to say, "Are you serious?" Foussard seems to take his
annoyance with Kent out on his daughter, telling her to do what he says, to get Kent
away from here, now. ''Dépêche-toi!''
Loilan shrugs lightly, then softens and smiles at her father, with a side long glance at
Kent. Then she hugs her father affectionately around the shoulders with one arm. They
exchange glances that show their fondness for each other. Loilan looks at Kent briefly
again, then turns and moves toward the back of the cellar, glancing over her shoulder to
say, "Okay. Let's go, Mister Cat."
Kent moves quickly after her, "Do me a favor, Loilan. Don't call me a cat."
Without turning, or stopping, she answers him, "I only do one favor a day."
She swings open a low door at the far end of the cellar. Strong daylight floods in. Both of
them know that just a short distance beyond the restaurant is the sun-soaked
Mediterranean, where many people are now relaxing on the beaches.
By now, Kent has reached Loilan. He gently takes her by the shoulder, and turns her
around to face him. Her face is attentive, her eyes looking into his, but otherwise
showing no emotion.
"Look—if you don't want to do this..."
She slowly lowers her shoulder to get it out from under his hand, swiveling her hips in a
provocative way. She looks at him innocently, a smile starting on her lips.
"Did I brush your fur the wrong way?