A/N: One of those 'tying it up' chapters. When you see the little break '000" is where things heat up, if you'd rather not partake...
Chapter Thirty-six: Answers
Chase Kennard climbed out of a cab along the street. There was a hint of tiredness to his smile. "We got Sterns."
"He was alone?" Martin asked.
Chase tipped his hat to Emily. "We are only missing Annie and Ned. Whoever they tossed their luck in with has probably taken them out of Paris."
"Or not," Martin grumbled. "The Louvre?"
"We doubled the security. Henri talked the Sûreté into having some gents disguised and posted along the streets. No one heard or saw anything."
"So they say."
Chase sat a booted foot along the edge of the boat. "You know different?"
"If someone orchestrated all this, they wouldn't just roll up to the museum in that coach. You know as well as I do that a successful thief watches the area before they make their move. We've probably warned them off."
"Be that as it may, we'll keep an eye on the building. They will get tired after a while." He grinned at Emily. "Can I take you to dinner, Ma'mselle?"
Emily got to her feet with a smile. "Let me just get my bag."
As she disappeared into the cabin, Chase turned to Martin. "As you say, we will keep watch. Any idea as to what they are after?"
Martin let slip one of his rare half smiles. "Paintings. I'll explain while we eat."
Annie sat listening to the silence in the house. Most of St. Germain's men had left. Deciding no one would challenge her, she slipped into the library. Ned looked up from a table full of papers.
"He's got you busy already?" she teased.
Ned's eyes did not quite meet her own. "Certificates mostly. Any forger could copy these."
"What's the matter, Ned? You're not getting cold feet already are you?"
He toyed with the magnifying glass he held, spinning it in one hand. It stopped abruptly, a ray of sunlight caught and focused onto the papers on the table. "They didn't pull the job."
She felt hollow, the air escaping her lungs. "Why? What went wrong?"
"They have increased security at the Louvre. Someone figured it out, Annie."
"Kennard. Maybe Joe actually had a clue all along and told him."
"N-no. Joe was s-so sure they he sent you out to get caught. That part of the plan did work."
She made a disgusted sound, her bravado failing her for once. "It wasn't anything we did."
Ned sat staring at the papers, watching the sunlight slide across the surface.
"It wasn't," she retorted. "We did everything by the letter. It had to be Joe."
He shook his head. "Joe didn't know. If he did, he'd have figured out he was set up t-to take the fall for the Egyptian bust.
She marked his stammering had returned. Ned always stammered when he was nervous. She crossed the room and planted her hands on the table, bending towards him. "You listen to me. You and I did not let anything slip. Not one thing. If St. Germain wants to blame it on us, he's welcome to try. The truth is someone slipped up is all."
Ned dropped the magnifying glass and sat back. "Sure, Annie."
"Don't go get loose tongued about this. If his gang fouled the job, then let them hang for it, not us."
"Y-yes, Annie."
She turned on her heel and headed out of the library. If something had gone wrong, she didn't want to be caught talking to Ned, looking like they were covering something up.
The men selected an out of the way table at the restaurant. Emily was glad she had changed blouses earlier. The sun was sliding low on the horizon and the shadows of the buildings along the street gave her goose bumps as the exited the cab they shared with Chase Kennard.
Over their meals Martin explained what they had seen at the Louvre earlier. Emily watched the men, noting how completely Erik submerged himself into Martin, even holding his cutlery different. He favored his right hand more. She smiled to herself that he at least didn't chew with his mouth open. He wasn't completely the man from the river.
They sat back while the waiter retrieved the plates and refilled the wine glasses. Once he was out of earshot, Chase and Martin continued dissecting the meanings of the paintings.
"What if it isn't something in the painting?" Kennard asked.
"They were on loan from four different cities," Martin replied. "Maybe the clue is in the locations?"
"Or not at all," Emily mused.
"You mean something like a signature?" Chase asked. "I have seen that before. Some crooks can't help but thumb their noses at the law."
"Maybe that is the idea," Martin agreed. "Like the bust, it is meant to keep you busy attempting to unravel a mystery that does not exist."
Chase nodded, lifting his glass. "For the most part, it's over, unless someone does attempt those paintings."
Feeling pleasantly full and a little overwhelmed by the day and the previous evening on the boat, Emily stifled a yawn. She caught the glint of the pale wine in the crystal glass, watching the light. "I—remember something."
Martin and Kennard leveled concerned looks at her. "What?"
"It's probably not important."
"If it isn't, then there is no harm done," Chase reassured her.
"That last night at the hotel, Annie came down and joined me for dinner. We made small talk. She asked me about Remington and coming to France." She paused, seeing Annie's features and her questions. "I said I was chosen because I spoke French, mentioning the different keyboards. She said, '"What about Prussian and Spanish?'."
"That would coincide with the cities," Martin replied. "Two were from Italy, and one each from Prussia, Spain and Vienna."
"Could be a base of operations," Chase drawled. "That's a lot of Europe to cover to find two Americans."
The men sat back, but to Emily there appeared to be thoughts still working behind their eyes. "We may never know."
Chase waved to the waiter. "Let the Pinkertons pick up the bill for this." He offered Martin a hand. "You have been most invaluable. I appreciate De La Shaumette lending you to me for this."
Martin stood and shook Kennard's hand, then watched as Chase offered to pull out Emily's chair.
The cool air felt welcome after the meal. The sun had dropped far enough that the street was filled with purple shadows while the roofs still reflected the golden light. A cab rolled to a stop.
Chase reached for Emily's hand. "It has been a rare pleasure, Madame Griggs."
Emily smiled as she shook hands. "I'm glad we could help you find the gang. Will you be going home soon?"
"Not for a few weeks. There are extradition papers to be brought up, and I think I'd like to take advantage of being in Europe. I'm owed a few days off before I go back." He turned his head away from Martin, giving Emily a wink as he added, "Maybe you should introduce me to that boss of yours."
Emily glanced at Martin. "You've known him longer. What do you think he'd say?"
Martin made rude noise. "Probably what he said to me the first time we met. 'What the hell are you looking at?'"
Chase watched a pink flush rise in Emily's cheeks. "He doesn't talk like that," she sputtered.
Martin gave her a long perusal that intensified her heightened color. "Not to you."
"He is a gentleman," she protested.
Chase hid a grin as Martin snickered and Emily Griggs adopted a look that said if she had her gun, she'd have taken a shot at him. Unable to resist, Chase piped in, "Maybe I should take a trip back to Rouen."
His companions turned to him with mixed looks. "What for?" they both asked. Chase held up a hand. "Just a thought."
A cab rolled to a stop next to the curb. Kennard pulled out his watch. "The guards should be changing before midnight."
Emily watched Martin as he stood holding open the cab door. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Emily was sure that after a few hours, Martin would have someplace to go. The Louvre.
She watched out the window as the cab neared the river. The water caused the temperature to drop as they got closer. She also heard the birds still calling as they watched for fish.
As the cab slowed, Martin pushed open the door and leaped out. He held out a hand for Emily. She realized then, that he always checked the streets before allowing her out. It wasn't simple caution, either. There would be no foot traffic, and the street sounded empty except for their cab. He must be checking the boat.
She stepped down and waited until he paid the driver. He offered her a hand, and she let him guide her by the elbow to the deck of the Erebus. "You're going to museum, aren't you?"
The masked side of his face was towards her and she could have kicked herself for not waiting until she could have read the answer to her question in his eyes.
"You'll be safe if you lock the door."
She let out an exasperated breath. "I'll be safe? I'm the one that took a pot-shot at the coach, remember? They aren't going to go looking for me anytime soon. You," she poked a finger towards his chest, "are the one I'm worried about."
They stepped inside the cabin. He turned to close the door slowly. She waited for him to reply, but saw a strange light in his eyes. "What is it?"
One dark brow lifted. "I seem to remember someone taunting me today."
A thrill passed through her as he took a step towards her. "Who would do that?" She retreated as he kept moving closer, stopping abruptly as she backed into the table.
He leaned forward, placing a hand to either side of her, capturing her. "Is that denial on your face, ma charmanté?"
Despite the low rumbling of his voice, Emily couldn't keep the smile from her lips. "I never was a very good liar."
"You are like a piece of fine crystal, ma belle. You show me your heart." His lips brushed hers softly. "And that most becoming blush." With a wicked grin he lifted a finger, trailing it down her cheek to her neck and to the top button of her blouse. "Does it go…?"
Emily let out a startled laugh as he pulled at the blouse and peered downward. His lips fastened on the base of her throat and she felt herself melting. "Darling."
He broke off the kiss. "Dar-ling? What is dar-ling?"
"It's the correct way to say—"
"Dar-len?"
"Yes."
"Never mind." He made an impatient gesture with his hand. "I want to hear you say Dar-len as I take you in the night."
Her hands flexed. She felt the edges of the table and clung to it for support. "Oh, Erik." Her voice sounded high and breathy.
"I like hearing that, too." He kissed her once, slowly and deeply. Pulling her by the hands he went to the partition. "Let's see if the other bunk squeaks."
000
William had done this. But with him it had felt demeaning, as if he were bending her to his needs. Erik held her cradled in an arm, on her knees as his body covered hers. She felt protected, cherished, rather than a woman being mastered. True to his word, he caressed her, kissed her, moved with her with a commanding yet gentle hand.
When she felt her body catch fire, a trembling in her legs began. He moaned against her body, his voice made her shiver, and her back arch against him. Something rough pressed against her back. As she came, crying aloud, she felt his twisted cheek against her.
He'd turned her on purpose, not to explore her body, and not to experience the sex. He'd slipped the dark covering off of his face and made love to her so that he could spare her his face.
A tear slipped from her shut eye. "Erik…" Emily grasped one of his wrists and held on as with a primal roar he came. He eased them down onto the bunk, lying behind her.
"Erik." She reached behind her, searching for his face. He intercepted her hand and twined his fingers with hers. She clenched them until her own fingers hurt. "Erik, don't hide from me. I love you." She squeezed harder, feeling her own joints threatening to pop. "I love you."
He lay very still behind her. Letting go of his fingers, she wiped at her own eyes. "If you want the mask off, take it off. When it's just us, it doesn't matter. I wouldn't have come to your bed if I had any reservations."
His fingers pushed the hair from her face. With a sigh he draped on arm around her waist, his fingers splayed over her belly. He pulled her back into his body and laid his head next to hers.
Emily slipped into a contented sleep, the soft texture of the black mask under her fingers.