The Cathari Treasure (Cameron Kincaid) Read online

The sound of sirens filled the streets as emergency vehicles fleeted to the remnants of La Sirène Bleue. Cameron, Marie, and Nicole had walked three blocks away from the club before circling back downtown toward the hotel to wait for Pepe’s call.

  Though the day had been long, the evening was still young. Back on the avenue, couples and small groups were as they had been when the three so pleasantly left the hotel only a short time before.

  When they walked into the lobby Marie, wide eyed and jaw open, took in Cameron and Nicole under the light. “We look a mess,” said Marie. She reached up and tucked Cameron’s shirt collar back below his blazer. “Shall we meet in the restaurant?”

  “That would be fine,” said Cameron. He forced a smile back at Marie and Nicole, not only for their sake, also for his own. “I’ll see you in there in a few minutes.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 14

  Pepe

  With a swagger and a nod to the hostess, Pepe Laroque entered the hotel restaurant. He proceeded to the table in the back of the restaurant where the light was lowest. Cameron, Marie, and Nicole were at the table waiting for him. As Pepe approached the table he opened his arms to Cameron. “Mon ami Cameron,” said Pepe in his deep French accent, and the two embraced and traded kisses on each cheek.

  “Retirement is treating you well my old friend,” said Cameron. He was referring to the paunch Pepe had developed that was mostly hidden by his black sweater and sport coat. Pepe was not fat, still his short height betrayed his girth.

  “It is a good life,” said Pepe placing both hands on his belly, “We cannot all be eternally trim, like the Dragon Chef.”

  Cameron brushed his finger across his nose, “You heard that.”

  “I heard.”

  Cameron gestured to the table. “May I introduce Marie and Nicole,” said Cameron. “Marie, Nicole, this is my dear old friend Pepe.”

  “Bonsoir Monsieur Pepe, Je suis heureux de vous rencontrer,” said Marie.

  “Bonsoir,” said Nicole.

  “Bonsoir Mesdames enchanté,” said Pepe, a gleam in his eye. “Let us just say I am a dear friend, not so old.”

  “Have a seat,” said Cameron.

  “You have picked rough company,” said Pepe as he took his seat.

  “I kind of fell into this,” said Cameron.

  “I was speaking to the ladies.” Pepe raised his eyebrows and leaned slightly toward Marie and Nicole, “Beware of this one I tell you. In all of the years I have known him, he is never far from falling it seems.”

  Nicole giggled at Pepe’s exaggerated cavalier manner and Marie kindly released a subtle smile, a compliment on her part.

  Pepe waived over the waiter. “Garcon, une autre carafe de vin s'il vous plait,” said Pepe and then, having ordered wine, he was quick to business. “When old Claude called I was expecting that you or he would be in town for a visit. Then I said to myself, Pepe, it is something up with Kincaid. And to be sure.” Pepe opened his eyes wide.

  “So Claude has filled you in?” asked Cameron.

  “I know nothing really. I do not want to know.” His pleasant grin shifted to a sneer and his tone to low and sarcastic, “But I did like that little jazz club that disappeared tonight.”

  Marie dropped her eyes to the table. Pepe squinted at Marie, pursed his lip, let the corners of his mouth turn up, and then said, “But a little adventure is good for the blood.” Pepe winked at Cameron, “Anything you need my friend.”

  The waiter brought over a carafe of wine for the table, “Merci,” they each said softly, almost in unison.

  Cameron raised his glass to Pepe, “There really is nothing to tell, not now anyway. But we need to get to Toronto, and we need your help.”

  Pepe slipped his hand into his sport coat, produced a set of keys and a ticket to the hotel garage, and placed them on the table. “Take my car,” said Pepe. “It’s a Chevy. It is not as nice as your Mercedes if I remember. But it will serve you nicely.”

  Marie pulled the envelope that Glenda had given her from her handbag. “How much do you need? We do not have much but it is all for you if you like.”

  Pepe held his palm to the envelope, “Please,” said Pepe, “You I forgive, Cameron knows better.” He reached back into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small notebook, and tore away a page. He held the paper up with one hand and fiddled with the key ring on the table with the other. When Pepe found the key he was looking for he dangled the key ring next to the paper. “This is the address to a cabin I have on Lake Ontario, and this round key opens the side door. Stop there on your way to rest for the night.” He looked at the three of them and then under his breath said, “It will do you some good. You look like you need it.”

  “Merci Monsieur,” said Marie.

  Pepe smiled, toasted them with a nod, and then took a drink. “Under the seat you will find a friend.”

  “I have a gun,” said Cameron.

  Pepe chuckled, “Of course you do, only you would bring one across the border in these times.” Pepe’s eyes went stern, “One can never have too many.” Cameron nodded his head in agreement. Their long shared history in the Legion had taught them that armament was not something to be missed when needed.

  When the wine was finished, Pepe walked them to the door. “If you need anything call me, and try to return my car in one piece.”

  “You are a true friend Pepe.”

  Pepe grabbed Cameron’s shoulders and placed a kiss on each cheek, “Viva Legionne.”

  Cameron peered deeply into Pepe’s eyes, “The Legion is our strength.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 15

  Highway 401

  Pepe was right in that the old Chevy was not the Mercedes. The numbing hum of the engine muted out all else in the car. Pepe was also right that Cameron had always put himself close to trouble, inviting trouble by daring convention. Few Americans join the French Foreign Legion and Cameron had been one of them.

  Apart from French officers, only a quarter of the ranks of the French Foreign Legion are French, the rest are foreign nationals from countries such as Bosnia, Germany, England, and even the United States of America. Though the romantic idea of adventure seeking may have an underlying truth for some and the idea of running from something appealing to others, the harsh realities of the Legion are for elite professional soldiers signing on for the esprit de corps unique to the Legion or for the chance of citizenship awarded after five years of service.

  During candidate selection in Aubagne, Cameron pushed for a position in Corsica, home of the elite Second Foreign Parachute Regiment. That merely to try out for the elite unit meant signing a longer hitch in the Legion with no guarantee of being accepted in the regiment was of no consequence to Cameron. The training almost killed Cameron, still he landed a dragon badge, and if he was looking for trouble there was no shortage during his time as a commando.

  Marie and Nicole were both asleep before they escaped the lights of the Montreal. Cameron tilted the rearview mirror to check on Nicole. She was sunk down in the back seat, her head impossibly tilted against the armrest.

  Gazing at the young woman, barely a woman, sleeping in the back seat Cameron knew he was far removed from the covert operations of his days as a soldier. Those years and that life were put behind him when he moved to New York and opened Le Dragon Vert with Claude where he would become known as the Dragon Chef.

  This was a new kind of trouble and Cameron was not sure that he understood. He asked himself why were these people after such a sweet young woman? What kind of treasure could be driving such madness? And the Rex Mundi themselves, why had he not heard of them before? Cameron thought back, maybe he had confronted the Rex Mundi under another name, another guise. He certainly performed many missions against questionable shadowy groups and clandestine men. Cameron himself was not alien to the fervor of cult mentality. ‘Viva Legionne’, ‘The Legion is our strength’. Cameron had accepted his role some would call mercenary and never wasted a moment on the mora
l hazards of his actions. To dwell on the morality of his actions, to question his orders, Cameron never saw the point. Cameron always believed he was fighting the good fight. He felt that way now. Cameron knew in his heart that he was one of the good guys. To Cameron that meant that if the Rex Mundi were fighting the bad fight, they were the bad guys. Though Cameron may have left the Legion, he felt as compelled now as ever to fight the good fight, to defeat the bad guys like the Rex Mundi, that much remained the same.

  * * * * *

  About four hours out of Montreal, Cameron saw an exit for Highway 25. He turned off the freeway and drove south. Marie stirred and then woke under the streetlamps of a small town main street. She had awoken several times over the passed few hours, never quite comfortable enough to stay asleep. Neither Marie nor Nicole had asked to stop, Cameron was thankful for that.

  “Where are we?” asked Marie.

  “The sign said Colborne. We’re getting close,” said Cameron. He handed Marie the scrap of paper containing the directions and she helped navigate the next few miles of short turns and dirt roads.

  Marie could not easily make out Pepe’s notes. She held the paper down by the light of the ashtray and tried to decipher the last few scrawls. Cameron put his finger on the paper and pointed at a small straight line, “I believe that is a ‘L’ meaning left,” said Cameron.

  “Then why is it not like the others?”

  Cameron moved his finger back to the line above to see what was written.

  “Look out!” yelled Marie.

  Cameron looked up to see two golden eyes above the road before them, flying toward the car. Cameron hit the brake and the back of the car slightly fishtailed, stopping in front of a large deer standing in the middle of the road. The deer looked across the road, back at he car, back across the road, and then sauntered away.

  “Whew,” said Cameron, “That will get your heart pumping.”

  “Nicole,” said Marie. She turned to the backseat.

  “She is still sleeping,” said Cameron, “didn’t even flinch.”

  Marie put the paper back under the dashboard light, “So, the next turn is a left, I think.”

  Cameron drove slower and let his eyes sneak out into the woods in search of any other creatures that may decide to traverse their path. Soon they made the last of the turns and came to the entrance of a two-track trail.

  The cabin appeared as a brown wall at the end of the two-track. Cameron turned off the engine and left the headlights on. The engine terminated to a sudden stillness. Cameron sat in the quiet, feeling numb. His eyes were glazed and he wanted a shower. Nicole, still half asleep, leaned forward.

  “We’re here,” said Marie.

  The car doors opened to a sweet rush of cool air. The sound of Lake Ontario crashing upon the shore echoed through the trees around them. They had not seen Lake Ontario from the main road and the lake remained hidden from view.

  Cameron got out of the car then went to the cabin door. The key on the ring slid in easily. He stepped back to the car and killed the headlights.

  The cabin was backlit to the moonlight flooding the trees on either side.

  “Ok,” said Cameron. “Let’s head in.”

  “Can we see the moon first?” asked Nicole.

  “Why not,” said Cameron.

  The three walked toward the lunar light at the side of the cabin. Turning the corner, they were instantly struck with a large waning moon floating above the sea of Lake Ontario. In front of the lake, the crashing ebbs were clearer, louder, and the light breeze was moist against their cheeks.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Nicole, “it’s like an ocean.”

  “Yeah, it’s one of God’s amazing creations,” said Cameron.

  “But it’s not,” said Nicole, and she turned back toward the door of the cabin.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 16

  Lake Ontario

  Their arrival to the cabin invigorated them. The southern glass framed wall that faced Lake Ontario stood the two stories of the shaker frame, the bedrooms recessed on the balconied second floor above the kitchen. The hearth sat on the sidewall, the large stone chimney dwarfing the room. Cameron had a secret dread that a large stuffed bust may be mounted on a wall or that a bearskin may drape the balcony, neither was the case.

  The cabin was only remote in the sense the property was away from the highway. The cabin was still connected to the grid. The lights flicked on with the switch. The natural gas stored in the large tank out by the shed would need to be turned on for hot water and cooking. Cameron turned the gas on as Pepe had instructed while Marie and Nicole prepared the bedrooms upstairs.

  When Cameron yelled up to tell them that the gas had been turned on he found Marie and Nicole were already at work washing away the last few days travel.

  Cameron opened the fireplace flue and quickly prepared a fire with some of the chopped wood that was stacked neatly along the stonewall. The dried wood ignited without much effort. Cameron placed some larger pieces over the flame and then went into the kitchen.

  The pantry consisted of a small walk-in area off the kitchen with shelves lining three walls top to bottom. Cameron pulled the weighted string that hovered in the center of the room illuminating the bare bulb attached to the end. The dried food goods were shelved in an orderly fashion. Grains and pastas filled an entire shelf, large cans and bottles of juice and water lined the top, and an array of canned goods covered the bottom shelves. Considering Marie and Nicole’s dietary restrictions the choices were ample. He took down some pasta and olive oil and found cans of tomatoes, potatoes, white beans, and spinach. He took them over to the counter and then opened the large cupboard door where he thought he would find pots and pans. Cameron was right, they were inside, plus an item he did not expect. A large mustard yellow clay cone capping a matching pot sat centered on the front of the shelf. Cameron had forgotten Pepe’s adoration for Moroccan cuisine. That there would be a tagine in Pepe’s cupboard should have been no surprise.

  Cameron returned to the pantry, swapped the pasta for a bag of Israeli couscous and then gathered an array of institutional sized containers of cayenne, curry, paprika, and salt. He turned on the oven to preheat and went to work.

  At the end of the counter, a small portable cassette deck was plugged in the wall. On top of the deck were cassette tapes. Cameron thought them antiquated and did not expect much in way of music when he flipped through them. He did not know the artist on the first two cassettes, the last he recognized, Pavarotti. The cassette slipped in to the player and the small door snapped shut tightly. With a stroke of the play button the tenor’s voice filled the kitchen.

  * * * * *

  Marie and Nicole came down to the main room. The dim amber light of the fire accented the furnishings and through the tall glass, the waning moon shined. The soft smell of cumin, nutmeg, and cinnamon lingered over the smell of the burning wood.

  Cameron reclined on the large sofa with one leg up on the edge of the long coffee table. In his hand he held a glass of red wine.

  “You look refreshed,” said Cameron.

  Marie and Nicole had found sweat clothes that fit well enough and their heads were so tightly wrapped in shaggy towels they reminded Cameron of turbans he had often seen men wearing behind the wheel of the New York yellow cabs.

  “We left plenty of hot water for you,” said Marie.

  “That sounds good,” said Cameron. He gestured to the table, “There is wine on the table and the food is about ready.” A bottle of wine stood between two small tea lights and three stations of plates, silverware, and placemats.

  “Very proper Mister Kincaid,” said Marie.

  Cameron placed another log on the fire, jabbed the wood into place with the iron poker, and then walked toward the staircase. “Relax,” said Cameron, “I’ll be five minutes, and then we can eat.”

  * * * * *

  With the trials of the last few days, that Cameron was a New York chef had slipped Marie’s m
ind. She had never actually had a chance to eat anything at the restaurant to build an impression. Up until now, her thoughts of ‘Mister Kincaid’ were of his experience as a mercenary, a retired soldier. Marie’s thoughts were reinforced by actions that made her feel safe in his company. Now she was reminded that his past profession had been put aside for his new vocation and the presentation was impressive.

  After the Lord’s Prayer, dinner started with a full fruity Spanish wine from Pepe’s wine cave. With that wine, Marie could have washed down most anything edible or not. Still Cameron astonished her. Though this was not the first time Marie had eaten a stew from a tagine this was the last thing she expected to see on the table. When Cameron removed the heavy clay cone, a steam ripe with cinnamon and cayenne misted the table. The large pasta pearls of couscous, marbled with spice, formed a thick base across the platter of the pot. Potatoes, tomatoes, and spinach symmetrically covered the field in a colorful ornate design.

  “This from tins?” asked Marie.

  Cameron flashed a wink, “One more thing.”

  Cameron picked up a wide spatula then opened the door to the oven. He thrust the spatula under a large ball of foil and then balanced the foil from the oven to the table to let the ball rest on a plate next to the wine. Cameron’s arms hovered above the ball with his hands bent forward, rattlesnakes ready to strike. Decisive and quick, he snapped both hands forward, striking to the edges of the foil, curling his index fingers to pinch back at his thumbs. Each time Cameron’s fingers met the hot foil he blurted a word, “Ta, Ta.” The first attempt set free a fold that fastened the foil. A second strike pulled the foil back, unveiling a browned loaf of bread.

  Marie and Nicole both clapped.

  “Mister Kincaid,” said Nicole, “this looks amazing.”

  When Cameron took his seat, Marie raised her glass to him, “To the chef.”