Trouble in Paradise - Chapter 2

This chapter is behind a cut, as it contains brief amounts of boob.



“Wendy?  There you are, finally!  So what’s my favorite ginger been up to while I’ve been busy entertaining the locals?”  Mary leaned against the rough stucco wall of her vacation house, grateful that the third call finally picked up.

“Sorry about that.  I was, getting to know some of the local authorities.”  The voice on the other end drawled, halfway to laughing.

“You’re not in jail, are you?”

The tone of amusement on the other end of the line just grew.  “No, but I was in restraints for a little while.  Y’know.  For sport.”

“Who’s that?”  The police officer turned his head to look up at Wendy on the phone.  Or, at least, he was a police officer, before his uniform ended up scattered in pieces around the room and he ended up in a contented heap with a red-haired foreign lady of questionable motives.  Motives he decided to continue not to question as long as she let him use her as a pillow.

Wendy grinned down at him, eyes half-closed as she stroked his hair.

“Would you excuse me a moment, handsome?”  she whispered softly, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before extricating herself from their tangle and scooped up what bits of her clothes she could reach as she wandered into the next room.

“I didn’t even know you played that way.  Well, at least one of us had a good time tonight.”

“Oh?  How’d things go with the dealers?”  Wendy kept her voice hushed, as she half-heartedly tried to get dressed at the same time.

“A little skittish, but they came around in the end.  They threw a condition at me though.”  Mary tried her best to ignore the commotion on the other end.  Wendy was always up to no good.  But usually that ‘no good’ worked to her advantage.

“Shoot.”

“They want someone they can actually sell relics to.”

A look of confusion crossed Wendy’s face as she nearly tripped over her own underwear.  “What use’ve we got for relics?”

“None at all.  But I’m sure we can find someone who does.  I was thinking about tracking down Madame Delacroix.  I’ve been meaning to meet her sometime anyway.  She deals in ancient artifacts, am I right?”

“Delacroix?  Oh yeah, she deals in anything and everything art-related.  Deals even better in fakes if memory serves.”

Mary smiled, the grin carrying through her voice down the line.  “Well then, it sounds like these two will be perfect for each other.  Now we just need to find her.”

“You leave that to me.  I know some people who move in her circles.”  Wendy turned around and hung up the phone as she heard the door creak open behind her.  The handsome young officer smiled bashfully, holding her pants in one hand.

She took them in exchange for a smooch.  “Thank you, sweet thing.  I’m afraid I’m going to need to be running along, now.”

----------

Hardly another word did Mary hear from Wendy until almost 2 days later, when, just as the first bits of morning light started creeping through her bedroom window, Wendy creeped through her door and plopped down on the bed beside her, nearly meeting with an elbow to the ribs.

“What time is it?”  Mary mumbled groggily.

“Somewhere around the ass crack of dawn.”  Wendy beamed.

“I hate you.”

“I know” Wendy purred affectionately.  “And you’ll hate me even more now, because I got in touch with Madame Delacroix and she’s interested in having a look at what you’ve got to offer.  We’re headed to this little town on the southern coast of France to meet with her.  I’ve heard it’s pretty plush.”

Of course, when Wendy spoke of ‘pretty plush’, she usually meant silk sheets and lounging by the pool while cabana boys serve you fruity umbrella drinks.  Which sounded pretty nice right about now.

“Okay, I hate you slightly less.”

“Darn.”  Wendy snapped her fingers.

----------

“That view!”  Mary leaned against the fence, staring out over the perfect crystal waters, quiet seaside town, and green hills in the distance.  After being sandblasted for the better part of a week, she was in heaven.  “How did you manage to win us this guest house on such short notice?”

Wendy shrugged.  “Oh, it was at Delacroix’s insistence.  She said she likes to make sure her guests are well-accommodated.  Especially the new business acquaintances.”

“Really?”  Mary stepped back, immediately more suspicious.

Wendy grinned widely.  “Welcome to my world, darlin’.  Yachts, Private Jets, garden apartments, and drinking bourbon with sleazy old men for personal gain.”

Mary circled the pool’s edge, heading back inside, thoughtful.  “And lime green walls.”  She noted, making a face.

“It’s avant-garde!”  Wendy followed her inside.  Her drawl completely ruined that word.

“And possibly bugged.”

“You think so?”

Mary nodded, studying the cluttered room.  “Think about it, Wendy.  Madame Delacroix works with anyone and everyone, as long as they have more money than scruples.  If there were one person in the world in the perfect position to profit off information, it’s her.”  She spun around to face Wendy, with a pointed look that said what she dared not speak out loud.

“You got yerself a point.”  Wendy conceded, making a note to herself to mention nothing telling while they’re in the house.  Or in the car.  Or in Madame Delacroix’s house.

“I would do it if I were her.”

----------

I’ll confess, as much as I am hoping she will take an interest in these relics I’m selling her, there’s another reason I’ve been wanting to get in with Madame Delacroix.

She’s connected.  Well connected.  Legitimate art, smuggled art, stolen, plundered, counterfeit, she buys and sells it all the same.  Anyone with a taste for the exotic and expensive knows of her.  Many of us whose pastimes run outside the law eventually turn to her to help us move goods, which she’s always happy to do.

And there’s one person in particular I am counting on her having a working relationship with.  If I am lucky, he even attends her parties.  Granted, it’d be bad form to knife him in the back in her study, but still, I’m sure there’ll be a day I want to know which people are his favorites.  To have an excuse to be in the same room as he is.  Perhaps even to arrange a rendezvous in my own study.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  First, I need to get on Delacroix’s good side.

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“Ahh!  There are my new associates!”  Margeaux Delacroix beamed with a deliberate enthusiasm as she strode across the room and planted kisses on Mary and Wendy’s cheeks in turn.  “How has your stay treated you thus far?  Are the accommodations to your liking?”

“Do you always host your gatherings in paradise?”  Mary looked around the foyer of Margeaux’s mansion with an equally deliberate admiration.

“I insist in only the best in all things, dear.  Be that in locale, wares, or company.”  Madame Delacroix grinned, a smile that suggested a hidden weight to her words.  “And by the way, it is so nice to work with people who have gracious manners, but are not fools.” she remarked, knowingly.

A moment of ‘ah ha’ passed between the three women, but before anyone could make a comment, Margeaux continued.  “But!  That is not why we are here, no?  I have been spending some time studying these treasures you’ve bought for me.”  With a gesture, she led the two of them toward the stairs and into a small gallery room, where the relics Mary brought her sat perched and waiting.

“I hope you’ve found them to be of interest?” Mary suggested hopefully.

“Actually...”  She turned around to face the trio of statues sitting on a shelf, stroking her chin thoughtfully “They’re lovely enough, but I must know: what makes them better than the ones in Setra?”

Mary expected this question.  “Well, there’s a certain allure in having something others do not.” she began.  “Everyone already has access to what’s from Setra.  Everyone knows about them.  Your aunt has one on her shelf as a conversation piece.  Teenagers pretend to worship statues of Isis to feel different and shock their parents-”

“Yes,” Margeaux interrupted, in a way that showed she clearly rated what she had to say about a subject above anyone else’s opinion, “Egypt is starting to get a bit overdone.”

As politely as she could manage, Mary disagreed.  “Egypt has been a source of fascination for thousands of years, Madame.  It’ll never be ‘overdone,’ though certain parts of it may fall in and out of fashion.  But Al Simhara, that’s something new.  A distant valley, still filled with the mystique of unexplored tombs.”

Madame Delacroix pondered this quietly, looking between Mary and the statues, and doing her best to look as if she was about to argue that point.

After a moment to let Mary’s pitch sink in, Wendy turned her attention away from a painting on the wall and added, “Besides, it’s hard to get admiration for your impeccable tastes unless a lesser version is already popular.  If it’s not, then your tastes are just strange.”

With a gesture, Margeaux conceded Wendy’s point.  “Yes.  All right.  I’ll tell you what.  I will take these pieces and include them in the auction at my party tomorrow, and see how they do.”  

Then she gave them both her most gracious smile.  “You both are quite welcome to attend, of course.”

----------

“You sure you’re ready to make a show at one of Madame Delacroix’s parties?”  Wendy half-joked as she zipped up Mary’s dress.  “I know you’ve got a lot of money, but half the folks here had hundred-dollar bills used for their baby wipes.”

Mary took a moment to tug and adjust at all the little straps and gauzy bits, then studied herself in the mirror with a satisfied nod.  “Absolutely.  Just because I wasn’t born into high society doesn’t mean I haven’t learned to schmooze.  Besides, much of what’s sold at these parties is illegal on the open market, and I know at least some of it is stolen.  I have a sneaking suspicion I’ll be among my own kind here.  I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to do a little networking.”

“I guess that’s true.”  Wendy leaned in to give her hair one last preen.  “And besides, you’ve had a mighty fine teacher in the arts of being a respectable lady.”

“Of acting like a respectable lady.  When the situation demands it.”  Mary corrected with a sideways glance shot Wendy’s way.

Wendy giggled.  There was no denying the truth, but there was a slap given to Mary’s pearl-studded back.

As if on cue, the bedroom door opened, and Simon ducked into the room, dressed to the nines and bowed to the women graciously.

“Ladies, your chariot awaits.”

----------

A couple hours later, Mary found herself standing in Margeaux’s parlor - well, one of them anyway - with a party drink in one hand and Simon hovering nearby, staring into the stern but impassioned face of a man who introduced himself only as Carranza, who’d pinned her against the window with a tale of his efforts against the Peruvian authorities.

“So you see my trouble, Ms. Downing.  The very government that cries all day about freedom, cannot appreciate that very same freedom when exercised by their people.”

“Freedom to live in the manner they approve of.”  Mary agreed.  “But those of us with a greater vision, they can’t handle the likes of us, can they?”  She leaned in close, her tone hushing to a whisper.  She looked up into his eyes as he hooked himself on her every word.  “I think what you need, Mr. Carranza, is more friends who understand, and are in a position to help.”

“But you say you’re all the way out in the Pacific.”

Mary shrugged, smiled, and sipped her drink.  “There is much freedom out there at sea.  Freedom to explore whatever revolutionary ideas inspire you.  And the freedom to develop whatever technologies you deem necessary to protect them.”

Her newfound friend took the bait.  “And just what sort of technologies may that be, Ms. Downing?”

“Ones that would make sure no government dogs would have the courage to set foot on your fields again.”

“Monopolizing the newcomers again, Emilio?” came a man’s voice from behind Carranza.  Gentle, and smooth as silk.

Carranza grinned widely and stepped aside, letting his friend into the conversation.  “This one, ehh, she is like us I think.  My dear lady, I’d like to introduce my old friend, Shen Hui Qiang.  Hui Quiang, this is Mary Downing.”

“Charmed.”  Mary and Hui Qiang exchanged polite bows.  “So what is it that you do, Mr. Shen?”

“I head an organization called the Guan Jin.”  He did his best to look modest about it, but was not entirely successful.

“Guan Jin?”  Mary mulled this over a moment.  A familiar name.  “I believe I’ve heard of them.  Zhejiang province, am I right?”  A triad leader, Mary noted to herself.  I really am in the company of my own kind tonight.

“Indeed.” He seemed to pick up on Mary’s appreciative look.  “I like a worldly woman.  Do you travel often, Miss Downing?”

“Very.  I’m based in the Pacific, but find myself venturing Eastward on a regular basis.”

“Well.”  Hui Qiang’s face took on a look of polite, but pleased surprise. “If that’s the case and you’re Mr. Carranza’s type of lady, it’s a wonder we haven’t run across one another before.”

“I’m a bit new on the scene.  But tonight may be a perfect night to do something to remedy this.”  Mary found herself forgetting about Carranza and Simon both standing beside her, and staring into Mr. Shen’s eyes for perhaps a few seconds longer than she should.  Charming man.  She couldn’t help but wonder if that charm was intentional, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

Gently, Mr. Shen took Mary’s hand and led her away from the crowd.  “Every new face is a new opportunity.  Well then, Miss Downing, you should tell me about yourself.”

Simon and Carranza passed each other knowing glances, before Simon silently excused himself to go figure out where Wendy wandered off to.

He found her across the house, at the edge of the indoor pool, surrounded by a trio of aging jet-setters, recalling in her fondest possible words the way the sun bounces off the coral reefs of their island home.

“Well, if I’m ever out that way, I’ll have to look you up.”

“You should.  I’ll give you the grand tour.  Introduce you to some of the locals.  Make sure you have a wonderful time.”  Wendy said with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a tone just suggestive enough to make the two older men laugh.

Quietly, Simon sidled up beside her and slipped a fresh drink into her hands.

“You again!”  Wendy grinned and wrapped one arm around his shoulders.  “Mary run away from you?”

“I thought it was best to give her a little time alone.”  Simon answered as tactfully as possible.

“Oh?  Who’s she met?”  Wendy turned to scan the main hall, just beyond the pool’s glass doors, catching not a glimpse of Mary, but another highly interesting trio of figures making their way down the stairs.  Without mentioning this, she handed the drink back to Simon and quickly excused herself from the group.  “Maybe she can introduce us.”

“I-” Simon began to protest, but found himself standing alone with a cocktail in one hand as Wendy’s new friends wandered off in another direction.  Shrugging to himself, he drank it and resolved to leave the girls to their mischief.

Rounding a corner, Wendy spotted Mary and her newfound friend in one of the house’s studies, completely engrossed in a conversation about, what she could guess from catching a couple sentences, the merging of mysticism and scientific procedure.

A subject she knew Mary could go on about for hours if given half a chance, so she got right to the point and clapped her on the shoulder to get her attention.  “Hey, Mary, I hate to interrupt but there is someone here you simply must meet.”

She ignored the looks they both gave her as she pulled Mary aside and pointed down the hall.

“Isn’t that gentleman your friend, there?”

Mary narrowed her eyes as she spotted the pair in the foyer.  “Yes.”  she said simply, negating to add the bits about ruining her life, or wanting to see him go up in flames.  “Have they been upstairs with Delacroix this entire time?  I guess they must have some special business going on between them.”

Wendy studied the pair for a moment herself, before adding her own conclusion.  “That’s one classy-looking lady he has on his arm there.  I wonder how much she charges per hour?”

Hui Qiang, not to be pulled away from a good conversation so casually, made his way back over to the pair, pulling Mary’s attention back by running a finger down one of her strands of pearls.  “That one?  He’s a very dangerous man to work with.  But I gather you two knew that already.”

“So, are you going to talk to him?” Wendy dared.

Mary shot Wendy a look filled with enough venom to kill an elephant, then, inexplicably, smiled and shook her head.

“Not yet.”

The ringing of a bell interrupted them, as well as everyone else in the house, as previously-invisible servants stepped away from their posts and set down their drinks trays to usher the crowd toward the foyer to hear Margeaux speak.

“I would like to thank you all for attending tonight.”  She began.  “Nothing pleases me more than to spend such a perfect evening in the presence of such fine company.  Except, perhaps, to invite them to attend the highlight of the event: an auction of the most exquisite art and antiques that money only has the rare chance to buy.”

With a flourish, a pair of valets opened a set of double doors at the far side of the parlour, and everyone made their way into toward the auction room.

----------

Mary didn’t care much for spending all her money on rare art.  But she sat through it quietly, putting in a few token bids and letting Wendy get into some very enthusiastic attempts to blow away her savings on some expensive nicknacks.



While always a woman of some wealth, she never entirely understood the motives of the idle rich.  Much more fun, really, to arrange the theft of something rare and sought-after than fight for the privilege of paying for it.

Granted, it would be bad for business to attempt to steal from Margeaux herself.

Much better for business, however, was her own collection of Egyptian antiques selling for a decent price.  And she spent the rest of the auction in quiet contemplation about her plans for all that tiberium she’d soon be bringing home.



“Well, it is a start.” Margeaux remarked at the end of the evening, approaching Mary as she made her rounds through the clumps of party-goers.  “I think with the right marketing, there could be a nice niche for these.”

“Excellent.  I believe you already have the contact information for the Sahrawis?”

“I do.  But I must ask something, Mary, dear.”  She gave her new associate a questioning look. “What’s in it for you to be playing matchmaker in this relationship?”

“I scratch his back, he scratches mine.” Mary answered vaguely.

“Ah!”  Madame Delacroix knew an under-the-table deal when she saw it.  “Pehraps it is best left between the two of you, then.  And perhaps you and I should keep in touch as well.”  She leaned in close, with a smile that suggested  a hundred shady deals in the future.

Mary matched her grin.  “I plan on it.”