Remember Paris

Chapter 3

September 15 1909

Extract from Police Report on theft

Erich Mutterlich reported the loss of his wife’s jewels from the safe in their hotel room at the Meurice Hotel. M. Mutterlich and his wife Gerda were at the theatre and returned home at 11:30 pm to find the room had been entered and the safe opened.

Following is a brief summary of the most valuable and recognizable pieces of stolen property. The complete list is in the report.

1 woman’s ring – brilliant-cut diamond surrounded by small sapphires
1 woman’s ring – 1 carat diamond, baguette cut
1 necklace - cushion-cut diamonds, graduated
1 necklace – black pearl, single strand
1 necklace – cultured pearl, double strand, graduated
2 bracelets – 18K gold

The manager reports that a diner from the restaurant was discovered in the vicinity at the time but when questioned by the manager was not in possession of any of the stolen items. The man was described as medium height, medium colouring, approximately 40 - 45 years of age. He may have been accompanied by a young woman of medium height, fair complexion, reddish-blonde hair. None of the stolen items have been recovered.

Case status: open

Those jewels – they belonged to us.

Long before daylight, Adrienne was up and dressed. Her friend was asleep in her chair, still dressed, her chin supported by her hand. Stealthily Adrienne collected the tube and the bag of pearls and slipped out of the door, her departure unheard by her sleeping friend.

She walked briskly down the empty streets the gaslights still lit in the pre-dawn blackness. She’d pulled out her sensible old boots this morning when she had decided to walk back to the centre-ville. Though she had capitulated to Madge in their argument she was far from convinced that her friend was right. An opportunity like this would never come around again. She’d come from poverty in the country – her mother dead in her seventh childbirth, her father scratching out a living from his miserable plot of land.

She had vowed to do whatever it took to make a better life for herself and here it was waiting for her. With a little money she could move to the Riviera where everyone was wealthy. She was young and pretty. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance and she wasn’t going to throw it away because her friend had cold feet. She was going to do what was best for both of them. The problem was how was she going to sell the pearls without Le Larron or Marguerite finding out about it? She continued to ponder as she crossed the Seine.

Instead of carrying on to the Meurice she went down toward the river and buried the metal tube deep in the muck along the bank. Fixed now in her purpose, she broke the string holding the strand of pearls together and let the lustrous beads slide into her hand. She rolled them around marvelling at their ebony sheen before she put them back in the velvet pouch and stuffed them in her handbag. She’d brought the roll of francs that was her share of the séance earnings with her and she entered a couple of second-hand stores to purchase a wig and dress. A creative tale to the attendant and a handsome pourboire gained her admittance to the ladies room at a genteel hotel. She emerged looking like an out-of-uniform ladies-maid - one who was a little down on her luck. In this disguise she entered one of the second-hand jewellery stores. She spun a tale of receiving a pair of pearls in the will of a departed employer, allowing the store owner to believe she had found remnants from a broken strand - or perhaps stolen them from her old mistress.

Adrienne came away with a wad of cash that was far less than the value of the gems but more money than she’d ever held in her hands before. Enough to get both her and Madge to Saint Tropez or Monte Carlo and start a new life there. If they did their séance routine there, they’d make a fortune. Disposing of the remaining pearls away from Le Larron’s territory would be much easier. She’d wait a while until everything died down before she told her friend what she’d done. Madge would come around. In the end Madge would end up thanking her for giving them both a chance at the life they deserved. Adrienne was doing this as much for her best friend as she was for herself. She just had to keep quiet till all the fuss blew over.

***

September 17 1909

Agent’s Report

Savarkar and Dayal continue to meet with revolutionary groups in Paris. I have no new names or sketches to provide.

I have discovered the identity of the gentleman whom S&D met on September 13 at the Moulin Rouge. By coincidence this Prussian government official (who is visiting from Berlin with his wife) was robbed the following night at the Meurice. The newspapers have been full of the incident and were kind enough to include a photo of the victims. I have enclosed a clipping for our records.

Please check Branch files for an Erich Mutterlich born in Danzig, working in Berlin.

Has another agent been dispatched to Paris? I feel this is a matter of great urgency.

Percival Boyd

I knew where you hid the jewellery. I could have given it back.

Marguerite had been suspicious at first when Adrienne returned, but her roommate assured her that she had stashed the items as close to the courtyard as she could. She couldn’t get too close because Le Larron’s apaches were all over the place. News of the theft was in the newspapers; a daring jewel heist was made to order for the sensational press like Le Petit Journal. The next couple of days passed without incident. Then another cat burglary hit the headlines and all of Paris followed the story.

***

An American millionaire’s hotel safe had been broken into; the thief had made off with a fortune in jewellery and bank notes. The police were continuing their inquiries but had made no arrests. Le Larron now had the purchase price for the munitions dealer; he made an appointment to call on Von Bergenheim. Stolen German and American money used to buy German munitions to support Russian revolutionaries in the hopes of eventually lining his French pockets. Quite an international undertaking. He could hardly wait to tell Lenin and his Bolsheviks the good news.

***

Percy Boyd left the British embassy with a thoughtful frown on his face. He had reported the previous day that Savarkar had purchased a ticket for passage back to London. Certain that he’d be recalled to London, Boyd had purchased a ticket as well. Now he had received surprising new orders. After a liaison meeting with the British Secret Service, his superior at Scotland Yard had ordered Boyd to shadow the Prussian gentleman who had met Savarkar in the Moulin Rouge. Boyd had reported his findings to head office and waited anxiously to hear if another agent would be coming to assist him with his surveillance. Now he was about to see what the German official had been up to. He got a refund for his ticket and went to Mutterlich’s hotel to quiz the staff about the man’s haunts. After that he would follow the German diplomat. That would mean more time sitting in clubs watching beautiful French women sing and dance. Percy, old boy, some chaps have all the luck.

***

After she sold the pearls, Adrienne spent her days in a state of nervous anticipation. She could hardly wait for the excitement to die down so she could tell Marguerite about the money. She would tell Madge she’d won big at the dog races. Adrienne hoped her friend would believe her but she wasn’t sure she could pull it off.

They’d had another profitable séance. Adrienne was going to have to think hard to somehow convince Madge to go to the Riviera instead of staying in Paris. The money she’d gotten from fencing the pearls whispered to her from the closet where it was stashed in her old boot. She sure wished she could be honest with her friend; she appreciated Marguerite’s quick mind and clever decisions. She would bring up the idea of moving to the south of France soon, before they committed to renting a new apartment.

***

Mutterlich was furious about the theft, his opinion of the French – both their criminals and their police – lowered even further than before. He had reported the loss to Foreign Minister Zimmerman who was even angrier. The message at the embassy was curt and demanding – get the information back and find out who was responsible. A top agent of Department IIIb – the Secret Service- had been sent to help track down the missing information. Tomorrow Ralf Krause would arrive in Paris to help repair the damage.

***

Henri Bint had invited La Pinsonne to join him at his table again a few nights after their first meeting. After a short stint of fruitless but very enjoyable flirting on his part he finally confessed the true reason for his interest in the beautiful singer.

“I see you often with those dour Russians; they can’t be very good company,” he commented in a condescending tone.

“They’re generous enough – serious though, not as much fun as you, monsieur” she answered with a coy look that had served her well in the past.

“You know they’re revolutionaries and criminals, don’t you?”

“I know they’re no longer welcome in their own country. But they’re free men here in Paris and that’s all I care about.”

“You sound just like your boss. As long as they buy their drinks at the Fosse Usée, that’s all the Fat Man cares about.”

“It would seem you care about these Russians as well, monsieur…” She looked away, trying not to sound as if she was fishing for information.

“Ha, you’ve seen through my act,” he chuckled, “yes, I’m interested in M. Lenin and his bunch. What I’m about to tell you is a very big secret so you must promise not to tell anyone.”

“Secrets? Really, Henri…” Her air of scepticism spurred him on.

“I help the Russian government keep track of their traitors here in Paris.”

“What do you care what the Russians do?” Despite herself, Marguerite was curious.

“You see, there are so many bomb-throwers here in Paris that the Okhranka - that’s the Russian government police - has enlisted the aid of the Sûreté. They’ve hired some of us old coppers. They even have their office in the police building. It’s a good living for someone like me who’s getting too old for regular police work.”

“What do you do – sneak into their homes, steal their papers and look for bombs?” she teased.

“No, no. I just keep my ear to the ground. I’ve got a tidy little budget to pay folks who can give me information on their comings and goings and I myself come to the clubs at night to watch who they meet with and talk to.”

“Sounds like a nice racket, all right.”

“You know, if you happened to overhear them say anything interesting I might be able to find some money for you too – say 40 francs.” He kept his voice casual.

Though her face maintained the same bland expression as before, Marguerite felt her heart beat a little faster. This could be an opportunity to make some extra money that would speed her along to her goal of financial security.

“Why would I want to make people you describe as bomb-throwing madmen angry with me.”

“Oh, Lenin’s no madman although a few of those younger firebrands can go off a little. We just gather information, confirm it from other sources and then report back to Petersburg. Very dull, very safe and very lucrative for our operatives.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” Despite her reservations, Marguerite was swayed by the lure of easy cash. It might make up for the money she had made Adrienne give back, and ease the tension that had grown up between them. “I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a little extra money though. So I’d just have to tell you what I overhear them say when I’m at their table.” She continued at Bint’s nod of agreement. “You know they speak Russian when they talk to each other; I can’t help you with that.” Even though she could understand what the Russians said she wasn’t about to tell Bint about that - even if he tripled his offer.

“Well it would be nice if you could spend a little time alone with some of them individually. Then they’d have to speak French.”

“Alone? But…” she broke off as the implications dawned on her. “I see. An old trick but still effective I imagine. So you are suggesting I seduce them?” she managed to fight back a sharp retort. Just because she was a showgirl, people assumed things. It took an effort to paste a smile on her face but she realized it was stupid to anger Bint – he could be the source of a nice income.

“Mademoiselle, I have made no such suggestion. A decision about something like that would be completely up to you.” He managed to look a little indignant. “However,” he said with a grin, “the pay is much better for high quality information and men have been known to share many – secrets – with women of - close acquaintance.”

“I assure you, M. Bint, that I have no interest in becoming an ‘agent’ of that description.” She lowered her eyes and continued in a quiet voice. “However, if I happened to pick up any tidbits in aimless dinner conversation, I might be convinced to pass that along - if the price is right.”

“And I assure you, Mlle … Pinsonne, that the price is right.” He noted that she had deliberately not offered her real name when he’d paused. “Don’t approach me here anymore, meet me at my office at 97 Rue de Grenelle if you hear something.” A piteous look of disappointment crossed his face as it sunk in that he would no longer have her visit him at his table at the club; seeing it almost made her laugh. Behind her, she heard her musical cue and rushed hurriedly to the stage.

***

Memorandum – Department IIIb German Secret Service
To: R. Krause
From: T. Von Jagow
September 17, 1909

An emissary of our Foreign Ministry has been robbed in Paris. An incriminating document detailing a clandestine operation was taken. If it were to be published, it would be embarrassing for our government as one part of this operation is already underway in the United States. More importantly, if this document were to come to the notice of the British government it would compromise the secrecy of certain vital German initiatives in the Indian sub-continent.

Your assignment is simple. Locate the document and confiscate or destroy it. If anyone has handled the document they cannot be allowed to pass along any information. Time is of the essence. I hope to have a report from you by week’s end. You cannot afford to fail.

All we needed was a few more months, weeks – who’s to know?

Mutterlich fumed as he stood in front of the ambassador’s desk while the ambassador chastised him for the loss of the documents.

“If those papers fall into British hands…” the ambassador growled.

“They can’t have. We’d have heard. They were written in invisible ink; a thief would have just thrown them away.” Mutterlich was furious. This inquisition was galling. It was the damned hotel’s fault that he was robbed – not his.

“Von Jagow has sent an agent to track down the document, make sure it is recovered or destroyed. The damned thing wasn’t even in code, was it?”

“There wasn’t time. I—,” Mutterlich was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. He began to realize this could affect his career. Just then the door opened and the ambassador’s aide showed in a slight man of medium height, extraordinary only in his being completely commonplace.

“Ambassador – Herr Krause to see you.”

“Thank you, Schwartz.” The adjutant left. “Herr Krause, so glad you’ve arrived. Your train ride was comfortable, I hope?”

“Good enough.” The new arrival brushed aside the offer of tea, impatient with such pointless pleasantries. Ralf Krause was one of the new breed of intelligence agents. He was not some minor aristocrat using his society connections to acquire a little information for his country, playing the ‘Great Game’ by the chivalrous rules that had existed for years. He was ruthless and efficient, willing to go to any lengths to achieve his mission. Frustrated by the inability of the Sûreté or Mutterlich to retrieve the lost documents, von Jagow had sent his best agent.

It was time to get down to business.

“So, Herr Mutterlich, I understand you have been robbed of some documents of great value to us. Tell me exactly what happened and what was taken.” Krause listened closely, nodding often and asking pointed questions as Mutterlich narrated the events of the past few days. By the end of the conversation Krause was satisfied he knew everything Mutterlich knew about the theft.

Outside the German embassy, Percy Boyd lounged at a newsstand. He had followed Mutterlich to the embassy and had noticed the arrival of the nondescript visitor an hour earlier. Boyd’s photographic memory had instantly recalled the fellow from a mission that had gone terribly wrong for him in Geneva two years earlier. It was Ralf Krause, a cold-blooded devil who worked for the German Secret Service. Boyd made a decision. It was Krause he followed when the German agent came out of the embassy. Something was brewing and Percy intended to be on top of it.

***

Duclos watched as his female companion looked avidly around Le Lapin Agile. Duclos’ notoriety won him a table in a favourable spot and he casually pointed out some of the famous club’s more well-known habitués. Duclos was mildly amused by Adrienne’s open excitement. Had he ever been that young and eager? Coming here had been part of the pay-off for her help in the heist at the Meurice. She really was a pretty little thing. Estelle had become shrill and dreary lately; perhaps it was time he found a new mistress. He added a few extra francs to the packet he gave to the girl. “For your trouble,” he whispered as he brushed his lips across the back of her hand. Adrienne blushed and smiled.

As they rose to leave, he bowed, “Perhaps another time?”

“I’d like that.” Her steps were light as she made her way back to the Fat Man’s bar.

***

Shouldn’t you be afraid?
Of my best friend? Oh no.

“And then he kissed my hand. I think he wants me.”

“Of course he wants you; he’s a man. But he’s poison.”

“Maybe you’re right,” sighed Adrienne as she paused for a moment. Sensing an opportunity she plunged in, “Maybe this is the time to get out of here. We’ve had some good séances and with this extra money we could move to Nice. Or Monte Carlo – I heard every man is rich in Monaco. Let’s go, Madge, right now.” She looked at her friend imploringly. Maybe she could get the singer to go with her without having to tell her that she had kept the pearls.

“I don’t know. We’re doing so well here. First time I’ve had more than a few sous to my name in a long time.” Marguerite sounded unsure.

“Well, just tell me you’ll think about it, Madge.”

The undecided brunette nodded. Intermission was over.

***

By the time his conversation with Mutterlich had concluded, Ralf Krause was sure that he would be able to find the thief, chiefly because of a few highly identifiable gems which were stolen. He visited the police station and questioned the detectives under false credentials, bribed a few fences who dealt in stolen gems and paid off members of rival gangs. Within a day the name of Le Larron had come up several times. The only curious note came from a chat he had with a small-time fence who reported that a woman had sold him a pair of black pearls. Krause wondered if they could be a part of a valuable necklace that Frau Mutterlich had lost in the theft. None of the other pieces had shown up in Paris, but there were rumours that they’d been sold off in Brussels. A visit with M. Duclos was in order.

***

Marguerite walked down the Boulevard Raspail and hesitated as she reached the corner of Rue de Grenelle. Part of her could just imagine how she’d use the 40 francs she was about to earn, the rest of her was haunted by foreboding - a sense that a visit to Bint’s office would set her life down a path she could never turn aside from. She chided herself for the bad feeling. Next thing I’ll be listening to my own predictions in the séances. Why was she being such a coward? All she seemed to do these days is carp at Adrienne, afraid that something bad was going to happen. Her friend must be thinking she’d lost her nerve. Steeled now to her purpose she walked down the street to number 97.

As she walked along, she thought over her friend’s proposition. Adrienne’s plan had taken her by surprise; she hadn’t really thought her friend would want to leave Paris so soon. Adrienne had been so insistent. Marguerite had been braced for Adrienne’s disappointment and anger after she had bullied her into returning the necklace. Much to her surprise her friend had seemed fine – buoyant even – after she’d put the loot back.

The truth struck her with blinding force. Damn! How could she have been so blind? Adrienne hadn’t put the jewels back! She’d kept them; that’s why she wanted to leave, to get away from Paris and Duclos. Marguerite’s blood ran cold. The awful feeling that had nagged at her for the past few days wrapped around her like a winter fog and made her shiver. She would make this one sale of information to Henri Bint and then they would leave the city. What she had to say to him had better be good; she needed as much money as she could get.

She left the Okhranka office with 50 francs, having shared some details she had heard from Lev Kamenev. He had been boasting about upcoming strikes and uprisings the émigré Bolsheviks were fomenting in Moscow and St Petersburg. She was tempted to add something about possible gun shipments, but her fear of Le Larron’s finding out stilled her tongue. So, her brief career as a spy was over almost before it began. Marguerite quickened her steps. She was going to give Adrienne the biggest scolding she’d ever had. Then they were going to run for their lives.

***

<To be continued>

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