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Authors: Chris Kuzneski
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kind used by the military for highly secure SIGINT transmissions.
As they rounded the driveway in front of the house, Cobb saw that they not only had a moat but also their own canal and marina.
The chauffeur parked outside a four-car garage, then hustled around the limo and opened the door. Papineau, their host, took the lead in exiting the vehicle. He helped Sarah from the car, then turned his back on Cobb and McNutt. Cobb was impressed by his actions. The first was a show of chivalry; the second was a show of trust.
So was bringing them to his home.
‘Welcome to La Tresorerie, my friends,’ Papineau said as he opened the heavy, crystal-inlaid, carved wood door. The latch had popped open an instant before he grasped the handle thanks to facial recognition software in the surveillance camera.
It had happened so smoothly only Cobb had noticed.
‘How much French do you know?’ McNutt whispered to Sarah.
‘It means “Treasure-House”,’ she said.
‘Oh,’ McNutt grunted - as his eyes drifted obliviously past a Van Gogh hanging just inside the doorway while searching for dinosaurs lurking within.
The small foyer door opened onto a magnificent living room of columns, elaborate chandeliers in recessed sections of high ceilings, semi-spiral staircases, hardwood and marble floors partially covered by obviously exotic rugs, built-in bookcases, and heavy, inviting furniture. It was too much for any of them to take in with a single glance.
‘Feel free to explore,’ Papineau said.
Cobb glanced at Sarah. ‘But
only
to explore.’
‘I’m an acquisitions expert, not a thief,’ she protested.
‘Interesting distinction,’ McNutt said.
She wandered off, ignoring him.
The three newcomers each studied a different section of what Cobb now realized was actually three separate rooms: a living room, library, and parlor. That accounted for about three-quarters of the square footage. Except for a rectangular section housing a fireplace, the first floor of the home was mostly living space.
Sarah looked around the fireplace at an impressive dining area, but that’s as far as she got. Her attention was drawn to a huge picture window that doubled as one full wall of the dining area. She gasped involuntarily at the sight of a magnificent terrace interspersed with interlocking swimming pools, sculptures, and palm trees.
The men joined her there. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the luxurious lounge chairs facing the pool. Cobb zeroed in on the one with the young man. He quickly deduced who he was. Meanwhile, McNutt studied the one with the young woman. She was wearing a one-piece, blue, clip-back bathing suit with white piping.
‘Now this is a balcony to do Shakespeare from,’ Sarah remarked.
McNutt grinned. ‘I couldn’t agree more - if
her
name is Shakespeare.’
Papineau swept by them and slid open a large section of the glass wall. It led directly to the deck. ‘After you.’
The trio wandered out, dwarfed by the blue sky and the overpowering sight and sound of the ocean. Alerted by the whoosh of the door, the occupants of the terrace rose. The young man was the shorter of the two - probably five-six, with spiky, dark brown hair and medium brown skin. He wore sandals, cargo shorts, and a T-shirt that had a Wi-Fi symbol. Fifteen or twenty years ago Cobb might have labeled him a nerd, but he was the sleeker, more recent model, with a trim waist and well-exercised arms.
Still wet from a recent swim, the young woman was spectacular. By the sleek shade of her black hair and the deep brown of her almond-shaped eyes, Cobb knew she was Eastern. However, her height - she was at least five-foot-seven - and her generous curves made him think that part of her genetic make-up was Western.
‘My friends,’ Papineau announced as he turned to the loungers, ‘I’d like to formally introduce Hector Garcia - who helped you in New York - and Jasmine Park.’ He glanced back at the trio. ‘This is Sarah Ellis, Josh
As they rounded the driveway in front of the house, Cobb saw that they not only had a moat but also their own canal and marina.
The chauffeur parked outside a four-car garage, then hustled around the limo and opened the door. Papineau, their host, took the lead in exiting the vehicle. He helped Sarah from the car, then turned his back on Cobb and McNutt. Cobb was impressed by his actions. The first was a show of chivalry; the second was a show of trust.
So was bringing them to his home.
‘Welcome to La Tresorerie, my friends,’ Papineau said as he opened the heavy, crystal-inlaid, carved wood door. The latch had popped open an instant before he grasped the handle thanks to facial recognition software in the surveillance camera.
It had happened so smoothly only Cobb had noticed.
‘How much French do you know?’ McNutt whispered to Sarah.
‘It means “Treasure-House”,’ she said.
‘Oh,’ McNutt grunted - as his eyes drifted obliviously past a Van Gogh hanging just inside the doorway while searching for dinosaurs lurking within.
The small foyer door opened onto a magnificent living room of columns, elaborate chandeliers in recessed sections of high ceilings, semi-spiral staircases, hardwood and marble floors partially covered by obviously exotic rugs, built-in bookcases, and heavy, inviting furniture. It was too much for any of them to take in with a single glance.
‘Feel free to explore,’ Papineau said.
Cobb glanced at Sarah. ‘But
only
to explore.’
‘I’m an acquisitions expert, not a thief,’ she protested.
‘Interesting distinction,’ McNutt said.
She wandered off, ignoring him.
The three newcomers each studied a different section of what Cobb now realized was actually three separate rooms: a living room, library, and parlor. That accounted for about three-quarters of the square footage. Except for a rectangular section housing a fireplace, the first floor of the home was mostly living space.
Sarah looked around the fireplace at an impressive dining area, but that’s as far as she got. Her attention was drawn to a huge picture window that doubled as one full wall of the dining area. She gasped involuntarily at the sight of a magnificent terrace interspersed with interlocking swimming pools, sculptures, and palm trees.
The men joined her there. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the luxurious lounge chairs facing the pool. Cobb zeroed in on the one with the young man. He quickly deduced who he was. Meanwhile, McNutt studied the one with the young woman. She was wearing a one-piece, blue, clip-back bathing suit with white piping.
‘Now this is a balcony to do Shakespeare from,’ Sarah remarked.
McNutt grinned. ‘I couldn’t agree more - if
her
name is Shakespeare.’
Papineau swept by them and slid open a large section of the glass wall. It led directly to the deck. ‘After you.’
The trio wandered out, dwarfed by the blue sky and the overpowering sight and sound of the ocean. Alerted by the whoosh of the door, the occupants of the terrace rose. The young man was the shorter of the two - probably five-six, with spiky, dark brown hair and medium brown skin. He wore sandals, cargo shorts, and a T-shirt that had a Wi-Fi symbol. Fifteen or twenty years ago Cobb might have labeled him a nerd, but he was the sleeker, more recent model, with a trim waist and well-exercised arms.
Still wet from a recent swim, the young woman was spectacular. By the sleek shade of her black hair and the deep brown of her almond-shaped eyes, Cobb knew she was Eastern. However, her height - she was at least five-foot-seven - and her generous curves made him think that part of her genetic make-up was Western.
‘My friends,’ Papineau announced as he turned to the loungers, ‘I’d like to formally introduce Hector Garcia - who helped you in New York - and Jasmine Park.’ He glanced back at the trio. ‘This is Sarah Ellis, Josh
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