Blitzed(109)

Francois gave me a knowing smile and turned around. With the two brothers being some of the best thieves in the world, he earned the right to occasionally brag just a little bit. According to some of the seemingly tall tales that I'd gotten, walking into the Louvre would be more like walking into the world's greatest depository of replicas and knock-offs, the Hardy family holding a good portion of the originals.

Felix leaned over from his seat. “But seriously, after a night or two in Paris, I thought you might like to visit our family seat in the Rhone valley," he said with a smile. "And maybe enjoy some of the best wine in the world.”

"You own a vineyard?" I asked, my mouth falling open. "But I thought you said that you lived a restrained lifestyle."

Felix nodded. "We do. The house isn’t very large, and the vineyard doesn't produce much. It barely pays for itself on a yearly basis."

I shook my head in amazement and turned back towards the window. The countryside gave way to the outskirts of Paris and the greens receded into urban settings. Buildings began to whiz by underneath, and then we were in the airport complex, touching down on the runway.

Charles de Gaulle Airport is huge even compared to LAX. It took us nearly fifteen minutes just to taxi from the runway to the gate, and then once inside, I felt lost. The architecture was impressive and artistic, and actually, a little bit intimidating. It had that sense of imposing grandeur that was popular in the nineteen sixties, which if the in-flight magazine I'd read was correct, made sense. I wasn’t prepared for all of it, and would have felt more than a little freaked out if Francois hadn't reached over and taken my hand. "Don’t worry . . . I prefer to fly into Rome myself. De Gaulle is too crazy for my liking."

"Then why fly in here?" I asked, somewhat confused. "Other than convenience?"

"We never fly into the same airport we flew out of," he explained in a low voice. "It was one of the rules our father taught us and one that we still keep. Remember, this is Europe, moving between the different countries is fairly easy. Especially as French citizens, moving through the European Union is easy. And of course, Felix and I have passports from a few different countries."

I relaxed and held Francois's hand while Felix led us through the halls and to baggage check and immigration. I was nervous as I presented my new passport, which stated that I was Jordan Burrows, originally from Winnipeg, Canada. "It’ll help explain why you have a North American accent, as well as the fact your French is still quite atrocious," Felix explained when he had handed me the fake papers. "The French will assume you only got a few lessons in school and that it was from a Quebecois. Just be glad that we won’t be staying in Paris for a long time — they are the most arrogant of all the French when it comes to language."

"Passport please," the customs official said, shaking me from my memories. As French citizens, Felix and Francois were in another line, and I could feel my forehead dot in sweat as he examined my passport. I kept seeing in my mind him hitting a button, and two armed French policemen coming out to escort me away. What a way to begin my new life, being arrested the first time I tried to use my new identity.

Instead, the official nodded as he looked at my documents. "You will be staying a month, Miss Burrows?"

I nodded. "Yes, my boyfriend invited me to stay with him in France."

"He is a French citizen?"

"Yes. He's over there," I said, pointing toward the other line where Felix and Francois were waiting behind an old couple who looked like they'd probably been married somewhere around the time Garbo was lighting up the screen. Thankfully, the official didn't care which of the brothers was my boyfriend, he just glanced over and then back down at my papers.

"I see. Well then, enjoy your stay in France," the official said, stamping my passport. The papers already carried a Mexican stamp as well, an actual one that we'd paid dearly for after the fake passport. He handed it back to me, and I waited a bit for Felix and Francois to exit their line. As usual, they were bickering. It was amusing.

"We could have been through faster," Francois griped. "You were the one who had to get behind the deaf people."

“It was the shortest line," Felix replied patiently. "Besides, it’s not like we’re that inconvenienced. You see, Jordan is just fine, thirty seconds of unprotected exposure to France has not harmed her. Come, let’s go to the house."

Francois grumbled but held his words, seeing the amusement on my face. He hated that I chuckled at the bickering he and Felix had, I think because in his eyes I was laughing at him more than just being amused by the whole situation. “Let’s catch the bus."

"Why not the train?" I asked. "Wouldn't that be faster?"

"Yes, but Felix here doesn't like the cameras and security all over the train platforms," Francois explained in what sounded more than a little like patronizing good humor. "Not after just getting off of a plane."

The bus from the airport into Paris was crowded, but nothing I hadn't expected. Francois sat next to me while Felix sat across the aisle of the bus, which was packed with a lot of Asian tourists. I noticed a few words of Japanese that I'd picked up in the few weeks I'd worked at the JANM, and snickered behind my hand.

"What is it?" Francois asked, leaning over.