Glen & Tyler's Paris Double-cross (Glen & Tyler Adventures Book 3) Read online

  Contents

  Front Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Part 1: There's Always Trouble Somewhere

  Chapter One - Good Idea at the Time

  Chapter Two - All is Not Lost

  Chapter Three - You're So Damned Hot

  Chapter Four - The Fix is In

  Chapter Five - It's a Disaster

  Chapter Six - Small Rooms and Art

  Chapter Seven - Other Little Items

  Chapter Eight - In The Glass

  Part 2: It's a Bad Guy Party

  Chapter Nine - Crash the Party

  Chapter Ten - Invincible

  Chapter Eleven - There's a Fire

  Chapter Twelve - 1000 Miles Per Hour

  Chapter Thirteen - While You Were Asleep

  Part 3: The Footsteps of History

  Chapter Fourteen - Oh, Lately It's So Quiet

  Chapter Fifteen - Puzzles and Paintings

  Chapter Sixteen - Before the Earth Was Round

  Chapter Seventeen - Notre Dame at Night

  Chapter Eighteen - Threats and Innuendo

  Chapter Nineteen - Maybe, This Time

  Chapter Twenty - The Eiffel Tower by Moonlight and LED

  Chapter Twenty-One - The Louvre is Big

  Chapter Twenty-Two - This Too Shall Pass

  Chapter Twenty-Three - White Knuckles

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Catacombs, They're Not Just for Burials

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Phoning It In

  Part 4: The House Wins

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Bye Bye Baby

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - And Now The Reveal

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Television, Television

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Get Over It

  Front Page

  Glen & Tyler's Paris Double-cross

  Book 3 of the Glen & Tyler Series

  By JB Sanders

  Copyright Notice

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, persons or places is entirely coincidental.

  KDP Edition

  Copyright © 2013 by JB Sanders

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction, in whole or in part, in any form.

  Cover Art © 2013 by Michael Broderick

  For more of Michael's amazing art, see his website: http://www.hottlead.com/

  (Some of his art is fairly adult in nature.)

  Cover Design by Heather Hasselbacher

  Dedication

  For Doug

  Who keeps my books, and sometimes my life, from suffering a surplus of stupid.

  Acknowledgements

  I couldn't get this book done without my Special Readers, and the members of the Lazy Bastards Writer's Guild.

  Special Readers: Doug, Greg, Rebecca, Heather, Tricia, Laury and Amy.

  A special shout out to Greg for his ever-helpful culinary and gustatory advice. Without him this book would be significantly less mouth-watering and a lot less urbane.

  Thanks to Doug for pointing out my countless plot holes which I have hopefully filled in and paved over. This book is far better for his advice.

  Thanks to those music-makers whose tunes were sonic muse to my prose, or at least up-beat enough to get me through the writing bits, thanks. (Some may notice a nod to such bands as OK Go in and about the book.)

  And of course, thanks to all the people who liked the first two books. Your positive comments kept me going and made this book (and the ones after it!) possible.

  Part 1: There's Always Trouble Somewhere

  Chapter One

  Good Idea at the Time

  Sunday evening 7:25pm

  The phone rang right in the middle of ... things.

  Glen levered himself up to answer it without letting go of Tyler.

  Tyler made an incredulous noise. "You're -- you're going to answer that now?"

  Glen looked back at him. "Yeah, it's the emergency phone."

  "Now?!"

  "It only rings when something is on fire or someone is in serious trouble. Remember?"

  Tyler let out a gusty sigh. "Yeah, alright, but you owe me one hell of a raincheck."

  Glen smiled back at him with a lascivious expression. "Oh, I'll collect on that. Count on it."

  Glen picked up the cell phone. There was a click and a buzz. "Hello?" He said into it. "This is Glen."

  "Glen! It's Lance. I'm in trouble. Bad."

  ***

  "So, Glen's brother Lance has been arrested in Paris for art theft. Thoughts?" Tyler looked around the table at his Generals, as he liked to refer to them.

  James, on Tyler's right, was their chief bodyguard and head of security. Former Navy SEAL, security consultant, etc, etc. He was big, blocky and far smarter than he looked. Tim, on Glen's left, was Tyler's factotum, or right-hand guy. He did all the little non-security chores, like booking the band Twisted Lawn Chair for Tyler's birthday bash or getting the King of Norway on the phone. He was also ex-military, mostly special ops. Across the round table was Tyler's Nanna, the scariest woman Glen had ever met. Period. Full stop. She was joining them via secure video conference from their island estate off the coast of Long Island. Just to the left of her, seated at the table with them, was Ms. Steinway, their money manager. Since they were in London, and she was nearby, they were able to include her in person rather than virtually.

  Ms. Steinway tapped on her smartphone. Without looking up, she said: "I know a good solicitor in Paris, and he should be able to meet with Lance in an hour or two."

  Tyler frowned. "Good? Is that really the best we can do?"

  Tim snorted. "Oh, haven't you noticed? When Steinway says 'good', she means the best money can buy. If this solicitor is 'good' in her book, Lance can't do better."

  Ms Steinway acknowledged this with a slight nod and an even slighter smile.

  Alicia Steinway was more than their "money manager". She had managed the trust that Tyler inherited, a trust that had encompassed numerous companies, properties and other holdings worth in excess of thirty six billion dollars. Now she did more or less the same job, only Glen and Tyler were a little more active in using the fortune. In addition to managing their fiscal empire, she also seemed to know everyone worth knowing, at least in Europe.

  Tyler looked contrite. "Sorry, Ms Steinway. Of course he's the best. Please arrange for the solicitor."

  Ms. Steinway smiled that tolerant smile of hers and nodded. "Quite all right. And understandable, considering the circumstances. You may assume Lance to be covered on the lawyer front."

  "Thanks. James? I assume there's a reason we got the call from Lance and not his...uh, surveillance team?"

  "Wait, what? I thought Lance refused security?" Tim looked around the table at everyone.

  Tyler looked regretful, rather than guilty. Glen and Tyler had nearly had a shouting argument about it, but finally settled on putting a team on Lance to watch him, rather than just force him to have his own bodyguards, like Glen wanted to do.

  Glen sighed. "Tyler and I decided to provide Lance some overwatch even if he didn't want it. You know what our life is like, and we didn't want to risk him getting into trouble. Especially if it was because of us." Glen shrugged, his face a study in misery.

  James frowned. "Believe me, I had a talk with Lance's security team. They had a camera on him and on the stairwell outside his apartment. As far as they knew, right up until I called them, he was in bed with his boyfriend
--"

  "Lance is dating someone!?" Glen exclaimed.

  "Table it for now, stud. Get Lance out of trouble first." Tyler took Glen's hand and gave it a squeeze. Tyler nodded at James to continue.

  "--And that's the way it looked the whole night. Someone highly professional interfered with the cameras."

  "Ok, that's disturbing on many levels. What about the big picture?" Tyler motioned to the large screen setup next to Nanna's teleconference, which showed all the various Conrad holdings around the world. There were oil refineries, drilling platforms, real estate holdings, islands, banks, ships at sea and other items all over the map. The money Tyler had inherited, and now shared equally with Glen, was fairly staggering.

  "I'll up the alert level, in case this is a ploy. Increase your personal security, the usual." James made notes on a yellow legal pad. Tim kept trying to get him high-tech with some kind of tablet, but he refused, point-blank. James said he preferred the feeling of tossing a finished job into the recycle bin.

  Nanna Conrad blew smoke at the camera. "It's a frame, and the only point is to get you two to go to Paris."

  Tyler sighed, and Tim nodded. Tyler stood up and began to pace.

  "I know, Nanna. But we can't ignore it." Tyler said. "Tim, what events are going on in Paris this week?"

  "Well, there was that invitation from the Billionaire's Club. They're having their annual thing this week."

  Tyler stopped pacing. "Seriously? Do we know who else is going to that? I assume we turned them down?"

  "We did. You said you hate parties with boring old rich men. I'm not sure exactly who's attending, but Archibald Von Tieler sent you a personal note along with the invitation, asking you to come."

  Tyler nodded. "I remember Von Tieler." He chewed his lip and started pacing again. "Find out who else is known to be going."

  "Now?"

  "Yes, it's urgent."

  "Ok." Tim turned to his laptop and began Googling fiercely.

  "What's up?" Glen said.

  Tyler shook his head. "Not sure yet. But I have a bad feeling."

  "Uh oh." Glen said.

  "Yeah. Maybe it's nothing." Tyler said.

  Tim turned. "I've got a list of the charter members of the Club, and it looks like they're all attending."

  "Read off the names." Tyler sounded tense, in that 'I'm so casual' way.

  "Lars Svelgi, Brendan Houston, Alain Rast, Robin Smythe-Rohner, and of course Archibald Von Tieler."

  Tyler stopped pacing again. He ran a hand over his hair, which alarmed and faintly amused Glen, since he was pretty sure Tyler was unconsciously imitating Glen's own nervous gesture. Tyler moved over to the video unit.

  "Nanna, let me call you back in a minute, ok? I think there's something wrong with the audio on our end." Tyler punched a button and the video went black. The whole unit was off.

  Tyler turned to James. "Bonfire."

  "Please repeat that, sir?" James had gone suddenly formal.

  Somewhat loudly and slowly, Tyler repeated himself. "Light the bonfire."

  James left the room, his cell phone in hand. Glen felt a chill. Tyler hadn't let him in on whatever the special project Bonfire was, but he'd said it was big. Glen had let him have that secret, since Tyler loved to spring surprises on him. Also, Tyler had started it in the middle of Glen finally getting his doctorate and he'd hardly had time to rub two brain cells together.

  Tim looked concerned. "Really?"

  Tyler pulled in a breath and nodded. "Right now, what we need to worry about most is getting to Paris the fastest way possible."

  "Too bad they don't still have the Concorde," Glen said.

  "No." Tim shook his head.

  "Do we own any experimental fighter jets we could borrow?" Glen said.

  Everyone glared at Glen.

  "Alright, fine. What's the fastest way?" Glen said.

  "The train." Tim said, looking up from his computer.

  "Really?" Tyler loaded that with a helping of doubt. "You're telling me it's faster to take a pokey old train between two of the biggest cities in the world than it is to fly?"

  Tim smiled, like he had something over on Tyler. He got up, went to the window, looking down at the street, and then back up at Tyler. He motioned everyone over.

  "Do you see that?" He pointed.

  "The subway entrance?" Tyler sounded vaguely annoyed.

  "Yup. Do you know how long it will take to go from the top of those stairs to Paris?"

  Tyler narrowed his eyes. "I don't know, what -- five or six hours?"

  Tim shook his head. "Nope. We can be in Paris in just three hours."

  Everyone else looked surprised.

  "What the hell is that?" Tyler put his hands on his hips.

  "Waterloo station is three stops from there, and the high-speed train leaves every hour up until 8pm. It goes through the Chunnel and right into Paris, non-stop," Tim said.

  "How fast is the airplane? It can't be that much slower..." Glen said.

  "It takes five hours," Tim said with satisfaction.

  "Why??" Tyler said.

  "Because the airports are way out on the edges of the cities, and the train stations are right in downtown. Plus you have to fight traffic the whole way to and from," Tim said.

  "Well, ok, let's go." Tyler said.

  Kevin, one of their usual bodyguards, coughed. "Uh, if I may suggest?"

  Tyler looked at him expectantly.

  "One of the security teams is always stationed at a warmed up helicopter, ready to take off whenever we arrive." Kevin said.

  "Helicopter? I thought we ruled out flying because of the airport commute." Tyler said.

  "Ah, no sir, they're stationed at the London helipad. It's just fifteen minutes from Westminster Abbey, and about five minutes from here." Kevin said.

  Tyler gave Tim a sarcastic look. Tim shrugged.

  "Ok, let's go. I assume since you brought it up that it's fully fueled and has the kind of range we need? And that we don't have to land it at De Gaulle?" Tyler said.

  "There's a helipad near the Eiffel Tower." Kevin said.

  Tim sighed. "Ok, I give up. If we were betting on this, I'd be buying everyone drinks."

  Tyler slapped his hands together "Ok everyone, we have a plan. Ms Steinway, give Tim the lawyer's name and then please double-check our financial positions to make sure nothing wonky is happening. Glen, get our emergency bag. Kevin, let the helicopter guys know we're coming. I have a quick phone call to make, and then we're out of here. Those going on the helicopter meet at the elevator in five minutes."

  Everyone ran around. Glen got back with the bag just as Tyler was getting off the phone. The ultra-secure, land-line only phone they'd had installed in the hotel suite when they moved in. Tyler referred to it as his Red Phone, and not just because it was a prop from the set of Dr. Strangelove.

  "-- Make sure that idiot at State listens to you, ok? We need that Israeli guy on this. ... Ok, Nanna, we will."

  Glen walked up and put his arm around Tyler, who leaned into him.

  "Alright, gotta go, Nanna. We've got a helicopter waiting. Love you." Tyler put down the receiver. "Ok, let's hit the road."

  They didn't bother with any other luggage, and moved out of the suite en masse.

  In the elevator, Tyler grinned at Tim.

  "Instead of drinks, you can make it up to me by getting me in to see either the detective in charge of Lance's case or the French Minister of Justice."

  Tim groaned.

  Just as the doors opened and everyone else stepped out, Tyler leaned over to Glen and whispered two words: "Show's on."

  Glen felt a thrill shoot up his spine. The two of them had cooked up the code phrase months ago. It meant that Tyler was about to pull something over on someone and Glen was Tyler's special audience. It meant that Tyler was going to be doing things and not telling Glen about them, so that when the big reveal happened, Glen got the best seats in the house.

  Chapter Two

  All is
Not Lost

  Sunday night 11:20pm

  They were cooling their heels in a Paris police waiting room. It was not the most congenial of spots. The chairs were molded plastic, the floor a faded linoleum from the 60's and the walls a color that might once have been light green, but now was a brown-green color burnt into the walls with constant exposure to cigarette smoke. Other people passed in and out, either seeing someone or being released. While the constant stream of people was interesting to watch, they'd come directly here after the helicopter ride, and it was late.

  Glen could tell that Tyler was starting to boil.

  Finally, Tyler sighed. "Well, I suppose this is a good object lesson."

  "Oh?" Glen said, feeling like he was very carefully approaching a hungry lion.

  "Yes. Money won't open all doors." Tyler said, bitterly.

  "You could call someone important."

  "Tim is still trying to get the Minister of the Interior on the phone. It seems the French take their weekends very seriously. The man is holed up in some villa somewhere." Tyler slumped in his chair, which seemed especially designed for slumping.

  "I thought he was getting the Minister of Justice."

  "Turns out he runs the courts. The Minister of the Interior is the one in charge of the police."

  A guy probably a little older than Glen and Tyler came in through the exterior door of the station and looked around. He was wearing a tuxedo and shaking rain off his umbrella. He smiled when he got to their group and walked right over.

  "Pardon. You are Glen Merriwether and Tyler Conrad?" His English was good, though distinctly flavored with French.

  Tyler stood up. "Yes."

  "I'm Henri Rousseau. I'm a junior partner in Rousseau and Roth."

  From behind Glen and Tyler, James cleared his throat. "The lawyers."