[Brag]

Chapter 3

Val couldn't believe his eyes. His jaw dropped when he realized it was David Hermann who emerged from the house.
"Ay, Madonna," Claudia exclaimed and covered her eyes.
Val groaned internally.
"Hey, kids," Hermann said as he approached them.
"You have the elegance of The Great Gatsby," Val said.
"What's wrong?" Hermann asked, then looked down at his striped tee shirt and denim knee-length bib coveralls. "What's wrong with my clothes? This is country casual."
Claudia said, "David, you look like a five year-old children who has been abused." She imperiously pointed at the house. "Subito! Go inside the house and change clothes before the guests arrive."
Hermann smiled ruefully. "It doesn't work, eh?"
Val shook his head and handed him the bottle of wine.
"Thanks, I'm not much good about clothes."
The most casual Val had seen Hermann was taking his jacket off and rolling up his shirtsleeves to wash dishes. He always wore a bow tie.
Hermann inspected the label on the bottle. "How very thoughtful of you. A San Ramon is difficult to find. They only produce 30,000 bottles a year." He smiled and said to Claudia, "Our friend has excellent contacts."
"His contact is very nice. Now I will help you get dressed."

#

While Hermann and Claudia were upstairs, Val explored the ground floor of the huge house. With the exception of Hermann's study, all the furniture was new, or better said, Hermann did not have it before. A couple of Rococo mirrors with slightly ruined edges and a Chippendale grandfather clock dominated the foyer. In the formal living room, Val opened what looked like a Hepplewhite cabinet, inspected the brass hinges and found them non-uniform. Val decided the piece predated 1850 and caught himself clucking his tongue.
No question about it. The stuff inside the house was worth more than the mini estate. In the library, next to a leather club chair, Val found a humidor with panatelas. He took one, lit it with a lighter that looked like a pistol and went outside through one of the French doors.
He puffed on the cigar, watching a bevy of catering personnel set up tables and a buffet under a tent roof.
"I'm glad you found the cigars," Hermann said.
Val turned. Hermann wore a lightweight sport jacket on top of Claudia's silk blouse, which was unbuttoned half way down his navel, displaying a going gray hairy chest and Claudia's pendant.
Claudia wore a button-down blue Oxford shirt. "Now we have professore Hermann in casual country style."
"You two look like you were in a hurry to get out of bed and got your clothes mixed up."
Claudia laughed. "Just don't tell Sarah."
"Let's sit down and sample Val's exquisite present before the hordes arrive. They don't deserve this quality offering." Hermann raised the bottle and pointed at a wrought iron patio set.
Claudia placed three glasses on the table.
"Isn't Sarah joining us?" Val asked.
Claudia answered, "We have murdered her when she caught us exchanging shirts."
"Oh, she's busy making herself beautiful. Then she will harass the caterers, I'm sure." Hermann said, while uncorking the wine.
"Actually, today is a sort of double, if not triple, celebration. Officially it's a housewarming."
"If I came into sudden wealth like this, I'd keep it a secret. Or they'd throw me in jail," Val said.
"Aha, always the suspicious mind, thinking the worst of your friends." Hermann waved his finger while pouring wine. The bottle shook a little and spilled a few drops on the table.
"To your very good health and welcome to Shalom House."
"Salute."
"Remember that Pissaro I had?"
Like a flash, understanding came into Val's mind. "The one that's been in the family and you would not part with for any amount of money?
Hermann nodded, looking either nervous or embarrassed. "It went for twelve million dollars at Christie's."
"We are like thieves," Claudia added while grinning widely. "I found David an excellent replica for twenty thousand Euros, so he can still admire the view."
"You have the Midas, touch. Don't tell me you sold the replica and kept the original."
"Val, caro. You have a twister criminal mind."
"Fortunately, I'm too much of a loser to risk criminal activity."
Claudia turned to Hermann. "A loser, he says."
Hermann's expression became serious. "After the presidential elections, I expect to leave the Institute. I have recommended that you replace me. Last Thursday we had a board of directors meeting and we came to a unanimous resolution that the job should be offered to you."
Val almost dropped his glass. To become a senior fellow at the Institute of Cosmopolitan Affairs with less than a year of service was unheard of. "What are you going to do?"
"The polls indicate fifty four percent of the voters favor Bob Lunsen for president."
"So?"
"He has asked me to be his national security advisor."
Val couldn't believe what he was hearing. Claudia's amused look reminded him to stop clucking his tongue. "But you disagree intensely on practically everything he says on foreign policy."
Hermann gave Val a sly look. "He wants a devil's advocate on his staff."
"Bob?"
"People change."
"Not Bob."
"Just be polite to him tonight."
"You gotta be joking, he's not coming here?"
"Like I said, people change."
Val placed his glass on the table. "Yes, professor. You have changed."

#

The crowd had thinned, a few die-hards hung out at the bar. Val considered the evening a success. There had been enough guests for him to get lost in the crowd, avoid Bob Lunsen, and no one asked him to play the piano.
It was time to call it a night. He took a deep breath and marched toward a table where a congressman, an oil lobbyist and the Italian ambassador, drooled over Claudia.
"Contessa, your husband requires you on the phone."
"Really?" Claudia looked up with a surprised expression. "Excuse me, signori."
Once they were away from hearing distance of the table, Claudia said, "You are a Ludite."
"How so?"
"Husbands now track their wives by cell-phone."
"Did I interrupt something good?"
"Your timing was perfect as usual. But Franco never calls. He has a total confidence in me." She took his arm. "Now when we drive back I can let my hair fly in the wind. That is very romantico."
The way she leaned on him, Val could tell Claudia was tipsy. "After a few glasses of wine everything becomes romantic."
She leaned forward and turned her head to look at him. "This is what I like about you. I can feel like a sexy single woman and depend on you to keep me honest."
Almost as a reflex, Val kissed the tip of her nose. "Don't depend on it too much. I'm also human and had a couple of glasses of wine."
"Why you don't like Bob Lunsen?
"Who said that?"
As they reached the car, Claudia stopped and turned to face Val. "You forgot to congratulate David when he said he would be the president's advisor. That is a big honor--instead, you grimaced like someone eating lemons, and were rude to David."
"He'll find himself in a gang of ideological fools groomed by big business. They'll just simply steam-roll him."
Val opened the door for Claudia. "Haven't you noticed how strange he's acting?"
"He is happy. Is that acting strange?"
Val got into his seat and started the engine. A wild heartbeat accompanied the move of his hand. The palm rested on Claudia's warm thigh. As she didn't protest, he leaned over and kissed her lips. Her lips opened momentarily and became stiff as she pressed them together and pushed his chin away.
"No, caro. My husband may leave me wanting but we are loyal. It is not only the money I married him for. When I will want to go to bed with you, you will be the second one to know."

Chapter 4

Maybe it was his imagination, but David Hermann's unease grew as the black car behind him also turned right on 22nd Street. He went under the E Street overpass, turned left on M and slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a jaywalker.
A glance at the rearview mirror removed all doubt. The black car still followed him.
His fingers drummed on the red binder with copies of the DSXV messages on the passenger seat. He had been an idiot and should have kept his mouth shut and taken his discovery to the grave. The thought of death surprised him. The sinister presence of the black car took a new, ominous meaning.
He removed his hand from the binder and closed it on the cell phone in his pocket. Call 911?
A Kinko's copy place sign gave him an idea. A simple but elegant solution. Double-park! It would cause a traffic jam while he shipped the binder, and bring in the cops.
Relieved by the discovery of this new escape avenue, Hermann came to an abrupt halt, grabbed the red binder from the passenger seat and left the Saab double-parked.
He pushed the store door open and glanced over his shoulder. The black car, with two men in it, went slowly past and turned the corner.
Inside, a girl who looked like a college student smiled.
Hermann wiped a sweaty palm on his jacket. "I need to FedEx this. I'm in a hurry."
"You have an account?"
"Yes, yes."
The girl nodded and took the binder, which showed a damp spot where he had held it.
Hermann glanced over his shoulder. On the street, traffic was light and cars easily went around his.
"Sir?" The girl slid a form in front of him.
The black car would have gone around the block and be back any second. He took a pen out of his pocket, dropped it when he heard the store door open. Blood rushed to his head as he bent to pick up the pen. He rose and leaned against the counter to offset a wave of dizziness.
A woman eased next to him.
"I need ten spiral bound copies." The woman slapped a file on the counter.
With a shaky hand, Hermann wrote his name down, crossed it, and rewrote: Valentin Orloff, PhD. If there was a man of unblemished integrity, it was Val. Herman put down the office address, then hurriedly scribbled a few notes on the cover sheet. Should anything happen to him, Val would know what to do. Hermann remembered the safe deposit box key and placed it into the FedEx carton.
Outside, a cop was writing him a ticket. Hermann made a small hop with relief. He began to turn to run outside and seek safety. The people following would see him talking to a cop and leave him alone.
"I need your account number."
Torn between priorities, he fumbled in his wallet while glancing over his shoulder, watching the policeman.
Finally he got the right card and handed it to the girl.
"Sign here."
He signed, not listening to what the girl said and headed for the door.
The cop was getting into his car.
Hermann rushed outside, bumped into a young man.
"Hey!" the startled youth exclaimed
"Sorry." Herman pushed his way past, his gaze locked on the cop car beginning to move.
A horn sounded as Hermann ran onto the street, frantically waving at the receding police cruiser.
With shaking hands, he took the ticket from under the windshield wiper.
Hermann looked up in time to see the black car speed toward him.

Continued this weekend.