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Dangers of the Louvre


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Dangers of the Louvre

I threw my head back and let the wax-like hair fall around my face, I looked out of the window keeping my eyes on my target, Kaylee; she had dirty blonde hair that reminded me of someone. Tears blinded my vision and I averted the eyes of my mission partners: Cat and Shane; of course those aren’t their real names. Getting to know a person in my line of work is always dangerous; you will start caring for them, and if you do you never know when they’ll stab you in the back or when they might die because of you.
I looked up at the sky. The wind was howling and thunder roared but nothing dropped out of the sky—nothing could. I blinked away the tears that were threating to fall. I took the ear piece off of the table, and then put it in my ear while pressing the on button. For a moment all I could hear was static as the earpiece picked up on a signal.
Looking to my left I saw Kaylee walking past the exhibit displaying the ‘Master Hare’. It showed a red-haired boy wearing chiffon (louvre.fr); he looked as if he had no care in the world. Smiling slightly I turned and was about to walk out on the back of the ‘Ice Cream’ truck when I heard a small whisper.
“Be careful,” I spun around to face a petite girl sitting at a computer. She looked nervous: it was her first mission. I nodded slightly at her and stepped out of the truck.
“There is a way into the museum through the river on the side of the museum. There should be a secret passageway leading into a tunnel,” Shane said hurriedly while the sound of ferocious typing grew in the background.
“Why didn’t you tell me I had to do some swimming, how am I supposed to get my father back to the truck. I highly doubt that he will be able to swim after five years of torture,” I hissed, but I still followed the directions and got to the side of the building. I looked to my left and right. When I was convinced that nobody was there, I jumped. Looking into the murky water I slid my fingers lightly against the brick wall.
“Did you know that the Louvre museum was built in the twelfth century, but it was originally a palace that was home to many kings and queens of France? But in 1793 was when Museum Central des Arts open—(louvre.fr)”
“Cat, we really don’t care!” Shane’s voice cracked into the earpiece.
“I just thought it would be interesting! Don’t you people ever like talk during missions. I mean that’s really boring, what’s the point—”
“Cat, Shut up, please,” Shane pleaded in a whispered.
My lungs were burning so bad that I almost came up for air but my finger brushed against a couple of brick that felt like it didn’t belong there. I pressed a little harder on the bricks and felt it give away. A small hole opened up and the push of the current changed as the water rushed into the tunnel. I quickly wiggled into the little hole and as fast as I could I pushed the bricks back into place. I started to walk through the water, which was up to me shin. The walls around me were made of stone with cobwebs coating it. It was dark. I took the flash light out of my boots. I lit and looked to the end of the hallway; the tunnel was turning to the left and the right.
“Guys, I’m in the tunnel. Which way do I turn?” I whispered hurriedly wanting to get out of there. I had a feeling something bad was going to happen if I stayed in the tunnel long enough.
“Take a left and walk to the end of the hallway. It should lead you right to the archives room,” said Shane lazily while eating something.
“You disgust me,” I rolled my eyes as Cat and Shane started bickering again. I reached the end of the hall and brushed the cob webs off of the door and turned the doorknob and quickly closed it behind me so the water doesn’t get into the room. I marveled at all of the artifacts and documents but came to an abrupt stop at the Fantin-Lantour, Monet, and Baudelaire: the Homage a Delacroix. It showed a couple of men standing or sitting in front of a painting of a man (louvre.fr). Most people don’t know that Manet was a spy ordered to assassinate Delacroix.
“Who are you!” yelled a frightened voice behind me. I whipped around to come face-to-face with the museum president Henri Loyrette (louvre.fr) and an intern. I dropped down to grab my dart gun and shot the two men in the chest they fell onto the ground. I picked up the two men and hid them in a nearby closet. I walk out of the room and into a hallway filled with people in the Mona-Lisa exhibit. She was the wife of Francesco Del Giaconda at a young age; the painting was painted between 1503-1506(louvre.fr). I wove through the people who looked at my wet clothes in disgust.
“She should be right in front of you, Lily,” I looked straight ahead of me and saw that dirty blonde hair again and started fallowing her. I hoped that she wouldn’t hear my squeaky boots or the people muttering in French about my attire. Then with a jolt of shock and amusement I noticed the earphones in her ears. She passed right passed the Madoiselle Caroline Rivier without a glance. I was surprised; how could someone walk pass the masterpiece without a glance. The painting was of a girl wearing a mousseline which is ‘virginal white’ and an ermine boa with elbow gloves that looked as if they didn’t belong on the arms of such a beautiful and pure child (louvre.fr).
I heard a group of tourists following around a docent with horrible English that I don’t blame the tourists for looking bewildered. I kept my pace with Kaylee a couple feet away, which wasn’t so hard, while gazing at all the mesmerizing painting. On of my favorites is Helene Fourment. She was leaving her husband with her son Frans. She was dressed in a stunning black; she has a carriage in the back (louvre.fr). Tearing my eyes away from the painting I looked for Kaylee and was shocked to find her gone.
“Guys where the heck is she!” I whispered into my earpiece. Trying to look like I was fine, not wanting to freak out any of the tourists.
“Lily, go right next to the painting and there should be a brick there that doesn’t fit push it just like you did in the river,” Cat replied. I did as I was told and came face-to-face to another tunnel. I groaned but still walked into the tunnel and was thrown onto the floor by a weight that wasn’t mine. Her arms came around my neck as I attempted to kick her. She tilted my head upward and I caught a glimpse of a man. He had blood gushing out of his left temple and his mouth. With a rush of adrenaline I tore her arms away from my neck and kicked her off of me. While I got up I grabbed my pistol from by boot and aimed it at her.
She let out a harsh laugh that contradicted the laugh that a heard from her when I was little. She got to her feet and said “would you really kill your mother, Lily”. I heard two gasps and noticed that I left the earpiece on.
I looked into her eyes with as much hatred as I could muster, which want so hard. And said with an equally harsh voice “You are not my mother,” she looked slightly taken aback and reached to her back pocket for her gun, but before she could I shot her between her eyes.
I should’ve felt remorse, I should’ve felt guilt, but the only thing I could feel was relief.
Ran to my father’s side and untied the ropes and carried the unconscious man through the tunnel and through the hall ways that were deserted and through the front door. I was extremely happy I didn’t, couldn’t care what anyone else taught and with one look back at the Louvre and slammed the door of the truck behind me and set my father down on the bed and sat in the chair next to him totally ignoring the puzzled looks of my partners.




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