Cognac Conspiracies Read Free Page B

as a pass or sweet talk. So he simply sniffed the neck of the bottle Pierre was holding. The scent of prunes was intoxicating, and Pierre filled the glass of friendship one-third full. Benjamin’s assistant took a sip and approved this baptism by fire with a happy face. Pierre turned the bottle around to reveal the label:
    1982
    GRANDE CHAMPAGNE
    Blend Y 201-408-13
    “Well, damn, that’s good!” Virgile said.
    Pierre took the glass, sipped the liquid gold, sniffed it, and savored a second sip.
    “That’s my glass!” Virgile joked.
    “The better to share your thoughts…”
    A silence ensued.
    “Well?” Virgile asked, embarrassed.
    “Well, I am…reassured,” Pierre declared, looking at him coolly. He handed the glass back to Virgile.
    Virgile did not know where to look. He studied Pierre’s hand. No wedding ring. Fingernails a bit too long. Not a trace of nicotine between the index and middle fingers. This man was so featureless. An odd number. Then Virgile focused on the famous Lavoisier nose, with its excessive dark hairs, and in the space of a moment, the man became eminently likeable. Virgile emptied his glass in one swallow.
    “Excellent year.”
    Pierre handed the bottle to Virgile. Now his hands were steady.
    “Here, it’s yours.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “Call me Pierre, will you?”
    “Thank you, Pierre,” Virgile mumbled. “May I ask you another favor?”
    “Anything you want, if it’s in my power, that is.”
    “A visit to the Lavoisier wine warehouse.”
    “Let’s see if I have the keys.”
    Marie-France’s brother made a show of feeling around the pockets of his corduroy pants. His face lit up when he pulled out an enormous bunch of keys.
    “Saint Peter’s keys,” Virgile enthused.
    “Yes indeed, these are the keys to our paradise,” Pierre said as he led Virgile toward the door. He put an affectionate hand on Virgile’s shoulder.
    The familiarity was a stark contrast to Marie-France’s coldness. But even though he had spent only a few minutes with Marie-France, Virgile could tell the two family members shared some characteristics. They were both aware of their seductive power and the effects their charm had on others. Each made ample use of it and knew it worked equally well on both sexes.
    § § §
    Benjamin was in a heated discussion with Marie-France when he spotted Virgile and Pierre passing beneath the arbor on the way to the moss-covered wine warehouse. He wanted to see the company’s books and the rest of the records, but Marie-France was refusing to budge. He would have to wait.
    It was lunchtime, and the winemaker needed food to soothe his exasperation. Virgile was off with Pierre, so he sought refuge by himself in a restaurant on the Rue du Chêne-Vert. He ordered a steak that he shamelessly enjoyed with a glass of 2001 Maine des Aireaux. Benjamin would definitely include this Domaine Brillet in the next edition of his guide. And to think the Charente region was so often dismissed as a brandy-only producer.
    § § §
    Pierre Lavoisier turned the key. A cool, moldy smell greeted them. Pierre switched on the light, sending shadows across the gray walls of the immense nave. It was lined with stacks of casks marked in chalk. Virgile silently walked behind Pierre as he pointed out the various barrels. The entire Lavoisier treasure, accumulated over the course of more than two centuries, was before them, standing at attention and ready to be shipped off to the Americas and the Far East, provided, of course, there were buyers. Along with James Delamain and Thomas Hine, the Lavoisiers were the founders of the eau-de-vie business in Jarnac. Under Napoleon, they had known some reversals of fortune. But through all crises, they had managed to survive and ward off ruthless bankers. After the two world wars, they had wisely and stubbornly refused to merge with sweet-talking unscrupulous brands.
    Pierre explained all this while strolling along the rows of barrels. He mentioned the