any of his contacts; they had no need to know whom the request came from.
Two days later, Father Dick answered the phone at the rectory, “Ten thousand plus expenses to locate them, and twenty thousand will give you their life history. Father, that’s for each boy—twenty thousand up front and the rest when I get the report from my man in Europe.” Jim Howard had drawn on an old favor from a former Army buddy who worked for the American embassy in Paris. Since the government prohibited embassy employees from having side jobs, Jim merely told Father Dick that the assignment had been taken by a good reliable contact in Europe. The money was wired that afternoon and news of any progress would be faxed to Jim as quickly as possible. The starting point would be the orphanage.
The two-story orphanage housed one hundred and twenty children of all ages, from a nursery with infants, all the way to a few teenagers, with the older ones having supervisory duties of some of the younger ones since there were not enough nuns to handle such a large number of children by themselves. While the stone building looked quite old and in need of repair, the interior facility was kept in spotless condition. Karl Pelland’s appointment with Sister Marie-Louise Laliberte was for 2:00 p.m. and Karl was right on time. She greeted the visitor warmly and, after being seated in her small but tidy office, asked the nature of his visit.
“That is out of the question, monsieur; we do not give out such information. We must respect and protect the names of the women who have left babies here over the years. We cannot and have not done this before and will not do so now. If that is all, then I bid you good-bye monsieur.”
Exactly what he expected to hear. Karl, however, did not rise from his chair upon hearing this news from Sister Marie-Louise; instead he asked to be heard.
“Are you familiar with the name of Françoise Dupont, Sister?”
“No, monsieur, I am not. Why do you ask?”
“What about the Princess of Khatamori?”
“No, monsieur.”
“May I ask how long you have been the Superieur at the orphanage, Sister?”
“Since just after the war, in the early 1950s, monsieur, and many children have come through this orphanage and have gone on to live very happy lives.”
“It must be difficult to run such a large place with mostly donations from the people in the area, Sister. Do you often get other money from wealthy people who perhaps were once orphans themselves?”
“But of course, monsieur; we grow much of our own food from the gardens, but that is not enough. We need clothes and other things for the children. Why do you ask?”
Karl could see that this questioning was upsetting the good sister.
“For nearly twenty years, you received money from the princess to be forwarded to the parents of two adopted boys from this orphanage. In return, the princess included an additional tidy amount for use by the orphanage, is that not so?”
“How do you know this, monsieur, and why are you seeking these children?”
“Did you not get all this money from the princess every year for all this time?”
“Yes, monsieur, from the Princess Farah, and yes it was for two boys named Charles and Robert. I never knew why she sent the money for these boys; she was not the mother to my knowledge. Unless, oh mon dieu, unless the princess was not always a princess. What is this all about?”
“Nothing to be alarmed about, Sister. The princess has sent me here to bring you a final gift of five thousand dollars for all your kindness over the years,” Karl announced as he produced a banker’s check from the Banc Nationale de Paris made out to the Sisters of Mercy. “All that she asks in return is the names of the two couples who adopted the two boys and the latest address you have for them. The princess wants to send the parents more money as she is getting old and had promised the boys’ mother that she would always take care of them. I am
Two days later, Father Dick answered the phone at the rectory, “Ten thousand plus expenses to locate them, and twenty thousand will give you their life history. Father, that’s for each boy—twenty thousand up front and the rest when I get the report from my man in Europe.” Jim Howard had drawn on an old favor from a former Army buddy who worked for the American embassy in Paris. Since the government prohibited embassy employees from having side jobs, Jim merely told Father Dick that the assignment had been taken by a good reliable contact in Europe. The money was wired that afternoon and news of any progress would be faxed to Jim as quickly as possible. The starting point would be the orphanage.
The two-story orphanage housed one hundred and twenty children of all ages, from a nursery with infants, all the way to a few teenagers, with the older ones having supervisory duties of some of the younger ones since there were not enough nuns to handle such a large number of children by themselves. While the stone building looked quite old and in need of repair, the interior facility was kept in spotless condition. Karl Pelland’s appointment with Sister Marie-Louise Laliberte was for 2:00 p.m. and Karl was right on time. She greeted the visitor warmly and, after being seated in her small but tidy office, asked the nature of his visit.
“That is out of the question, monsieur; we do not give out such information. We must respect and protect the names of the women who have left babies here over the years. We cannot and have not done this before and will not do so now. If that is all, then I bid you good-bye monsieur.”
Exactly what he expected to hear. Karl, however, did not rise from his chair upon hearing this news from Sister Marie-Louise; instead he asked to be heard.
“Are you familiar with the name of Françoise Dupont, Sister?”
“No, monsieur, I am not. Why do you ask?”
“What about the Princess of Khatamori?”
“No, monsieur.”
“May I ask how long you have been the Superieur at the orphanage, Sister?”
“Since just after the war, in the early 1950s, monsieur, and many children have come through this orphanage and have gone on to live very happy lives.”
“It must be difficult to run such a large place with mostly donations from the people in the area, Sister. Do you often get other money from wealthy people who perhaps were once orphans themselves?”
“But of course, monsieur; we grow much of our own food from the gardens, but that is not enough. We need clothes and other things for the children. Why do you ask?”
Karl could see that this questioning was upsetting the good sister.
“For nearly twenty years, you received money from the princess to be forwarded to the parents of two adopted boys from this orphanage. In return, the princess included an additional tidy amount for use by the orphanage, is that not so?”
“How do you know this, monsieur, and why are you seeking these children?”
“Did you not get all this money from the princess every year for all this time?”
“Yes, monsieur, from the Princess Farah, and yes it was for two boys named Charles and Robert. I never knew why she sent the money for these boys; she was not the mother to my knowledge. Unless, oh mon dieu, unless the princess was not always a princess. What is this all about?”
“Nothing to be alarmed about, Sister. The princess has sent me here to bring you a final gift of five thousand dollars for all your kindness over the years,” Karl announced as he produced a banker’s check from the Banc Nationale de Paris made out to the Sisters of Mercy. “All that she asks in return is the names of the two couples who adopted the two boys and the latest address you have for them. The princess wants to send the parents more money as she is getting old and had promised the boys’ mother that she would always take care of them. I am
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