Reconnecting with Mo-bot, Sci and Duval outside police headquarters had given me a feeling of transient jubilation, which was amplified by all the congratulatory messages we received when we notified the entire Private organization that we’d recovered Justine, or more accurately that she’d escaped and found us. The contents of our bulletin passed me by—Mo-bot drafted it, and in my disorientated, unsettled state I had to trust she knew what to say.

  There had been a drink at Duval’s insistence, a cognac to settle our nerves, but I wanted to be alone with Justine and so I made our excuses and we went for a walk along the broad promenade by the Hercules Marina. The sun had fallen over the horizon, but there was still a pink glow in the sky. Reflected port lights danced on the water around the flotilla of boats moored in the harbor. Prefabricated buildings truncated the wide boardwalk here and there, all decorated with the advertising hoardings and team insignias of the Grand Prix.

  I held Justine’s hand and we strolled wordlessly, finding our center as the heat of the day dissipated on the evening breeze. The hubbub of distant bars, the lick and splash of magnificent boats bobbing on the tide, and the hum of traffic flowing through the city formed a bed of sound that soothed and reassured me as I eased back into reality.

  “I love you,” I said, stopping to embrace her. “I was afraid I’d lost you.”

  “You’ll never lose me,” she replied. “I’ll always fight for you and me.”

  We kissed.

  “I love you too,” she said.

  When we parted, I saw Mo-bot and Sci approaching from the bar we’d left.

  “I used a fake Airbnb account to get us a last-minute deal,” Mo-bot informed us. She’d got us alternative accommodation because we couldn’t risk Roman and his gang turning up at the hotel. “It’s an apartment on the Boulevard de Belgique, about twenty minutes’ walk from here.”

  “What about our stuff?” Sci asked.

  “We go back to the hotel in the early hours,” I replied. “In and out quickly, take only what we can easily carry.”

  “We don’t need much,” Justine remarked. “Just enough to get home.”

  I exchanged glances with Mo-bot and Sci.

  “Tell me we’re leaving,” Justine said. “Jack? Tell me we’re getting the first flight home tomorrow.”

  “They wanted me to kill someone,” I replied. “This wasn’t random. They were using you to coerce me and they chose us for a reason.”

  “You’ve told the cops, right?” she countered.

  I nodded.

  “Then we can go home,” she said desperately. “We can leave this place and go somewhere we’ll be safe.”

  “This was personal, Justine,” I responded, sliding my arms around her. “I have to find out why and stop whatever they have planned.”

  She pushed me away. “No, you don’t. You can leave it to the cops, and we can go and be safe. We don’t have to chase danger, Jack. Danger finds us. Please don’t go looking for it.”

  She looked to Mo-bot and Sci for backup, but they didn’t give her any. They knew that if we didn’t find answers this would remain an unresolved threat.

  “There’s no guarantee Roman and his people wouldn’t come to Los Angeles,” I told Justine. “This is personal. He wanted us dead on that mountain when he realized he couldn’t coerce us anymore. There was hate in his eyes. We need to know why. It’s the only way we’ll ever truly be safe.”

  Justine hesitated and tears filled her eyes. I knew she was afraid, but she was also a professional and she recognized the truth of my words.

  Finally, she nodded. “Okay. We find out why they came for us, and if we get the chance to hit them, we hit them hard.”

  CHAPTER 32

  THE APARTMENT MO-BOT had rented on the Boulevard de Belgique was on the ninth floor of a block near the intersection with the Boulevard du Jardin Exotique, one of the main roads out of Monaco. We picked up essential supplies from a convenience store a couple blocks from the property and accessed the apartment using keys collected from the building concierge.

  The five-bedroom penthouse was furnished like a contemporary hotel suite. The tan hide-covered furniture and light beech cabinets and tables were spotless. Huge windows opened onto large balconies and offered a view of the city and marina beyond.

  “This must have cost a bundle,” Sci remarked as we walked in and surveyed the place. “Last minute on Grand Prix week.”

  “The owner said they had a cancellation. It’s the only reason we got it,” Mo-bot replied. “But, yes, the nightly rental stings.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I assured her. “We need to find out who these guys are and why they targeted us.”

  We put the bags of groceries on a counter in the large chef’s kitchen, which opened onto the living room.

  “I’ll fix us something,” I said. “It won’t be gourmet, but we’ve got bread and cheese and cold cuts.”

  “I’ll do it,” Mo-bot responded. “You two should go and get yourselves cleaned up and relax a little. You’ve been through hell.”

  Justine smiled wanly.

  “What about me?” Sci asked. “I got shot at doing that Morse code.”

  “You were well on your way back to the car before anyone got anywhere near you,” Mo-bot told him. “But you go and have a cleansing bath if you like. Maybe with some scented candles and whale song playing?”

  “That sounds lovely,” Sci said with a grin. “Could you run it for me?”

  Justine’s smile broadened and I chuckled. It was good to be around friends who were acting normal.

  “Shut up and help me,” Mo-bot said, rifling through the bags.

  Sci smiled and joined her, and Justine and I went exploring.

  We walked along a corridor that connected the living room with the bedrooms and went into one at the front of the building. Like the rest of the apartment, it was decorated in neutral tan and white tones. Unobtrusive abstract prints lined the walls, and a king-size bed faced floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the balcony lay the twinkling lights of four city blocks and then came the marina with all the boats rising and falling on the gentle waves.

  Justine put her arms around me and we kissed. We held each other in silence for a long while.

  “I’m going to have a shower,” she said at last. “Want to join me?”

  She stepped away and took off her dirty T-shirt and, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to join her.

  But my phone rang, and when I saw it was Duval, I felt compelled to answer. He might have news on the investigation or could be trying to give us a warning.

  “Philippe,” I said.

  He cut me off instantly.

  “Jack, I’m scared. They’re going to come for me and my wife and children. They will kill them if I call the police. I don’t know what to do.”

  Justine realized something was wrong and eyed me with concern.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “At my office,” he replied. “They know I was involved in the rescue …”

  “Stay where you are,” I told him. “I’m on my way.”

  CHAPTER 33

  NO AMOUNT OF persuasion would convince Justine, Mo-bot and Sci to let me go to Duval’s office alone. I’d pointed out the possibility that Justine’s abductors were using him as bait to take one of us hostage, or that Roman was laying a trap to kill me and the others, but it didn’t matter what I said, my friends insisted on facing the danger with me.

  That’s how the four of us ended up in a Renault traveling east to the Avenue des Citronniers. We sat in silence, each with our own thoughts. Justine and I were still in the clothes we’d worn during our escape from Roman, and we must have looked a motley bunch to our taxi driver, a middle-aged man I guessed was originally from Morocco because of the national flag air freshener that hung from the rear-view mirror. He was too polite, professional, or had simply seen too much, to comment on his disheveled passengers.

  It took twenty minutes instead of the usual five because of diversions, restrictions and the sheer weight of traffic in advance of the Grand Prix, but we finally made it to the broad avenue where Duval had his office. The street was crowded with night-time window shoppers and people sitting outside cafes and restaurants. The city was really starting to fill up and the air of pre-race anticipation was palpable.

  “Just here,” I said to the driver, indicating a space in front of a cafe almost directly opposite Duval’s building.

  The driver nodded and pulled to a halt.

  I paid the fare and tipped him five euros. Sci and Mo-bot had brought a couple of the gear backpacks we’d taken to the mountainside farm, and they retrieved them from the trunk of the Renault.

  “I’m going in alone,” I said, as the cab moved on.

  Justine tried to say something, but I stopped her.

  “If it’s a trap, you can help me if you’re out here. You’re no use to anyone if you walk into something with me.”

  Sci and Mo-bot nodded sagely.

  “I want eyes and ears on you,” Mo-bot said, reaching into her backpack and producing a tiny camera disguised as a Stars and Stripes pin, which she fixed to my crumpled lapel. “Put this in.”

  She handed me a MARIE, a microphone and in-ear receiver, which I inserted into my left ear canal.

  “Wait here,” I said, indicating the cafe. “Have a drink. And if you see anything dangerous, let me know then call the cops.”

  Mo-bot paired a small flat-screen with her headphones and put them on.

  “Say that again.”

  “Call the cops,” I repeated, and she gave me a thumbs-up.

  “Audio and video. You’re good.”

  Justine took my hand and squeezed it. I kissed her before I crossed the street and headed for Duval’s building.

  I took the same route I’d taken the morning after her abduction, walking along the parade of stores, past the financial advisor’s office, to the colonnaded entrance at the end of the terrace. I found the front door ajar and the reception area deserted. It was well outside office hours, and the absence of people was unremarkable, but the unlocked front door was disconcerting. I paid even more attention to every creak and rustle, alert to the slightest hint of danger.

  I crept upstairs, listening to the sounds of an empty building settling after a hot day, and beyond its walls the hubbub of a city preparing for a huge party.

  I headed for Duval’s office and found his door half open. I pushed it wide and entered the lobby. The place was completely still. The only sound came from the street.

  “I don’t like it,” Mo-bot said through my earpiece.

  She’d be almost directly opposite the windows of Duval’s office, and I had no doubt she, Sci and Justine would be clustered around the tiny video screen, watching what I was seeing.

  “Where is he?” Mo-bot asked.

  I didn’t answer but instead crept toward Duval’s private office. The door was closed, so I reached for the handle and twisted it slowly. I eased the door open, and as I did so, I heard an ugly, invasive sound rise above everything else outside.

  The screech and scream of sirens. Close by and drawing closer still.

  When I saw what was on the floor of Duval’s office, I realized why they were coming.

  Philippe Duval had been shot twice in the head, the visible powder burns suggesting a close-range execution. My new friend and prospective partner in Monaco had been murdered and I was the only person in the building. Was I being set up? Almost certainly.

  Lying beside him was an FNX-45 tactical pistol with fitted suppressor. I had no doubt it was the murder weapon and would be free from prints.

  I’d walked into a trap, but it was one that went completely beyond my expectations. Duval’s phone call had made me fear for his life, not think I would be framed for his murder.

  “Get out, Jack,” Mo-bot said, as the sirens reached the Avenue des Citronniers, and the first tires screeched outside. “Run!”

  CHAPTER 34

  I HESITATED. NOT as a result of confusion or indecision, but because I noticed something in Duval’s hand. I crouched to examine it and saw it was an old Nokia phone from the days before touchscreens and 5G. What was he doing with something like this, and why had he died clutching it?

  I grabbed the phone as more sirens arrived with screeching tires, barked commands, and the sounds of commotion on the street below. I heard the tramp of heavy footsteps.

  “Come on, Jack,” Mo-bot said. “Get out of there!”

  I ran from Duval’s office, wondering why Roman wanted me to be framed for murder rather than luring me somewhere he could kill me. Why wouldn’t he just try to abduct one or more of us again?

  Maybe he was just getting me out of the picture while he tried to take Justine or Mo-bot or Sci, I thought, and sudden panic sent adrenalin surging through my body.

  “You guys need to leave now,” I told Mo-bot. “I’ll meet you at the apartment.”

  “But—” she tried. I interrupted her.

  “No buts. I don’t like this. We’re all at risk. Go now.”

  “Okay,” she conceded, and I heard her relay my instructions to Sci and Justine.

  I crossed the lobby, but when I reached the door to Duval’s suite, I was greeted by shadows rising up the stairwell wall and the sound of thundering boots. I knew the exit was blocked, so I retreated and shut the door.

  I ran to a window behind the reception desk, grabbed the handle and pushed it open. A safety bar kept the gap to six inches. I picked up the receptionist’s heavy chair and smashed it into the frame, breaking the restraint.

  The window swung wide. I climbed onto the sill and looked around. There was a column rising to my right with climbable features, fleurs-de-lys, flowers and cherubs carved into the stone, that looked as though they could take my weight.

  The door to Duval’s suite burst open and a squad of police officers in black tactical gear raced inside. That was my cue to make a leap of faith and grab the cap of a floral motif. The stone held and I used it to haul myself off the window ledge.

  Below me, dumpsters, pallets and recycling bins crowded the alleyway behind the building, but as I looked west, I saw police officers running from the street into the narrow cut-through, making a fall into one of the dumpsters a risky endeavor that would likely end in my capture.

  I went up instead, climbing as fast as I could, ignoring the shouts and sounds of activity from inside the office below me. Within seconds, I was on the flat roof of the building, sprinting east.

  I managed to get a fifty-foot head start on the first cop to follow me up. As we ran across the rooftop, with him yelling commands, he was joined by two of his colleagues.

  With three police officers on my heels, I saw a fire escape on the adjacent building, but it was only as I closed in on it that I realized there was a fifteen-foot gap between the two structures. I couldn’t risk getting arrested and thrown in jail where I’d be a sitting target, and I couldn’t see an alternative to gambling.

  I accelerated toward the edge of the roof, my legs pounding out an increasingly rapid beat, my heart thumping in my ears, and when I was a step away from falling, launched myself into a long jump, my arms flailing for purchase, my legs kicking out for something solid.

  I flew across the gap, and when I slammed into the metal fire escape on the other side, tried to find a grip. My hands weren’t quick enough and I dropped, plummeting a story down before I managed to catch hold of a railing and arrest my fall. I cried out as an arm was almost pulled from a shoulder socket, but I held fast for a moment before dropping the remaining fifteen feet to the ground.

  I sprinted along the driveway onto Avenue des Citronniers and glanced both ways.

  A crowd had gathered around the police vehicles outside the cafe where I’d left Justine, Mo-bot and Sci. There was no sign of them, but I did spy a man on a motorbike at the very edge of the gathering. He was straining to peer over the heads of the onlookers to see what was going on.

  I sprinted into the street, jumped the flowerbeds and raced toward him. He was distracted by the lights and cops in tactical gear, holding his phone high above his head to capture the action. He didn’t notice me until it was too late.

  I pushed him off his bike, caught it before it fell, pressed the starter button, and as he came to his senses and realized what was happening, I raced away, leaving behind his cries of outrage, the flashing lights and angry cops as quickly as the little bike would carry me.

  CHAPTER 35

  I DITCHED THE bike in an alleyway off the Boulevard du Larvotto and covered the ground back to the apartment on foot, taking care to avoid busy streets, bright lights and crowds. I hurried along quiet residential roads and crossed to the other side whenever I encountered people.

  After fifteen minutes I found the delivery entrance at the back of our building and pressed the buzzer for the apartment.

  “Jack?” Justine said through the speaker moments later.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Buzz me in.”

  After a short pause, the door clicked, and I pulled it open and hurried up the back stairs to avoid the concierge. I had no idea whether I was now a wanted man, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

  Justine was waiting for me in the stairwell. She threw her arms around my neck.

  “I was so worried when I saw Duval,” she said. She’d been watching the footage broadcast from my pin camera.

  “I’m okay,” I assured her.

  “Come on,” she said, taking me by the hand. “Mo-bot has found something.”

  I followed her out of the stairwell, along the corridor and into our apartment. I breathed more easily when Sci locked and bolted the door behind us.

  He patted my shoulder. “Glad you made it, boss.”

  “Me too,” I replied.

  “Come on,” Justine said, leading me into the large living room.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24