I Kill (66 page)

‘I think it was Laurent Bedon’s death that aroused my suspicion. A mere accident, a man killed in an everyday, botched robbery. Suspicions are like crumbs in your bed, general. You
can’t sleep until you get rid of them. That’s how it started, with the death of that poor fool Bedon. That’s why I checked out the photos my friend sent and discovered that the
man sitting in the bar in New York with Hudson McCormack was Ryan Mosse. And that’s why I had the same person examine the tape of the phone call that I received from No One. You know what we
discovered? Let me tell you, even though you already know. We found that it was a piece of editing work. The things you can do with technology today. It’s a great help, though, if you use it
with a grain of salt,
cum grano salis,
if you don’t mind a little Latin.’

Parker didn’t flinch. Frank was warming to his story now.

‘We listened to the message word by word and we found that some of them were repeated several times: “moon”, “dog”, “speak to me”. Analysis of the
intonation showed that every word was repeated twice in
exactly the same way.
The voice graph of each word when placed one on top of the other matched perfectly. I’m told that
can’t happen, just like no two snowflakes or fingerprints can be identical. Which means that the words were taken and spliced on a tape, one after the other until the desired message was
obtained. And that was the tape used for the phone call.’ Frank came round to face the general again. ‘It was Laurent, wasn’t it? He’s the one who gave you the recordings of
Jean-Loup’s voice so that you had enough material to edit that tape. What else is there to say?’

Frank went on as if what he was about to say was completely unnecessary, like someone explaining the obvious to someone who refuses to understand. All the while he walked slowly around the room
to aid his concentration.

‘After the phone call, Mosse went to Jean-Loup Verdier’s house. He took the car, killed Hudson McCormack, and gave him the same treatment that No One used on his victims. Then Mosse
left the car and the corpse near police headquarters.’ Frank stopped in front of Parker. He did so deliberately, to force the old man to raise his head and look at him as he drew his
conclusions. Just then, in that anonymous airport lounge, he was the judge and jury and his verdict was final.

‘And that was your real aim, Parker.
You wanted to eliminate any connection between the heroic, powerful General Nathan Parker and the Larkin brothers whom you supplied with cover
and protection in exchange for a sizeable percentage of the profits. I’ll bet that every time General Parker took part in a war somewhere in the world, he didn’t just protect the
interests of his country. No, he took advantage of the situation to protect his own interests. I don’t know why and I don’t give a damn. That’s for you and your conscience to sort
out, although I’m not sure you have one.’

Frank was like a hunter with a stag in his crosswires.

‘McCormack, your contact with Osmond Larkin, was just a fool in a game that was too big for him, and he could have made a lot of trouble if he decided to talk. And he would have, to
protect his own hide if things started going badly. He was killed in mimicry of the serial killer’s modus operandi so it looked like another of his victims. Even if No One had been caught and
declared he was not guilty of that particular murder, who would have believed him? The answer makes me laugh:
no one.
Maybe McCormack had brought you a message from his client. Actually,
tell me if I’m wrong, but I would guess that Osmond Larkin threatened to start talking if you didn’t get him out of jail right away. The fact that he was killed during an ordinary
prison fight might only be a coincidence, but there have been far too many coincidences in this story.’

Frank sat back down on the couch, looking at his adversary with the expression of a man who is surprised by his own words.

‘Lots of coincidences, right? Like Rouget, the owner of the house you rented. When you were leaving, the old guy must have told you about the nuclear bunker that his sister-in-law had
forced his brother to build. You realized that was where Jean-Loup Verdier must have been hiding and you left Mosse to take care of him. All you had to do was get rid of the last witness and
everything would be sweet as pie.’

He paused as a flicker of a smile crossed his face. ‘Want to know something funny?’

‘No, but I suspect you’re going to tell me anyway.’

‘You bet I am. Just before I came here, I found out that the delinquent who bumped off Laurent Bedon has been arrested. He’s just a small-time punk who rolled people coming out of
the casinos.’

‘And the funny thing?’

‘The funny thing is that my suspicions started with the only death in all this that seems to be accidental and not really a murder. A crime that at first I blamed on you and of which you
are completely innocent. I call that funny.’

Parker sat there a moment as if he were thinking over everything Frank had just said. Frank had no illusions. It was just a pause, not a surrender. The general was a chess player taking his time
after his opponent had said ‘check’. He gestured vaguely with his hand.

‘This is all just conjecture. You can’t actually
prove
what you’ve just said.’

And that was the move the FBI man had been expecting. He knew that the general wasn’t all wrong. Although Frank was holding a number of important pieces, the lack of definitive evidence
would make it hard to force checkmate. The witnesses were all dead and the only one still alive, Jean-Loup Verdier, was destined for an asylum and not exactly reliable. But this was
his
attack, and the general would have to marshall his assets expertly to resist its force. He shrugged.

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe not. You’ve got enough money to pay a pack of lawyers to get you out of trouble and keep you out of jail. But a scandal is a different story. Lack of evidence
will keep you out of a jail cell, but it won’t prevent people from doubting you. Just think . . . would the President of the United States still want the opinion of a military adviser
suspected of drug trafficking?’

General Parker looked at him for a long time and didn’t answer. He ran his hand through his short, white hair. His blue eyes had lost their warrior spark and he was finally an old man. But
his voice was still strong.

‘I think I know what you’re getting at.’

‘Do you?’

‘If you didn’t want anything from me, you’d already have told the FBI. You wouldn’t have come here alone. You’d be here with the entire police force. So have the
courage to be explicit.’

Frank could see that Parker’s reputation was well deserved. He knew he was in a corner but, like all soldiers worthy of the name, he could see a way out and was taking advantage of it.

‘I’ll be more than explicit, general. I’ll be brutally honest. If it were up to me, I’d take no pity on you whatsoever. I think you’re a piece of shit and I would
gladly drop you into a sea of sharks. That’s exactly what
I
would do. I once told you that every man has his price and you just didn’t understand mine. Here’s my price:
Helena and Stuart in exchange for my silence.’ Frank was quiet for a moment. ‘As you can see, general, you were right about something. Somehow, we’re made of the same stuff, you
and I.’

The old man bent his head. ‘And if I . . .’

Frank shook his head. ‘My offer’s not negotiable. Take it or leave it. And that’s not all.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that, now that you’re going back to the States, you’ll realize that you’re too old and tired. You’ll resign from your role as a military consultant, and
withdraw from public life. People will advise you against it, but you’ll be adamant. It’s only fair that a distinguished soldier like you, someone who has given so much to his country,
a father who has suffered so, should be allowed to enjoy the time he has left in peace.’

Parker stared at him in frank amazement.

‘And you’ll let me go? Without doing anything? Where’s your conscience, Agent Ottobre?’

‘Same place as yours. But mine sure weighs a lot less.’

The silence that fell between them was eloquent. There was nothing more to say. Just then, with the perfect timing of fate, the door opened and Stuart’s head peeked through.

‘Oh, Stuart. Come on in. Our conversation is over.’

Stuart ran in, followed by Helena’s slight figure. The boy didn’t understand, and she couldn’t make the leap. It was Nathan Parker who indirectly gave her the news, speaking to
the boy who thought he was his grandfather instead of really his father. The old man knelt down before him without any apparent effort and put his hands on his shoulders.

‘Okay, Stuart. There has been a change of plans. Remember when I told you we had to go right back to the States?’

The boy nodded, reminding Frank of Pierrot’s naive way of communicating. The general pointed to Frank.

‘Well, after talking to this friend of mine for a while, I don’t think there’s any need for you and your mother to go back yet. I’ve got lots of things to do at home and
we wouldn’t be able to see each other very much for a while in any case. Would you like to stay here and take a longer vacation?’

‘Really, grandpa? Could we go to Disneyland in Paris?’ The boy’s eyes widened, incredulous. Parker glanced at Frank who lowered his eyelids in agreement.

‘Sure. Disneyland and many other places.’

Stuart raised his arms above his head and shouted, ‘Hurray!’ He ran to embrace his mother who hugged him with a face sculpted in astonishment. Her stunned gaze passed from Frank to
Parker, like someone receiving good news that was hard to absorb.

‘Mommy, we’re staying here. Grandpa said so. We’re going to Disneyland, to Disneyland, to Disneyland . . .’

Helena put a hand on his head, trying to calm him, but Stuart was relentless. He started dancing around the room, repeating the words like an endless nursery rhyme. There was a knock at the
door.

‘Come in,’ said Parker, standing up. Until then, he had been watching Stuart’s joyfulness from his kneeling position. For Frank it was fitting. He was a man who had been
humbled.

Froben’s face appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh, excuse me.’

‘Come in, Froben.’

The inspector looked understandably embarrassed. He saw with relief that the atmosphere was tense but not hostile. Not any more, at least. He turned to Parker.

‘General, excuse me for the inconvenience and the unforgivable wait. I wanted to tell you that your flight has been called. We have just put the coffin on board and your
luggage.’

‘Thank you, inspector. There have been some last-minute changes. My daughter and grandson will be staying here. If you would be so kind as to board my bags and leave the others here, I
would be most grateful. They’re easy to recognize: light blue Samsonites.’

‘It’s the least I can do, general.’ Froben bent his head. He reminded Frank of someone emerging unscathed from a car accident.

‘Thank you. I’ll be right there.’

‘Gate nineteen.’

Parker turned back to Stuart. ‘Okay, I have to go. You be good.
Roger?’
The boy snapped to attention and saluted as if it were an old game they shared. Parker opened the door
and left without a look or a word for his daughter. Frank went over to Helena and caressed her cheek with his hand. He would have faced an army of Parkers for the look in her eyes.

‘How did you do it?’

Frank smiled. ‘All in good time. I still have something left to do. I’ll only be a couple of minutes. I need to check one last thing.’

He left the room and looked for Nathan Parker. He saw him walking down the hallway next to Froben who was escorting him to the gate. He reached them an instant before the general turned to board
the plane. He was the last passenger. His privileged status had given him a little extra time.

When he saw Frank coming, Froben stepped discreetly aside. Parker spoke to him without turning.

‘Don’t tell me you had an irresistible urge to say goodbye.’

‘No, general. I just wanted to make sure you left and also I needed to share one last thought with you.’

‘Which is?’

‘You told me several times that I was finished. Now I’d just like to point out that
you’re
finished. I don’t care if the rest of the world will ever know . .
.’ The two men looked at each other. Black eyes against blue. Two men who would never stop hating each other. ‘You know it, and that’s enough for me.’

Without a word, Nathan Parker turned and walked past the barrier and down the hallway. The last vestige of soldierly pride had fallen away; now he seemed like any old man shuffling through an
airport. Everything he was leaving behind was no longer his problem. The real problem lay ahead of him. As he walked towards the plane, his reflection was caught in the mirror on the wall. A
coincidence, one of many.
Another mirror . . .

Frank stood still and watched Parker until he turned the corner and left the mirror empty.

Frank reached the end of the hallway and found himself in front of Roncaille’s office. He waited before knocking, thinking of all the closed doors that had stood before
him, real and metaphorical. This was just one more, but now everything was different. Now the man known as No One was safely behind bars and the case would go down as another successful
investigation.

Four days had passed since Jean-Loup Verdier’s arrest and the meeting with Parker at Nice airport. Frank had spent that time with Helena and her son, without reading the papers or watching
TV, trying to put everything behind him. Although he knew he would never be able to get rid of it entirely.

He had left the Parc Saint-Roman apartment and taken refuge with Helena and Stuart in a small, discreet hotel where they could escape the relentless pursuit of the media. Despite their desire
for each other, he and Helena were not sleeping in the same room. Not yet. There would be time for that. He spent his days resting and getting to know Stuart, trying to build a relationship with
him. The official confirmation that he would keep his promise about Disneyland had laid the groundwork. The fact that their vacation would also include a couple of weeks in the Canal du Midi on a
houseboat hadn’t hurt either. Now all he had to do was wait for the cement to harden.