The Chimera Sanction (22 page)

Sitting a bread roll’s throw away from the imitation of the statue of David in the city plaza, Dulac recognized the heavyset man who in his prime had often been mistaken for Antonio Banderas. The Venezuelan crossed the Piazza Della Signoria and approached the small café and
restaurant
. Put on a bit of weight, have we Juan?

Dulac couldn’t help notice two men with oversized necks and
undersized
heads walking not so discreetly behind Garcia. Drawing closer to Dulac’s table, Garcia recognized the Frenchman and smiled. The
bodyguards
continued on as Garcia stopped and sat down.

‘So what brings you to Florence?’ Dulac said, trying to jumpstart the conversation.

‘I’m picking up a drawing by Piero di Cosimo. I’m still awaiting the last of the authentication certificates. In this business, you can’t be too careful. Too many crooks,’ Juan said, leaning over towards Dulac in feigned confidence. ‘So tell me my friend, what’s this business you can’t
talk to me about over the phone?’

The waiter came to the table and hovered, pen and pad in hand. ‘Double espresso,’ said Garcia.

‘Same,’ said Dulac.

Dulac waited for the waiter to leave before answering.

‘Well, it goes like this. A certain party wishes to have abducted an important fugitive from French justice.’

Garcia’s eyes narrowed into slits. ‘So?’

‘I thought you might—’

‘Might what? I’m in the sugar business.’

‘I don’t have time for games, Juan.’

Garcia’s face hardened. ‘I don’t like your tone of voice, my friend. What do you mean “games”?’

‘I mean I did my homework. Interpol has a half meter long file on your personal protection alone. Don’t get me wrong, Juan. I’m not here to—’

‘Santa Maria! So you’re with Interpol?’ Garcia looked nervously at Dulac, then turned and discreetly shot a quick glance at his bodyguards sitting behind him.

‘Let’s just say I have access to certain privileged information.’

‘Every rich man in Venezuela is a kidnap target. Protection is not an option.’

‘Precisely. And I’m sure you’ve hired the best.’

‘I’m still alive.’ Juan smiled, showing two front teeth separated by a singularly wide gap.

Dulac tried to be reassuring, ‘Juan, I swear this has nothing to do with you. I want some names, that’s all.’

‘Sure. Names. Of course. Why didn’t I think of it? Russian, Italian or Jewish mafia? Which do you want?’

‘Not funny.’

‘Interpol! Who would have thought? Anyway this target of yours, I presume your party can’t get him out the legal way because of the lack of an extradition treaty?’

‘Dead-on.’

‘And who is this French fugitive of justice?’

‘Let’s just say he’s wanted in at least two jurisdictions for extortion, kidnapping and murder.’

‘Sounds like pretty big game.’

‘The biggest, and out of season.’

‘Let me get this straight, Dulac. If I understand correctly, you, an Interpol agent, are asking me to furnish you with, with mercenaries?’ Garcia smiled derisively.

‘Absolutely not.’

Garcia blew a long whistle through his gapped teeth then laughed. ‘I didn’t come here to get insulted.’

‘Relax, relax, my friend.’ Garcia put up a hand in protest. ‘Don’t be offended. Like Dylan said: “Times, they are a-changing”.’

Garcia turned towards his men and gave them a short palm down signal of his right hand. Facing Dulac again, he continued. ‘Even if I had such contacts, it would be very, very expensive, my friend.’

‘Money is no object. Including your finder’s fee.’

‘I was getting to that. But tell me, my friend, why isn’t Interpol taking care of this? Or for that matter, the French Sureté? They’ve done some extra-curricular work like this before.’

‘It’s a complicated story, but my party chooses not to use the official routes.’

‘I know someone at Mossad.’

‘Out of the question.’

Garcia looked suspiciously at Dulac. ‘This is not some religious, Islamic thing, is it?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Not exactly?’

‘I can only tell you that my principal’s motives are personal, not religious.’

‘The last thing I need is a fatwa on my head.’

‘No chance.’

Garcia leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. ‘This game you’re playing is very dangerous, my friend. I don’t want to think of what happens if you miss.’

Before leaving, Garcia had given Dulac a name: Eric Roquebrun. ‘He’s good, but he’s a handful to control,’ warned Garcia.

‘Tell me more.’

‘He’s a great tactician, but in the heat of battle, he’ll do everything to
get the job done.’

‘Isn’t that good?’

‘He’s got some collateral damage to his credit.’

‘Don’t you have someone else?’

‘Sure, but he’s temporarily unavailable.’

‘How temporary?’

‘Could be a while. Ahmed is doing life in Beirut on three charges of rape and four counts of murder.’

Back in his apartment, Dulac phoned Gina.

‘Again? But Mr Dulac, you’re still suspended. I can’t access…. If they find out I gave you access—’

‘Gina, they need you more than they need me.’

‘I don’t know, I….’

It had cost Dulac a massage and pedicure at Lyon’s upscale body shop, Chez Chloe, to get Gina to do another summary Interpol database search.

‘Eric Roquebrun, 46 years old, ex CRS, ex “Force Tactique”, fired for sexual harassment of a 26-year-old woman recruit and the brutalizing of two members of his unit. Last known address: Casier Postal 4800, Marseilles. Box closed for non-payment on renewal. Current
whereabouts
and employment unknown.’

Just the kind of man you’d want your sister to marry, Dulac thought.

After his futile search for Roquebrun’s whereabouts, Dulac phoned Garcia and convinced him to have Roquebrun contact him. Roquebrun agreed to meet Dulac at Chez Aurélie, one of the seizieme
arrondissement
’s more discreet and intimate cafés. As he sipped his glass of chilled rosé, Dulac kept reminding himself that behind the mercenary’s
mustachioed smile, sad droopy eyelids and wire-framed spectacles, resided not a benign university professor about to admonish his student, but a battle-hardened killer out for the pleasure of the hunt and the spilling of human blood.

‘You must understand that de Ségur is to stand trial in France. He’s no good to me dead, otherwise the deal is off. Is that clear?’ Dulac said.

‘If he’s hiding out in Belize, he’s got a lot of locals on his payroll. There’s bound to be collateral damage,’ said Roquebrun.

‘That’s your problem. Alive or no deal.’

Roquebrun twisted one of the ends of his mustache for a moment, as if to think more clearly. ‘I can manage that. Any satellite photos?’

‘Yes. We’ve identified four buildings, smack in the middle of the Mayan Mountain Range: one main and three smaller houses, the whole thing surrounded by a barbed wire fence, probably electrified. He’s got a generator plant supplying the power. He has a helicopter at the
north-east
end of the compound.’

‘He lives well.’

‘That’s a matter of perspective. Self-imprisonment has never held any great appeal to me.’

‘He’s undoubtedly bought a lot of tolerance from public officials and a lot of protection.’ Roquebrun looked squarely at Dulac. ‘For this operation to be successful, Mr Dulac, we need two things: the
non-interference
of the Belizean police and the element of surprise.’

Dulac bit into the cold and overcooked bavette steak. He put down his knife and fork and summoned the waiter. ‘Garçon, you dare call this steak? Take this, this rhinoceros hide back and get me something edible, a salmon filet or something. Surely you can’t overcook that?’

‘Yes sir, I mean no sir,’ said the contrite waiter.

Dulac turned to Roquebrun. ‘What about men? You have your, your—’

‘Mercenaries, Mr Dulac, mercenaries. That’s what we are. I need two days’ notice to round up my team. They’re enjoying a bit of R and R, after we hammered the piss out of those Colombian buggers.’

‘Anything to do with the Ines Botalla rescue?’

Roquebrun looked around warily at the rest of the café’s patrons. ‘Officially, no. Unofficially, yes,’ he whispered, taking Dulac into his confidence.

‘I’m impressed.’

‘That cost the French government $20 million US, including the payments to the Colombian government. Your clients’ pockets better be deep.’

‘How deep?’

Roquebrun paused, stared at Dulac, and twisted the other end of his mustache. ‘We’re talking say, $22 million US here.’

‘Rather steep.’

‘Inflation, you know.’

‘I’ll need confirmation from my principal. Shall we say a couple of million down payment, and the rest when you deliver de Ségur to the French police?’

Roquebrun burst into the hard laughter of the humorless man. ‘You’ve got to be joking. In this kind of business, it’s 50 per cent down, or no deal. We’ve got a lot of up-front expenses: reconnaissance work, coordination and field equipment, payments to facilitators.’

‘$11 million is a lot of expenses.’

‘It’s my ass that will be fired at, Mr Dulac. Not yours. Take it or leave it.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Dulac got up to leave.

‘À bientôt,’ said the mercenary, giving Dulac a surprisingly soft, almost effeminate handshake. ‘Call me.’ He handed Dulac a small piece of folded paper.

Dulac walked away quickly and soon melted into the hectic flow of Parisian pedestrians.

Back at his apartment, Dulac phoned Legnano.

‘Timely that you called, Mr Dulac. We have just received payment instructions from de Ségur. Payment is due in three hours, but that is not your problem. You calling me means that you have found someone, Mr Dulac? That you accept?’

‘Yes.’ I must be insane, Dulac thought. ‘A certain Eric Roquebrun.’

‘And you have checked him out, so to speak?’

‘He’s been referred by an acquaintance. We don’t have time to—’

‘Of course. I understand.’

‘And what is his … fee?’

‘$22 million US. $11 million now and the rest upon delivery of the goods.’

‘What? That’s unacceptable. We must pay de Ségur and now this? And without any guarantees?’

‘Monsignor, believe me. These people don’t negotiate. Or give any guarantees.’

‘But what proof do we have that he can deliver?’

‘You mean other than his sordid reputation?’

‘I see.’ Legnano paused for a moment.

‘And how exactly will this Roquefort—’

‘Roquebrun, your Eminence.’

‘—Roquebrun eliminate the threat?’

‘The plan is he and his men will capture and abduct de Ségur and bring him to France. When de Ségur is in custody, the Vatican can negotiate with the French authorities for a lesser sentence in exchange for his keeping quiet. You’ll have the cards, this time, your Eminence.’

‘We, Mr Dulac, we are to negotiate?’

‘I suspect you have a little more clout with the French Minister of Justice than I do.’

‘That’s a high price for only part of the bargain. We want the threat eliminated, Mr Dulac, not postponed.’

‘Your Eminence, I may be suspended, but I’m still an officer of the law. That’s the best I can offer.’

There was a pause, and Dulac almost hoped Legnano would refuse. ‘I’ll get back to you, Mr Dulac.’

‘His Holiness will see you now,’ said the assistant secretary to Cardinal Gonzales.

Gonzales entered the papal library and walked to the far end of the room.

‘My dear Gonzales, you are looking well. How are you?’ he said as he rose to greet the cardinal.

‘I’m getting acclimatized to the rarefied atmosphere of the inner Curia.’

‘I warned you: acceptance takes time. How did the transfer from Cardinal Brentano go?’

‘I, well, there are still many files that I’m not—’

‘It’s not going smoothly?’

‘I would have liked more help. He says he’s too busy with his new functions.’

‘I’ll have a word with him. And the other Curia members?’

‘Just courteous.’

‘Normal. They don’t know you. How was their reaction to my agenda?’

‘Not good. They’re talking about deposing you, on grounds of heresy and insanity,’ said Gonzales.

There was a moment of silence. ‘So rumor has it. I’m not entirely surprised. Who exactly?’

‘Sforza and Fouquet,’ said Gonzales.

‘From Fouquet, to be expected. Sforza is disappointing. I thought he would support at least some of the changes. What were the others’ reactions?’

‘Legnano was neutral. And Signorelli would let you proceed and have the ecumenical council overrule you. He thinks that you’ll have to bend to its wishes, or risk being deposed.’

‘Ah, Legnano. He’s smart. He’ll wait to see which way the wind blows before taking sides.’ He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. ‘So they want to depose me? What small minds surround us, Gonzales. But I have a surprise for them.’

‘A surprise?’

‘Monsignor, when one embarks on such a bold venture, one needs the help of destiny. But you see, sometimes even destiny needs a little push, a little nudge.’ He blinked a knowing eye towards the Colombian. ‘Let’s see what we can do to help it.’

Gonzales continued. ‘There’s another matter.’ ‘Yes?’

‘With the Curia’s approval, Legnano has given a mandate to inspector Dulac to have de Ségur captured and brought to justice. Legnano wants to eliminate the threat permanently.’

Fouquet, his brown hair disheveled, his complexion flushed with anger, swept into Legnano’s office. ‘I won’t send them. Not with what we know.’

‘You haven’t sent them yet? Monsignor, you must send out the writs of convocation as instructed. You have no choice,’ said Legnano.

‘But if we depose him….’

‘You can’t hold up the convocation waiting for the results of any removal procedure. Canon law is clear. If you refuse to send them, I must act in your place.’

‘I see,’ said Fouquet. ‘Then will you begin the procedure to depose?’

‘You know better than to ask that, Cardinal. I am still the Secretary of State. I am, until otherwise legally and properly advised, the executor of his wishes. I am bound.’

‘I interpret that as a negative.’

‘This discussion is closed, your Eminence,’ said Legnano. He was about to escort Fouquet to the door when the phone on his desk rang. He hesitated.

‘I’ll see my way out,’ said Fouquet.

‘Yes, your Holiness, I’ll come immediately,’ said Legnano. As he made his way to the papal library, Legnano felt the wheels of destiny starting to move and gather speed. The incline was getting steeper and the
momentum
, if not checked, would be soon unstoppable. The opposing camps were starting to form. The division he had predicted was already there, could already be felt. The conservatives and the progressives were drawing clear battle lines, something they had, in recent times, never been forced to do. An ominous, open conflict within the Church seemed inevitable. If anyone in the Vatican understood the Church, with all of its faults and human frailties, it was he. His beloved Church was under attack, and if necessary, he would defend it to the death. Upon becoming a cardinal, a Prince of the Church, he had vowed to do so.

‘You wish to see me, your Holiness?’ said the cardinal, as he entered the papal library and walked towards the prelate, sitting at his desk. Legnano stared for a moment at Perugino’s painting of the Resurrection of Christ looming – perhaps prophetically – overhead.

‘Yes, Legnano. Please be seated.’

Legnano pulled up one of the spindly-legged uncomfortable chairs.

‘I’ve heard some rumblings about a movement to depose me. You are
aware of this, Cardinal?’

‘Your Holiness, I… Yes, I am aware that….’ Legnano fidgeted nervously with his rosary.

‘There is no need to be evasive Legnano. I know Sforza’s and Fouquet’s position.’

I’m sure you do. Gonzales must have run into your office right after the meeting, thought Legnano. ‘Your Holiness, I must say I did find the agenda, how should I say—’

‘Heretical?’

‘No, I wouldn’t go that far. But it is quite drastic. Some would even say, revolutionary.’

‘Drastic times require drastic measures, Legnano. These changes are long overdue.’

For a man under personal attack, with the threat of deposition
hanging
over his head, the Pope seemed remarkably calm, thought Legnano.

‘Actually, I’ve called you on another issue. Apparently, you’ve given a mandate to someone concerning the diary?’

Legnano fumbled for words, ‘Ah, you see your Holiness, I—’

‘Shouldn’t I have been consulted first on this delicate matter?’

Legnano felt his face reddening. ‘We, we didn’t want to implicate you.’

‘I see. And what exactly is the nature of this mandate, Eminence?’

‘I’m about to give the mandate to Inspector Dulac, your Holiness. A mandate to remove de Ségur. Unless we eliminate the threat, he will continue to blackmail us forever. We have no other choice.’

‘So our role in this is precisely what?’

‘We are providing additional financial support to Interpol’s agent, Dulac.’ Not really a lie, Legnano told himself, just looking at the truth from a slightly different perspective. ‘He in turn will organize de Ségur’s capture. Since Interpol has a warrant for his arrest, we can always argue that it’s Interpol’s exclusive responsibility.’

‘Sounds extremely risky, Cardinal. What if this goes wrong and someone traces the mandate back to you?’

‘Impossible, your Holiness. We’ve taken every precaution against that possibility.’

‘Tread very carefully with this, Legnano.’