The Geneva Decision (22 page)

“I’m sorry, Alphonse. It’s just that I have to be sure.”

“No, no. I understand. I will be in Vienna anyway. I have the reasons to trace Marot’s planned meeting. And then there is the opera.”

“The opera?”

“Oui. Mme. Marot is not just the fan, she is also the big supporter of the state opera. She made many financial commitments to funding them, yet many payments are not made. Capitaine Villeneuve thinks there could be the motive there.”

“Her husband stopped her philanthropy so she killed him and four others?”

“Sometimes we just do what our capitaine says.”

“I’m sure my employees think I have dumb ideas too.” Pia glanced down the aisle at Tania. “Say, Alphonse, when you were in the army, where were you stationed?”

“London, Oslo, Berlin, and so on. I was the NATO liaison.”

Pia felt her stomach squeeze tighter. “What do you know about Elgin Thomas? Do you have any background on him?”

She could barely speak much less hear his answer. Her voice had betrayed her and she knew it.

“Only that he was on the calendar of Clément Marot,” Alphonse said. “Are you all right? You sound tired.”

“Fine. Did the other banks have too much money like Banque Marot?”

“Capitaine Villeneuve sent in the
juricomptable
—ehm, the forensic accountants. No report is expected before the next week. Oh, and she is ready for the help of Sabel Security, but she has the minor concern.”

“I’ll have the Major work it out with her. I have to go.”

They clicked off.

Pia didn’t like the feeling of that call. She thought about what she’d learned from their conversation. Everything fit Elgin Thomas, yet nothing was definitive. He just didn’t feel like a killer to her, but then she had no real experience interrogating killers. Besides, Alphonse backed off when she confronted him. Was that genuine? Or did he have other means of finding her?

Oh, god—the phone.

Pia called the Sabel Security communications team and ordered them to turn off the GPS system on the phone she gave Alphonse, a safety precaution she kicked herself for not taking earlier.

She trusted Alphonse—just not completely. But should she trust him at all? Damn! Pia pounded her fist on the table.

Tania and Monique craned around their seats to look at her. She shrugged.

Tania caught Monique’s gaze. She said, “Boyfriend trouble. You know how it is.”

Monique nodded and looked back at her cards.

Pia called the Major next and filled her in: her conversation with Alphonse and Villeneuve’s willingness to work with them, her abduction of Monique, Conor’s death, and Monique’s planned meeting with le Directeur, as well as the gender confusion.

“For all we know, Elgin Thomas is le Directeur,” the Major said.

“A bank executive isn’t going to run a pirate organization from that far away.”

“So maybe Conor ran the pirates, and the phantom banker came down from Geneva on paydays.”

“The banker would have to have investments in Cameroon that justified business trips,” Pia said.

“Possible. I’ll check it out on this end.”

“What about the female voice who told Monique she was le Directeur?”

“Girlfriend, voice changer, hired help—who knows?”

“We know Monique has a meeting,” Pia said. “I’ll make sure she’s there. We’ll see who shows up.” She paused. “Did you get more agents out of Berlin?”

The Major cleared her throat. “Well. Uh. We have a problem in our Berlin office. Of the six employees we had, four resigned when your father appointed you. We have one agent who was in a car accident and has a broken leg, and we have the business manager. He was a male nurse before coming to Sabel. No field experience. Never fired a gun.”

“Guess Tania and I will figure it out.”

“I sent the nurse—I mean business manager. Extra eyes and ears if nothing else. He arrives on a late flight this evening.”

Pia said, “And I have more experience with firearms than he?”

Chapter 32

Vienna, Austria

27-May, 1PM

T
he limo dropped them in front of the
Wiener Staatsoper
, the Vienna State Opera. Tania and Monique seemed mesmerized by the magnificent stone building.

“Holy… This is the real thing, right?” Tania said. “Those towering arches with little angels up there, they represent stuff—themes from operas. Heroism, tragedy, fantasy, comedy, love.”

“Come on,” Pia said. “We don’t want to be conspicuous out here. We get checked in, then we do the recon, then we catch le Directeur or whoever shows up to pay off Monique.”

“Won’t Elgin Thomas be here too?” Tania said. “He was supposed to get cash to pay off Mustafa, al-Jabal or whoever. His boys killed Ezra. He’s the one I want.”

“Either way, one will lead us to the other.”

They made their way around the opera house to the Hotel Sacher. While Pia checked in, Monique and Tania stared at the marble cherub in the lobby center. Above it hung a chandelier of crystal and brass. Their eyes swept the ground floor, taking in the white marble walls with red marble trim, the life-sized bas-relief sculptures of ancient Greek goddesses, the glass vases four feet tall. Beyond the lobby was a wood-paneled parlor filled with exquisite antique furniture and more chandeliers.

Pia booked the best penthouse suite and two extra rooms. Snapping her fingers before the eyes of her awestruck companions, she broke their trance and led them to the elevators.

The bellman led them to the top floor and stopped in front of double doors engraved
Zauberflöte
.

“Hey, that’s named after a Mozart opera.
The Magic Flute
, right?” Tania said.

Tania and Monique waltzed in first and wandered through the suite. It had a yellow and white living room with antique furniture. The bellman opened glass doors to a balcony that wrapped around two sides of the top floor.

“Whoa, this is incredible,” Tania continued gushing. “Look at that, Monique; they got a red marble fireplace in every room. The red kind is the most expensive, comes from Egypt or something. And did you see those bathrooms? Marble tub, marble sinks, marble showers. Hey, Pia, you sure know how to live. What do our rooms look like?”

“You can stay in here if you’d like,” Pia said. “I’ve got the room across the hall next to the elevator.”

“You shittin’ me?”

Pia dismissed the bellman with a generous tip.

“If the bad guys get ahead of us, they’re going to come in here and shoot up the place,” she said. “Sleeping in here, nice as it is, could be bad for your health.”

“I’m OK with that,” Tania said. “If I have to die, may as well be on sheets like this. What about you, Monique? There’s two bedrooms in here. Hell, the beds have those four poster curtain things on them. You could rip off a triple before they even stumble across a couch in the dark.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Pia said. “Hey, Monique—you OK? You look a little green.”

“I can’t do this,” Monique said.

Pia stepped in front of her and looked down. She said, “You sent two teenagers to kill me and they failed. That means le Directeur is going to kill you before she comes after me. At least, she’s going to try. You’re going to pull yourself together and help me win this.”

Monique sank into a silk-covered chair, her face in her hands. She looked up, panic-stricken, her voice near hysterical. “I can’t do it! I’m scared. I’ll ruin it. She’ll kill me! I can’t—”

“You think these guys were planning to let you live?” Tania said. “You’re what killers call a loose end. If they win, you’re dead. It’s just a matter of time.”

Monique stood up, trembling, terrified—and defiant. “I’ll run.”

Pia put an arm out and held Tania back.

“They already told you they would kill you if you didn’t kill me. They were going to kill you anyway, maybe your family too. You’re not going to run, you’re going to lead us to le Directeur. I’m going to take them down and turn him or her over to the police. After that, you can go back to Douala and live the rest of your natural life without looking over your shoulder.”

“I should have killed you myself—”

Pia grabbed her hand and jerked hard. Monique’s body twisted and flew over Pia’s right hip, sending the woman crashing to the floor. “You can’t. And neither can they.” She gave Monique a hand up. “I only play to win.”

Monique got to her feet, turned her back and hid her face in her shoulder.

“You’re going to make a couple calls, sit in a coffee shop for twenty minutes, and I’ll do the rest,” Pia said. “I broke up the gang in Limbe. Now they’re weak and wounded I’m going to mop them up here in Vienna. I’m your best chance at staying alive. Just do your part and you’re on the next flight back home.”

Monique stared at her. Tears welled and rolled down her cheeks.

“Go ahead, have a cry,” Pia said. “Then pull yourself together—Tania and I have to find Kaffeehandles and figure out some details.”

Monique sniffed, wiped her face on her sleeve, and headed for the bathroom.

“See, that’s what most people do when they know they’re going to die in a couple hours,” Tania said. “Fall apart. Monique is normal. She’s freaking out. That’s what Eric was talking about. But he was wrong about you. You know you’re going to die and you’re all chill. You got a gift, girl.”

“Shut up,” Pia said.

Half an hour later
she strolled up Karntner Strasse in a black T-shirt, black leather jacket, and black jeans. Tania wore a Bundesliga hoodie pulled up over her hair. After asking around, they determined the Kaffeehandel never existed—it was a general term, not a specific shop.

They found a bench in the shopping district. Pia told Monique how the call should go, what she should say. Monique nodded like the condemned and pulled out her phone. Pia and Tania linked into the call, but le Directeur sent her to voicemail. Pia took Monique’s phone and sent a text.

Am in Vienna. Where do we meet?

Several minutes later the reply came back.

You failed.

Pia texted:

No. Delayed. Will finish tonight. You can verify. Final payment required.

They waited twenty minutes for the reply:

Instructions coming at 10PM tonight

“What took le Directeur so long?” Tania asked.

“Guess they had to confer,” Pia said.

They went to the hotel and ordered dinner. Silver service arrived in the suite’s dining room with all the pomp and ceremony one would expect from a top hotel. Tania ate with abandon, Monique picked at her food.

“What am I going to tell her?” Monique said.

“We went over this,” Pia said. “If they want to kill me you can lead them to me. I’ll be looking up and down Karntner Strasse for a place called Kaffeehandel.”

“Then le Directeur will kill me?”

Chapter 33

Geneva, Switzerland

27-May, 4PM

A
quamarine skylights and windows marked the architecture of the most modern gendarmerie the Major had ever seen. She and agent Miguel were ushered through its long hallways by a short middle-aged man who introduced himself as Lieutenant Berardi. He’d been asked to translate for Capitaine Carla Villeneuve.

He led them to her office. It was an interior space that might have been a utility closet pressed into service for her temporary assignment. Capitaine Villeneuve sat at her desk, typing furiously on a laptop. Berardi took up a position beside her desk. Fluorescents filled the space with both light and a low buzzing noise. Villeneuve nodded at two steel chairs and the Major took a seat. Agent Miguel stood to one side, slightly behind her, mimicking Berardi’s posture.

The Major took a quick look around the office where medals and certificates were propped on shelves. The awards were in French with recognizable words like
Sauver
and
Alpinisme
. As Mme. Marot had warned them, Villeneuve was a decorated mountaineer, not a murder investigator.

Villeneuve stopped typing with a flourish and looked up at the Major.

“What can we do for you?” Berardi asked.

The Major spoke slowly, allowing Berardi time to translate.

“We came close to catching Mustafa Ahmadi yesterday, known to you by the name al-Jabal. We followed a slim lead and discovered a good deal about his associates. We’re here to offer our services to the canton of Geneva.”

Berardi talked with Capitaine Villeneuve at length, more than the Major’s preamble warranted. Once they settled things, Villeneuve smiled at her guests.

“As a matter of formality, we need to confirm the arrangement,” Beradi said. “We understand Sabel Security is offering assistance free of charge?”

“Sabel’s fees will be paid for by Ms. Sabel directly.”

“Why?”

The Major explained Pia’s anger at the attempt on her life as well as her desire to remain independent. The two officers conversed. Again the conversation seemed longer than necessary. Then Capitaine Villeneuve smiled and leaned back.

“The canton gratefully accepts your generosity,” Berardi said. “We look forward to working with you. Naturally, there are some ground rules. First, you will work independently and not with any officers already investigating the tragedies. Second, you will report directly to the Capitaine at ten in the morning every day to disclose what you have learned. Third, you will not act on behalf of the canton or as officials in any capacity. Is this understood and agreeable?”

The Major looked directly to the Capitaine. “Yes, ma’am.”

Capitaine Villeneuve glanced at Berardi, then dropped her eyes to her desk. After gathering her thoughts, she looked up and spoke.

“One last thing,” Berardi translated. “She hates to mention this, but it is important to Switzerland that your agents be careful. The last time Sabel Security helped Geneva, a store owner was beaten and shots were fired indiscriminately in an alley and later from the bridge.”

“No shots were fired by Sabel Security personnel,” the Major said. “Mustafa fired on Ms. Sabel on the bridge. I returned fire using only darts. Sabel Security personnel caused no damage and presented no public danger. And your store owner was aiding the fugitive.”