Dark Return

by DV Berkom

  “I live nearby and was on my way home when I saw you out walking. I had no idea that you were familiar with this section of Paris.”

  “I’m not, really.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I just met a friend for a drink and I needed to clear my head.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, I’m glad to run into you. I wanted to thank you in person for warning me away from Rashad at the park. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “No worries. When the adrenaline kicks in it’s a natural mistake. But it’s one that could get you killed.”

  “Well, again, thank you. I’ve so much to learn. Did you manage to find out anything from his killer?”

  “Some.” She didn’t mention she’d had to kill him, There hadn’t been anything in the news about his body being found, at least not yet. She figured the bombing and subsequent hunt for the terrorists kept otherwise newsworthy stories from making it into the news cycle.

  “Will it help in your search for the girl’s handlers?”

  “I hope so,” Leine answered. Even if the information she gleaned from the assassin’s phone turned out to be a dead end, she would continue to follow what leads she could. Chessa and her mother’s deaths weighed heavily on Leine’s conscience, and she wasn’t one to give up easily.

  “Have you seen the news?”

  Leine nodded. “I assume you mean the coverage of the raid on the flower shop.”

  She widened her eyes. “I’ve never been part of such an operation before. Watching the police surround the shop in La Courneuve was surreal, knowing that I’d been there, that I was responsible for those deaths. Do you think the police will be able to track our involvement?”

  “All the witnesses are dead, so it’s unlikely.” All except herself and Valerie.

  “What about DNA? Would that not eventually be a lead they could follow?”

  “Doubtful. There won’t be any fingerprints since we wore gloves, and as far as I know I’m not in any DNA database. I would assume the same is true for you. Besides, the crime scene was a store that was open to the public. Our presence could be easily explained.”

  They neared an intersection and Valerie hesitated. “This is the turn to go back to my place. If you should ever need someone to work with, please don’t hesitate to find me. Henri will always know where I am.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  With that, Valerie turned off and disappeared down the quiet residential avenue. Leine continued in her original direction, headed for a hotel and a hot bath. She found it odd that Valerie had appeared at that moment. She wondered if the assassin-in-training had been practicing her tradecraft by following her. That would explain the earlier uneasiness Leine had experienced. She’d have to stay vigilant, in case she attempted it again.

  Three blocks later the tiny hairs on her neck prickled in warning, and an increased situational awareness came over her. She was definitely being watched. Her senses on high alert, she didn’t alter her stride. Every nerve, every fiber was coiled to strike and defend. Her head on a swivel, she scanned her surroundings and unholstered her gun. What game was Valerie playing?

  At the end of the block the silhouette of a man appeared briefly before disappearing into the shadows behind a tree. The glow from a nearby streetlamp fell short of illuminating his face. Leine slowed, assessing possible places for cover, awaiting his next move. It was late and the neighborhood was deserted, with only the occasional muted glow of a lamp behind a curtain.

  A rock skittered behind her. Acting on instinct, she dove for cover behind a concrete stoop and pivoted, pistol raised, expecting to find a second gunman.

  Valerie?

  At the same instant, there was a muted thud. The young woman’s head snapped back and her knees buckled. She collapsed to the ground, her arm outstretched. In her hand was a suppressed semiauto.

  Leine spun around and took aim at the dark figure behind the tree.

  33

  VALERIE’S LIFELESS BODY lay slumped on her back on the pavement, her left leg bent at an unnatural angle beneath her. Slightly off center, the small, dark gunshot wound marred her otherwise perfect forehead. Her open eyes stared unseeing at the sky.

  Mind racing, Leine shifted her position and looked past the concrete steps to see who she was up against.

  “Leine—Ava. It’s all right. You can come out.”

  Spencer? What the hell? Standing next to the lamppost halfway down the block, he unscrewed the suppressor on his pistol and pocketed it before holstering his gun. Then he raised both hands in the air. “I’m not here to kill you.”

  “Do I look stupid to you?” A pistol wasn’t the only way to kill someone.

  Hands still in the air, Spencer walked slowly toward her.

  Leine stood, keeping the concrete steps between them, and monitored his progress through her gun sights. “Remove your sidearm and place it on the sidewalk in front of you, then kick it away.” She glanced at the banks of windows nearby for curious onlookers. All were dark.

  Slowly, Spencer removed the gun with one hand before leaning over to do as she asked.

  “Kick it away.”

  He kicked, and the gun slid across the walkway, landing several feet from him.

  “Satisfied?” he asked.

  “Now the knife.” She gestured at his ankle with her gun.

  An annoyed look crossed his face as he bent over and pulled up the leg of his jeans, revealing a sheath attached to his ankle. He slid the tactical knife free.

  “Throw it next to your gun.”

  “She was going to shoot you.” He lobbed the knife toward the pistol, where it landed with a clatter.

  “And you know this how?”

  Spencer winced as though she’d hit him. “Ouch. I may be working as a glorified bodyguard, but I haven’t lost that much of my edge.” When Leine narrowed her eyes he sighed. “She was aiming at the back of your head, for starters. She had focus, I’ll give her that.”

  Leine tensed. Was this Henri’s doing? It had to be. Valerie wouldn’t attempt my murder on her own.

  Would she?

  Leine thought back to the would-be assassin’s actions and attitude. The younger woman had seemed genuinely grateful for the instruction Leine gave her. She’d asked pertinent questions and showed real promise. But it had all been an act and Leine fell for it, flattered by the empty words Valerie used to gain her trust.

  Never again.

  “Do you know her?” She nodded toward Valerie’s lifeless body.

  “Not personally, no. But apparently she knows you.”

  “How long have you been following me?”

  “Since you left the bar.”

  “Why?”

  Spencer lowered his hands, a sheepish smile on his face. “Because I thought you were going to meet someone and I wanted to see who you liked better than me.”

  “Shit,” Leine muttered.

  He grinned. “You didn’t see me, did you?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Holy shit. The Leopard didn’t see me coming.”

  “Oh, I knew someone was there, all right. I just didn’t know it was your sorry ass.” Irritated, Leine scowled at him. “Pull up your shirt and spin.”

  Still grinning, Spencer did as she instructed. “See? No more weapons.”

  “Except for the garrote you wear attached to the inside of your belt.”

  “Yeah, well, a little thank you might be in order here. I did save your sorry ass.”

  Leine walked over to retrieve his weapons and pocketed them before holstering her own. Then she returned to where Valerie lay.

  “Help me move her. We can’t just leave her on the sidewalk.”

  Spencer helped carry the dead would-be assassin into the shadows of a nearby doorstep and propped her against the building. Leine wiped Valerie’s weapon clean before pocketing it. She’d drop it in the Seine later. She scanned the darkened windows above them, searching for witnesses. She detected no movement
behind any of the blinds or curtains.

  “So who was she?” he asked as they walked away from the scene.

  “An assassin-in-training. One of Henri’s protégés.”

  Spencer didn’t say anything. Leine stopped and crossed her arms.

  “What?”

  He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. She shook her head. He found his lighter and lit the end, expelling a cloud of blue smoke between them. “If she was an ‘assassin-in-training’ as you say, then who sent her to assassinate you?”

  “Yeah. I get it. It’s Henri’s doing.” A nearby streetlight pulsed and went out, enveloping them in darkness. “I can’t let this go.”

  “His place is a fucking fortress, Leine. How do you think you’re going to get inside?”

  She looked through him, lost in thought. “There’s no way he just decided to sic Valerie on me for practice. If I know Henri, there’s money involved. A lot of money.”

  “You mean there’s a contract out on you.”

  “Yeah.”

  34

  LEINE REPOSITIONED THE Velcro on her tactical vest for a better fit and studied the area surrounding Henri’s building. It was early morning, and the sun hadn’t yet made its presence known, giving the neighborhood an abandoned vibe. The alley where she was parked had only a single working streetlight at one end, leaving the rest of the area in murky darkness.

  She’d been sitting inside her rental car for close to two hours waiting for him and thinking. Thinking about the knife’s edge she’d be walking if she continued down the road before her. She’d been here before. Back in the day her lover, Carlos, had made it bearable. Made it so she could avoid seeing the choices on offer as the morally bankrupt traps they were. Back then, she’d convinced herself of the rightness—the righteousness—of her actions.

  But she was different now. She required more. There was no trust, no decency, no honor in this life she’d been on the brink of choosing again. Valerie was a symptom, set in motion for profit by Henri, someone Leine had considered a long-time collaborator and partner. Yet again, cash was king. And even though Spencer saved her life that evening, he could have just as easily turned on her if the money was right.

  What kind of life was that?

  The parking lot was empty except for an old motorbike off by itself at one end. It wasn’t Henri’s—she remembered him railing against the dangers of motorcycles on more than one occasion.

  The French arms dealer had always been a creature of habit, which boded well for Leine. As Valerie had confirmed during their stakeout of the florist shop, he still stopped every morning at the same boulangerie he’d gone to for the last twenty years, still bought five fresh croissants—two chocolate, and three plain. Then he would brew his own espresso at the shop, using a high-end commercial espresso machine. Depending on his mood that day, breakfast would take two hours or more before he deemed it was time to work.

  She’d have to take him as he entered the shop. She didn’t plan to kill him right away.

  At half past five, a Sprinter van pulled up to the back door of the building and parked. Henri got out of the vehicle carrying a brown paper bag with the logo of his favorite bakery and headed for the door. Leine quickly scanned the area for passersby. There was no one visible. Sliding her 9mm free, she exited the car and eased up behind him. She waited until he’d opened the door before she let him know she was there.

  “Good morning, Henri.”

  He stiffened and his head snapped up. A microsecond later, his shoulders relaxed and he turned. “Leine!” he boomed. “So nice to—” The words died in his throat when he saw the gun.

  “Weren’t expecting me, were you?” She patted him down with one hand and removed a Glock 42 from a concealed holster in his waistband. She pocketed the smaller pistol and ordered him to raise his pant legs. He did and she relieved him of his backup pistol and a tactical knife, both of which she pocketed. She grabbed the bag of pastries and nodded toward the darkened hallway inside the door. “Let’s go.”

  “Put your gun away,” he said, testily. “Are we not friends?”

  “I used to think so.” Leine followed him into the building and let the door close behind them. “But real friends don’t exist in this business, do they?”

  Henri didn’t offer an immediate reply. The smell of chocolate and freshly baked croissants filled the space between them. He nodded toward the bag.

  “Whatever business you have with me must wait until after breakfast.”

  “I don’t think so.” She gestured toward the end of the hall with the gun. “Go. Now.” She glanced inside to make sure the bag didn’t contain anything that could be used as a weapon and counted five croissants.

  With a resigned sigh, Henri clumped down the hallway. When they reached the second blast door, he placed his thumb on the biometric fingerprint reader and then punched in a code to unlock the door. She followed him inside.

  They walked to the conversation area and she tossed the pastries on the coffee table.

  “Now what is this about?” Henri said, removing his coat. “In all the years we’ve known one another you have never threatened me at gunpoint.”

  “You’ve never tried to have me killed before.”

  He looked stricken. “I would never do such a thing.”

  “Then tell me why Valerie attempted to put a bullet in the back of my head.”

  “She did what?” His look of shock was a bit on the dramatic side.

  Leine kept herself from rolling her eyes. “Stop, Henri. Just...stop.” She sighed. “I don’t know what you stood to gain from having me killed, but I’m willing to bet it had something to do with the group responsible for the Notre Dame bombing.”

  “Now, now,” he said, putting his hands up. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.” He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the time before putting it back. “Valerie is due here in an hour. We will ask her then.”

  “Yeah. I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s dead.”

  Henri’s face drained of color. “She’s—dead?” He stared uncomprehendingly at Leine. “No,” he breathed. “Please tell me that she did not suffer.”

  “She didn’t.” She gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat. I need answers and you’re going to give them to me. Answers will keep you breathing.”

  Henri sank onto the divan, his expression blank. “She was a fantastic assistant. The best.”

  “Yes, well, you should have thought about that before you sent her to kill me.” Leine remained standing, her gun trained on him. “Was the contract your idea?”

  Henri produced a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He pulled in a deep breath and let it go. “No. Well, yes.” He held her gaze as he worried the fabric in his hands. “You must understand. The field is very competitive these days. Not like when you were at your peak. She needed a spectacular kill—one with distinction—before anyone would take her seriously.”

  “And that kill was The Leopard.”

  He had the good sense to appear ashamed. “Yes. Have you accepted any jobs in the last few years? I mean in the freelance arena?”

  Leine shook her head.

  “Ah. Well, independent contracts have become quite lucrative. Quite.” Henri pulled the bag of croissants toward him and retrieved one of the chocolate pastries before pushing them back toward her. Taking a bite, he closed his eyes in ecstasy.

  “Who ordered the hit?”

  Henri swallowed and licked his fingers. “You really should try one.”

  “Who, Henri?”

  “I don’t know her name.”

  “Her?”

  He nodded. “Not presently, anyway. In another life she called herself Salome.”

  “That’s not the first time I’ve heard the name.”

  Henri raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well, I’m not surprised. She’s got a—what do you call it in the
States?—a hard on for you. Something about you spoiling an operation of hers?”

  So—confirmation that Salome was alive and knew about Leine’s role in the Russian deception. That meant she had a contact in the Kremlin. The only other way she would know about Leine would be from Leine’s own government, which seemed remote.

  “How did you contact her?”

  He shrugged. “Through a friend. I’m afraid I don’t have a direct line.”

  “Give me the name of this friend.”

  “You know I can’t do that. He would never again trust me.”

  “And that matters to me because...?”

  “Because you need me. Your kind wouldn’t exist without someone like me.”

  “I think ‘my kind’ will manage.” Leine gestured with her gun at his pocket. “Give me your phone.”

  “No.”

  Leine took a step closer and aimed the barrel of the gun at his forehead. “Give it up, Henri, and I may let you live.”

  “But it’s my lifeline—my business.”

  “Which is why I need to see it.” She arched an eyebrow. “Are you going to give it to me or am I going to have to take it from you?”

  Resignation flickered across his face as he reached inside the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the mobile. He touched the screen with his thumb as he handed the device to her, minimizing an app.

  “What did you just do?” she asked, searching the icons. She tapped one that she didn’t recognize labeled HBI, and an app called “Hot Button Incorporated” opened to reveal a series of surveillance monitors with a red link underneath labeled “Emergency.” The first monitor showed the outside entrance to the building. The second pictured the hallway before the turn to the last door to Henri’s warehouse. The third one showed five gunmen in tactical gear forming up outside the blast door. She glanced up sharply. “What the—”

  At that precise moment a series of loud clicks could be heard as the locks disengaged and the massive steel door to the warehouse swung open. The black-clad gunmen swarmed into the cavernous space, the red dots of their tactical lasers dancing against the walls.

  Someone shouted and the gunmen released a fusillade of bullets aimed at Leine. Henri rolled off the couch onto all fours and scrambled across the floor toward the back room. Shooting as she moved, Leine vaulted behind the couch. The upholstery and couch frame wouldn’t stop a round from the automatic rifles they were using but it might slow them down if they couldn’t see her. She rolled to a crouch, ejected the empty mag, and slapped in a full one.