by Peche, Alec
Names and brief descriptions were called out as someone had searched some databases. None of the men had criminal records so it was a matter of their physical characteristics. Marie went to work using her informal information gathering sources to begin framing the facts about each of the men.
“Mr. Jacobs has been in business twenty years. After nearly losing his business in the worldwide recession five years ago, his business is doing better, and in fact, he recently opened a second location. He is married with grown children. His wife was very ill, but she is doing much better after getting treatment for a rare cancer in Paris. We might want Jo and Ms. Bernard to probe his finances.”
“I now understand why my American counterparts gave you such glowing references,” Dubois observed. “I am impressed with the speed at which you have found details on this man. Would you like a job with Interpol?”
As the laughter died down, Marie moved on to the second person. “The second person is related to the Russian diamond company consortium member. He is a nasty customer rumored by the Russian police to have killed miners who complained about working conditions in Mirny, Siberia, the location of their largest mine.
“The final gentleman is employed by Interpol, Russia. I don’t know what his role is there, but he lives in Russia, and I can’t comment on why he was on a street in Antwerp.”
Marie was looking at Dubois while she spoke, and watched a look of sad resignation cross his face.
“Let’s get all three names to Jo and Ms. Bernard, so they can focus on their financials,” said Jill, skidding to a halt in her speech. “Excuse me Officer Dubois and Inspector Willems for trying to take over your operation, and I’ll apologize now for any future transgressions of taking command of your investigation.”
The Russian Interpol agent identification was the elephant in the room. It was like a bad case of indigestion, where no one wanted to be the first to burp. They all wanted Dubois or his superior to comment first.
“Apology accepted. And this is not a problem, I will just attribute it to the reputation you Americans have of being pushy. It also happens that I agree with your direction. Let’s pull them back into this room for a few minutes to brief them. After that I would like to research the Russian Interpol agent,” said Dubois, making eye contact with his superior from Lyon.
Jo, Ms. Bernard, and a third accountant returned to the conference room and were briefed on the men in the picture.
Jo pondered, “What are the odds that we would capture that meeting in a vacation picture? Equally intriguing is how our fake security man knew we had the picture, especially since we ourselves didn’t know the picture was relevant. Of course, this could all be speculation on our part. Maybe the answer is in one of the other twelve pictures. If this is the important, do you think our Russian agent in the Interpol office informed one of the three men of the investigation into Laura’s death, and he remembered seeing us on the street in Antwerp? Angela, did you recognize the fake hotel security guy in any of your pictures?”
“That is good question. I’m going to study the pictures again, but none of us had a sense of familiarity when we looked through the pictures the first time. Then again, we weren’t looking for him, either.”
Again they looked through the photos, but none of them could visualize any of the faces as belonging to that man.
“I’m anxious to find the financials on Mr. Jacobs,” Jill said. “If there is anything there, perhaps the police could bring him in for questioning?” She couldn’t seem to stop herself from telling the police how to manage their case. At least she managed to zip her lips before giving them suggestions on how to handle the rogue Russian Interpol agent.
“If you folks can avoid asking too many questions that distract our train of thought,” said Jo, thinking aloud, “I believe Ms. Bernard and I could sit in this room and run through the documents while everyone listens to our conversation, and views the documents on screen. If you understand how we are looking at the numbers, it might cause you to think of some other thread to follow in this case.”
Dubois had put a trace on the Russian Interpol agent and Mr. Jacobs. If they had decent information in the next hour, they could make a move on both men. Since there were potential leaks in his organization, he was trying to avoid alerting any more Belgian police or Interpol agents other than the ones in this room. Because of the work of his secret committee, he had requested and individually received affirmations that they would keep their findings confidential. They could reach Antwerp in under an hour if it became necessary to round up the men. Regardless, his agency would do further review of the Russian agent. He nodded to Jo and Ms. Bernard to proceed.
The two women huddled over a laptop, swiftly bringing up records. The tax return for Mr. Jacobs showed the increase in property taxes for the second store. Health care costs were not a line item, so they could not view the cost of the special care in Paris. Both the current and prior tax year showed a significant increase in revenues related to sales. A quick glance at the prior five years showed sales had increased 1 to 3 percent each year, yet in the past two years, sales had increased 30 percent. Something very unusual was going on with the chocolate store's sales. It was odd enough that they could bring him in for questioning. As Jo and Ms. Bernard were having their conversation in front of the group, law enforcement would be better prepared to question their suspect.
“Does everyone have time to talk about the finances of Laura, Chloe, and one of the six consortium members?” asked Ms. Bernard. “Unfortunately, we didn’t start with the Russian company –it’s one of the African companies. Jo has been very helpful in analyzing what the tax statements are really saying, beyond just the straight numbers.”
“Yes, please proceed with your explanations,” responded Officer Dubois.
As you know, both Laura and Chloe operated under a variety of aliases. Laura actually filed tax returns under three of her aliases, and no return was found under the name Laura Peeters. One of the names, Julie DuPont, was the one found in her purse at the time of her death. It seems to be the most active name, with tax returns going back over a decade and a home address of Antwerp. Her other two aliases had addresses in Brussels and Mechelen. She went to considerable effort to keep all of the identities active, though some of the documents must be forged as the finger-prints would have identified her, and indeed, that confirmed her identity in the morgue, according to the autopsy report.
“Each of the identities was related to diamond industry occupations, as one of the tax returns listed appraiser, another had her owning a jewelry store, and the final alias said she sold diamond-cutting tools to businesses. Perhaps the extensiveness of these identities is what allowed her to remain free during her many years of thievery. As for the Laura Peeters identity, she filed a death certificate shortly after that first heist, so the tax collector shows her as deceased. She used the aliases to buy property, among other things. Her driver’s license and passports had to be forgeries since fingerprints are required for those documents and she could not provide unique prints. She was entitled to pensions and had different medical records for each identity.
“We correlated the documents left by Laura on the chip to the thefts and the tax documents. It appears that her private thefts were laundered through her own jewelry store rather than the consortium. She poured profits from her jewelry story into her charity.
“What we can tell is she worked for the consortium for over a decade. We think she offered her services to them rather than them seeking her out. We don’t believe the consortium members knew of her identity as Laura Peeters until recently.”
“Why do you believe that they didn’t know her real identity?” Willems asked.
“In looking at Laura’s documents with the consortium, there is not a single mention of Laura Peeters. You might guess that is because her name is dead, but there was use of the other aliases including names that she killed off in the beginning. If they found out her birth name recently, that might
have angered the original employer that she stole diamonds from, but none of the consortium members would have been impacted.
Jill interjected, interrupting everyone’s train of thought on the names. “In thinking about this case from the beginning, one of the facts that mystified me is why she had swallowed diamonds hours before her murder. The other mystery is who sat her up in the hospital, ending her recovery from anaphylactic shock. Those features of her death have puzzled me, so is there any connection to the Russian consortium member or Laura’s original employer, and do we know how recently she was in her own retail shop before her death?”
“Dr. Quint, I am also puzzled by those questions," replied Willems. With this new information from the financial review, I agree we should search her shop – she should have video surveillance, which may provide some clues. I would also like to know if Chloe Martin had a role in the shop. Have you located anything about her financial records yet?”
“My brain needs a break from looking at numbers,” said Jo while rubbing her temples. “I believe Ms. Bernard can follow up on Chloe’s records, and it sounds like Interpol and the Belgian police are going to make a visit to Laura’s diamond shop and Mr. Jacobs in Antwerp, which will take several hours. I think that my friends and I should stop at a shop for picnic food and head out to explore the Sonian Forest. Should we meet back here this evening to review the findings?”
The Belgians had still not gotten used to the Americans’ ability to shift so quickly from vacation mode to crime-solving mode and back to vacation mode. They had barely moved from contemplating the various names and occupations that Laura had functioned under, and their connection to the Russians.
“Excellent idea, Jo,” said Jill, standing up and gathering her belongings. “Inspector Willems, Officer Dubois, what time would you like to reconvene today? I assume you will lose time commuting back and forth to Antwerp. We can set a time now, or you can text me once you’re done in that city.”
“I don’t like the idea of you wandering around in a forest. It offers plenty of places for bad people to do you harm,” warned Willems.
“We don’t seem to be safe anywhere in this city except in this office building and we are not going to stay here until we depart,” Jo countered. “We have Nick and Nathan, and if you would agree to again take us out of here in a paddy wagon, and make sure that no one follows us, what are the chances that they will find us in the forest? Slim, and that is good enough for me.”
Just like that the meeting broke up. The six friends were escorted to the same garage as the previous night to catch a ride courtesy of Interpol. After driving around a bit, just to insure that no one was following them, the driver stopped at his favorite café where they purchased food and wine for the picnic ahead. They got back in the vehicle and headed for the forest.
“Let’s eat first, then Nick, perhaps you can direct us to your favorite parts of this forest,” said Angela. “And of course, I want to try your camera for some pictures of this glorious fall foliage.”
Nick led them to a picnic area and they set out their supplies on a table. Nathan had chosen the wine and proceeded to uncork the bottles. It was the perfect spot, exactly where they all wanted to be at in this moment. There was something magical about Mother Nature’s majesty in the form of the vivid colors and blue skies that surrounded their flawless setting.
“Wow. Thanks, Nick, for telling us about this beautiful spot.” Jo said. “My headache has evaporated and my mind is being cleansed. I’ll have fresh eyes when we get back to the conference room. Tell us about this forest. It has something to do with Napoleon. Did it belong to France at that time, or was it just occupied?”
The afternoon evolved into lazy friendship, lots of pictures, a few history lessons, and casual strolling through the many pathways amongst the trees. There had been no discussion of the two murders or diamonds all afternoon. A nearby small chapel that through the ages belonged to monks was so peaceful. It was no wonder that they called the forest, “The Lungs of Brussels.”
Sooner than anyone expected, Jill received a text from Officer Dubois with a meeting time in two hours. “They must have quickly found new information from their excursion to Antwerp.”
“It would be nice to wrap up the case before we leave tomorrow,” said Marie. “Let’s hope they have new information on both the consortium and on Laura’s jewelry shop.”
“Should we head back into the city now and stop at a pub near the Interpol building?” Angela suggested. “I’m always looking for opportunities to try more Belgian beer.”
“We could do that, but I’ll have to substitute a diet cola for the beer,” Jill said. “After the interruption to our sleep last night, this fabulous afternoon in the forest with the fresh air, great food and wine, and most of all, friendship, I’m afraid I might fall asleep after drinking any quantity of beer.”
“You are always such a lightweight with beer!” exclaimed Jo. “Let’s go find two taxis and head back to the Interpol building. We can find a pub to relax in close-by.”
“Ladies, let’s have the taxis drop us off about three blocks from the Interpol building,” Nick recommended. “If anyone is watching the building for you, let’s not make it easy. While you’re having a drink, I am going to do a quick reconnaissance of that building just to make sure it is not being watched. If it is, then we’ll call for the paddy wagon to make it safely inside.”
Nick’s comment jarred everyone. For a few hours in the forest, the women had forgotten that a murderer might be looking for them.
The group piled into two taxis and Nick gave both drivers an address three blocks from the Interpol building. Shortly thereafter, they arrived at their destination and noted a pub down the street. Nick saw them inside the pub and then left to begin surveying the area around the Interpol building. When he had left the hotel that morning, he didn’t know what the day would bring so he had chosen a reversible jacket and hat in case he needed to alter his appearance at some point. He made those switches in appearance before setting off for Interpol.
Nick started with a view of the street directly in front of the entrance to Interpol. He then backed up and examined each of the feeder streets to that main street. He was fairly alarmed with what he saw – men on each of the feeder streets loitering, with frequent glances as though they were doing their own surveillance. Nick’s changed appearance and that fact he was a party of one rather than with a party of four women allowed him to go undetected.
He pulled out his mobile phone and called Dubois. “This is Nick Brouwer. We’re back in the city and the women are at a pub about three blocks from your building. I left them there to survey the area to be sure they would be safe entering the building. I believe I have found a surveillance man on each feeder street to Avenue de Cortenbergh. Can you send a paddy wagon for the women? Second, I would be pleased to identify the men to your staff, if you would like to send them to me.”
“Nick, that was good thinking on your part. I am in traffic returning from Antwerp. Give me the name and address of the pub that the women are at and I will send an armed escort for them. Inspector Willems has a tactical group that will work with you on these men let’s see who we can round up.”
Nick texted Jill to tell her they should remain in the pub and expect an escort from Interpol.
Back in the pub, Jill shared the news with the others that the building entrance was being watched, but they would be safe as Dubois was sending a vehicle for them. They all toasted Nick’s wisdom in surveying the street.
Nick met the tactical team two blocks away from the surveillance men. He had snapped a picture with his cell phone camera of each man he found suspicious and proceeded to show the pictures to the team. The team would capture the men and bring them in for questioning. A separate part of the tactical team would survey the surrounding buildings, looking for anyone conducting surveillance.
A little over an hour later, seven men were in custody, and likely two had slipped away before captur
e. All seven were from Europe – Belgium, The Netherlands, France, and Germany. They all spoke English and were being questioned by the team.
The larger group reconvened in the conference room. They had gained significant new information thanks to their interviews in Antwerp.
“Let’s start with Laura’s store,” said Dubois. “It is being operated by her staff. After Laura’s death, Chloe stepped in to keep the store operating. The staff had not been notified that Chloe was killed last evening. They were unaware of who would inherit the store in the future and gave the name of Laura’s attorney and accountant, whom we are interviewing by phone as we speak. We have no way of knowing if the goods that are presently in the store are stolen or were purchased. The staff loved working for Laura and it looked like the shop was prosperous, which of course it should be if you do not have to pay for all of the stones that are in these dazzling settings.
“Interestingly, the staff was told by Chloe that Laura had died from her nut allergy. They were shocked to learn she was murdered. We closed the store for now until we can learn who inherits it and whether it is fencing any stolen jewels. The chocolate store was on the next block from Laura’s store.
“Mr. Jacobs was very interesting and he broke down very quickly. In the end, I don’t believe he’ll end up serving time given the great duress he was under. He was approached by a man with a Russian accent about a year ago. His wife had just been diagnosed with a rare cancer. Soon after her diagnosis he did some research and found a hospital in France that had experience with her cancer. He corresponded with the hospital, but knew he could not afford to take his wife there. The Russian man entered his store with an offer he could not refuse. He wanted Mr. Jacobs to bake some special chocolate for Laura with nuts in it. He refused. The Russian’s next offer was that he would add nuts, and Mr. Jacobs was just expected to sell the pieces to Laura. He refused a second time. Then the Russian described his wife's routine for the past two weeks. He threatened to kidnap her and withhold the cancer medicines that she was taking. If he would cooperate, not only would his wife be safe, but they would have the funds to send her to Paris. He quickly succumbed to the threat but required that his wife complete her treatment in Paris first before he would sell chocolate to Laura that would kill her if she did not get treated in time. He knew of the allergy and the EpiPen she carried. He thought in the end she would have uncomfortable moments, but she would survive, as she had told him about prior allergic reactions she’d had.”
