Final Justice (Lorne Simpkins thriller (Book Three))

by Mel Comley

  Ironic and unfair!

  Chapter Five

  When the travel alarm her father had given her, filled the room with more noise than its size suggested it was capable of, she woke abruptly and banged the button to turn it off. Her eyes had trouble focusing, the last time she’d looked the time had been five-fifteen. Wow! A full hour and a quarter sleep!

  She tried to stretch out the knots resulting from sleeping in a strange bed, but her body refused to respond, it creaked and groaned as much as the bed itself. She slapped herself around the face a few times. ‘Come on Lorne, wake up, there’s places to go and people to see.’ She threw back the duvet and headed for the bathroom.

  Half an hour later, dressed in jeans and a jumper she entered the hotel’s dining-room. Tony was already tucking into his breakfast at a table in the centre of the room. She pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, when she looked at his plate and noticed the size of his breakfast her stomach clenched uneasily.

  ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Does it look as though I have?’

  He looked up, took a brief look at her, shook his head, and tucked into his meal again. ‘Sorry. Anyway, I’ve ordered you a full-English. Hope you don’t mind, there’s no telling when we’ll get to eat again, and, as this is on Interpol’s expense account I thought we should make the most of it.’

  ‘Thanks, but no thanks. For a start, I don’t over-indulge first thing, and for another, aren’t you in the wrong country for a full-English?’ she asked, looking around the pleasantly decorated dining room, purposefully avoiding watching Tony stuff his face faster than some people can finish a glass of water.

  ‘You could do with fattening up, Lorne,’ he said, through a mouthful of sausage.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning, that you’ve lost a hell of a lot of weight since I last saw you.’

  ‘And?’ She scowled.

  ‘And, it ain’t healthy. Dare I say you look scrawny, borderline anorexic even.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Tony. You’re talking out of your backside. It’s called hard work and exercise. You want to try it sometime, might help get rid of your double chin.’ She reached across the table and tickled him under the chin and made the excess flesh wobble, emphasising her point.

  ‘Really, Lorne, joking aside, you need to put some pounds back on, hon.’

  A waitress appeared at the table and placed a plate in front of her that was stacked as high as the Eiffel Tower they’d passed the day before. Lorne’s eyes grew wide, almost popping out of her head at the amount of food she was expected to eat. She looked up at the girl and said, ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t eat this. Can I have a croissant and orange juice instead?’

  The waitress smiled, shrugged her shoulders and left the table empty-handed. Lorne wondered if she’d seen amusement in the woman’s eyes. ‘Um, excuse me. Just a minute…’

  ‘Waste of time, Lorne, they don’t speak the lingo. Just eat what you can, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Oh, is that right, well you seem to have found a way of being understood. Or maybe someone had a word with her, bribed her into pretending she didn’t understand English. I recall seeing a documentary about France last year that reported the French people, both young and old alike, revel in showing off how much of our language they know. Funny that!’ She poured herself a coffee from the cafetière sitting in the middle of the table and waited for him to answer.

  ‘Whatever. Now, are you going to eat that breakfast, or am I going to have to force feed it to you? The punters round here won’t mind, they’re used to seeing that kind of thing, instead of duck or goose foie gras, it’ll be human, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s disgusting, and you wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘The choice, as they say, is yours. Do I, or do you?’

  She picked up her knife and fork and reluctantly began tearing at a piece of overcooked, shrivelled, bacon.

  ‘That’s, my girl. When we met last year, I knew you were a woman crying out to be handled firmly.’

  ‘Believe what you like, bully boy. What time are we due to meet with the Interpol agents?’

  ‘At nine.Just enough time for another helping.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’ Lorne said horrified, she looked down at her bulging plate and fought back the nausea threatening to surface.

  ‘Yes, I’m kidding. Jeez, lighten up will you? I don’t recall you being so gullible.’

  Lorne pushed the food around the plate for another half an hour, and felt relieved when the car arrived to pick them up, giving her a reason to get away from her breakfast. With their overnight bags stored in its boot, the car set off through the rush hour traffic. Luckily, the head office of the National Gendarmerie was only a few kilometres away at rue St Didier in the XVI arrondissement of Paris, and their trip was over in next to no time. The driver pulled up outside the building and flicked on his hazard warning lights. After walking them inside, he introduced them to the receptionist, bid them farewell, and then disappeared as swiftly as he’d driven them there.

  The complexities of her ornate surroundings made Lorne gape, open-mouthed. The marbled columns that stretched up like long limbs, reached as far as the eye could see. Granite steps regally led up to several different galleried levels, and light streamed in from an enormous glass dome high above to flood the reception area.

  ‘Pretty impressive, huh.’

  ‘That’s one word for it I guess,’ Lorne replied, feeling similar to how Charlie had the first time Tom and she had taken her to Alton Towers theme park.

  ‘Ah, I see you are admiring our architecture, monsieur, madame,’ a tall thin man remarked, he wore a navy blue suit, and a guarded smile. To the left of him stood a younger, fair-haired woman, who matched Lorne’s height and build. She wore a suit cut in the same material as her male colleague.

  The man’s smooth velvet tone shocked Lorne for a moment, it was like listening to Jacques all over again. Don’t be so absurd girl, you’re in France, it’s the way French people speak.

  ‘I am Capitaine Michel Amore from Interpol, and this is my colleague, Lieutenant Rene Levelle. You must be Monsieur Warner, but I feel at a disadvantage, as I am unaware of your name madame.’ He shook Tony’s hand with a firm shake, and then surprised Lorne by shaking her hand limply. She detested a counterpart treating her differently, even more than she hated the thought of swallowing a live oyster. But then, she’d resigned a year ago, so he could no longer be described as her counterpart, could he?

  ‘It’s Lorne Simpkins, Capitaine.’

  She made a point of looking into his deep blue eyes, and wondered if she’d spotted a look of recognition when she’d told him her name.

  Tony spoke next and offered the reason for Lorne’s inclusion on the case. ‘Lorne has been on the trail of this guy for the last eight years or so.’

  The Capitaine’s shoulders straightened and the smile disappeared from his rugged, sun tanned face. ‘Ah, Detective Inspector Simpkins, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘You’ve heard of me?’

  ‘Oh yes, madame. You are, how do you say in English, ah yes, notorious!’

  Lorne shuddered, unnerved by the smirk that had appeared on his face. What the hell, does he mean by that, notorious? She figured all would be revealed soon enough.

  Chapter Six

  The meeting finally drew to a close after an hour and a half, during which time Lorne hadn’t uttered a word. Why? No one had bothered to ask her opinion and she had chosen not to volunteer anything. The only significant detail about the on-going case in France that the Capitaine was willing to divulge, was that two men had been found murdered.

  Arrangements had been made for them to head off to Caen, Normandy, the area where Robert Baldwin was said to be flaunting his wealth and power, straight after lunch.

  As they approached the reception area again, Tony steered Lorne by the elbow, coming to a halt alongside one of the marble columns. ‘What the hell was that all about?’ he whispered, h
oping not to be overheard by the officers milling around them.

  She wrenched her arm from his grasp. ‘I don’t understand why you’re so angry, Tony, or for that matter, what the hell you’re referring to.’

  ‘Jesus, Lorne, what has gotten into you? Where’s the spunky Lorne gone? A year ago there’s no way that bloke would’ve gotten away with disregarding you like that. What the fuck is going on?’

  ‘If you don’t like it then I suggest you put me on the first plane home, and let me get on with sorting out my garden, something I know I’m good at.’ She glared at him and felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention.

  Her voice had grown louder, attracting a lot of attention and officers in uniform eyed them with suspicion. Tony hooked his arm through hers and led her out of the building, he spotted a café opposite and marched Lorne towards it. ‘All right, you’ve got my attention and that of half the French National police. What gives, Lorne?’

  She watched him shake his head in confusion. She felt confused by her involvement, and why Tony had brought her to France. ‘That man in there, the Capitaine, implied that I don’t belong here, and it got me thinking maybe he’s right.’

  ‘We went through all this before we boarded the plane to come out here. I need you on this case with me. I need your expertise.’

  ‘The way I remember it you turned up on my doorstep and within a few hours I was flying to France. You didn’t even give me time to think about it, Tony. You didn’t give me a chance to say get stuffed, I don’t want to know.’

  ‘C’mon, Lorne, you know bloody well it wasn’t like that.’ He looked hurt and she felt like biting her tongue off. He was right, it hadn’t really been like that at all, it just felt good to turn the tables on him.

  ‘Anyway, what bloody expertise. You’re far more experienced than I’ll ever be. I resigned from all this crap, remember?’

  ‘But why?Why all of a sudden, Lorne?’

  ‘All of a sudden … you uncaring bastard. Maybe it dawned on me that life’s too short to be constantly dealing with men who despise women, both at work and the criminals we try to bring to justice. I had to put up with shit from a particularly supercilious Superintendent for years, a man who’d sooner walk the other way than say good morning to me. I see the same traits in Capitaine Amore, he made it perfectly clear in there that I had no place on this case. Maybe you’re right in some respects, perhaps my feistiness has dwindled over the past year. I’m just a bloody housewife, Tony. Actually, I’m not even one of those. I’m one of the three million unemployed in Britain today.’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, you’re nothing of the sort, Lorne. Why are you being so down on yourself?’ he asked, as the waiter arrived with the two café au laits he’d ordered.

  ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you, or anyone else. I’ve changed, perhaps it took being involved in this kind of environment again to really thump it home to me. I don’t want, or need, to be part of this kind of set up anymore.’

  ‘Come off it, Lorne. Do I have to remind you about the conversation we had when we found your father after Baldwin had kidnapped him?’

  ‘No.’ The word came out far sharper than she’d intended, but she wanted to stop him dragging up memories she’d fought for months to try and forget, the ones that prodded her conscience when she least expected it and filled her dreams, when she actually managed to get any sleep.

  ‘Well that’s tough, because I’m going to, anyway. Revenge, you swore that you’d get revenge.’

  Feeling like a teenager being reprimanded for shoplifting, she shrugged. ‘You know what they say, Tony, words are cheap.’

  ‘That’s right, and if anyone else had said that I might’ve believed them, but not you.’

  Out of nowhere tears welled up, and the cup she’d been gazing at became fuzzy. As she lifted her head to look at him a tear slipped down her cheek. She saw him close his eyes, which left her wondering if he regretted his harsh words, his hand slid across the table and covered hers.

  ‘Lorne, come on, if I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, I can’t help you, can I?’

  ‘Have you ever lost anyone you’ve loved, Tony? Truly loved, I mean?’ She rotated her cup in its saucer as she watched the changing expressions flicker across his face.

  ‘Yes and no,’ he said.

  ‘When I say lost, I mean, died. Have you lost them from your life altogether.’

  ‘No, I can’t say I have. I know where you’re going with this. You reckon I can’t possibly understand what you’re going through. That isn’t the case, girl. In my line of business the death of a colleague is a regular occurrence, and while I’m not saying you ever get used to it, I’m trying to make you understand that it makes you a stronger person. A much stronger person, one who adapts to living their own life in a more fulfilling way.’

  There was a moment’s silence as she mulled over his words.

  Tony spoke again and this time his words arrowed in on the truth of how she felt about her life, and what it had become. ‘You want to know what I see, Lorne? Well, you’re going to hear it anyway.’ He paused long enough to reach over and lift her chin up. ‘I totally understand where you’re coming from, babe, but now is the time to let go and to stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself. It’s been a year, a whole year, since Pete and Jacques died. It’s time to move on.’

  ‘That’s a little simplistic even for you, don’t you think?’

  ‘You need to, love, for your own peace of mind, and for health reasons. I’m not here to lecture you, but looking at you, someone needs to give you a kick up the backside. Maybe you’re feeling this way because The Unicorn is around again, perhaps he has stirred up old feelings you thought were forgotten. What do you say, do it for me, huh? Do it for Pete and Jacques up there.’ He pointed to the ceiling of the café. ‘Ask yourself this, if you were the one murdered by The Unicorn, do you think they would pass up the chance to get revenge?’

  Could her need for revenge really undo the past? She shrugged her weary shoulders and nodded. ‘I guess not. I’m sorry to burden you with this, Tony, I feel such a fool.’

  ‘Hey, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?’

  ‘I promise from now on, I’ll be a different woman. But how are we going to get over the fact that Capitaine Amore doesn’t feel comfortable with me on the case?’

  ‘You leave that side of it to me. And Lorne, welcome back, love. Now let’s go catch ourselves a Unicorn.’

  Chapter Seven

  Baldwin paced around the lounge, taking it in turn to either kick or throw things out of his way. ‘I won’t say it again, Julio. The man’s a fucking idiot and I want shot of him.’

  ‘Boss, I’ll deal with him, it was a mistake, that’s all.’

  ‘Mistake my arse. The man is a liability. I said deal with him.’ He saw the fear glint in Julio’s eyes and a surge of pleasure at the knowledge of his dominance ran through him.

  ‘I’ll see to it straight away, boss.’

  ‘Be sure to let the others see the outcome.’ Baldwin cut the end from a ten inch Cuban cigar and lit it, signifying their conversation was over. ‘What?’ he demanded, sensing Julio wanted to say more.

  ‘Just one more chance, boss. If we get rid of him, we’ll be a man down, and at this late stage, we won’t get the chance to find a replacement.’

  Baldwin stepped forward blowing smoke in the other man’s face. ‘Not trying to protect him are you, Julio?’

  ‘No, boss, but…’

  ‘But, he fucked up. I gave clear instructions how I wanted those bodies disposed of, and he couldn’t even do that. Don’t forget he was the one who screwed up the flights last week, and he cocked up the vehicle exchange on the last job.’

  Julio opened his mouth to speak, but Baldwin gave him a sharp look, and he quickly closed it again.

  Baldwin smiled when he saw a look of resignation register on the Spaniard’s face, ‘You all know
what the consequences are for failure … Now, get rid.’ As Julio turned to walk out the room, his shoulders slouched, his boss added, ‘String him up from the tree in the courtyard, and don’t forget to make sure the others witness it.’

  Baldwin turned and walked across the room to the French doors, throwing them open he inhaled the autumn fresh air, and a calmness he’d never known before washed over him. At forty-eight he finally felt at home, he no longer needed to envy the filthy rich because now he had joined the elite club. The huge chateau, and the five million pound yacht anchored in the South of France, was evidence of that. "Living the dream" yep, he certainly was, and this final venture would ensure that dream never slipped away. And they say crime doesn’t pay!

  The money had already started to trickle in, and in a month’s time, he’d be known as the world’s richest man.

  * * *

  Julio walked into the kitchen where he found several of the men playing cards at the large oak table, a basket of croissants and pain au chocolat in the centre. One look at his face and the men knew something was wrong.

  ‘Hey, what’s up, Julio?’

  With a heavy heart Julio explained to the four men what needed to be done. Without argument, or hesitation, the group threw down their cards and set off to find Benji. They found the prankster of the unit in an adjacent room, engrossed in a game on his PlayStation. Terry grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him to his feet.

  ‘Hey, what the fuck, Ter— ’

  Mario, Benji’s brother, carried on playing as though nothing had happened.

  ‘Mario, help me.’ But Mario remained glued to his seat, refusing even to make eye contact with his kid brother.

  The four men dragged Benji through the back door and into the large gravelled courtyard, his arms and legs thrashing violently at those around him, but his efforts proved pointless.