by Estelle Ryan
“I don’t know.” And I really didn’t want to mention my suspicion.
“I’m thinking it is her drug supplier.” Francine was twirling a strand of hair around her index finger while looking at the monitors. “Yes, I think that these names are the distributors linked to the big supplier in the green square.”
“We have no evidence of this.” That was why I didn’t want to say anything. I did, however, feel even stronger about my theory now that Francine had said the same.
“Then what do you call that?” Francine zoomed in on one of the squares where Adèle had written, ‘round face, rainbow village’. She highlighted a name and place on her list, an ID photo next to the name. “You cannot tell me that man doesn’t have a face rounder than the moon. And rainbow village? You will not find a more colourful place in France than Colmar. Which is only sixty-four kilometres from Strasbourg, I might add. And see here?” She pointed at the column where she’d made notes about each person. “Ol’ Gerard Roux has a criminal record. For what you may ask? Drug dealing, of course!” She threw her hands up in the air.
I ignored her theatrics. “We need to confirm more than just one description before making any statements as if they were facts.”
“Ooh, let me do that.” Her fingers were already moving over her tablet screen. “This is going to be such fun.”
“So somebody sent these crates of liquid heroin in wine bottles with labels that have the information of people she”—Manny glared at Francine—“thinks are drug dealers.”
“I’m right, handsome.” Francine didn’t stop working. “Just you wait and see. I’ll confirm that each one of these people has some connection to the drug trade.”
“Why the bleeding hell would someone send those names?” Manny pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Why would Adèle steal those bottles? Bloody hell, people!” He lowered his hands, both curled into tight fists. He got up and looked at Daniel and Colin in the back of my room, then at Vinnie standing in the doorway. “Why the bloody hell are you just standing here? This is not good enough. We have nothing pointing to the killer. Nothing that gives us motive as to why those kids were so brutally killed. I thought you were all so good at what you do. Right now, you’re not looking like the crack team everyone thinks you are.”
“That’s fucking it.” Vinnie stalked into my room, his arms away from his torso. Before I could warn anyone of his intent, Vinnie pulled his fist back and punched Manny hard in the stomach. The air rushed out of Manny’s lungs and he folded double, his arms around his torso. Blackness immediately entered my peripheral vision and I sat frozen in my chair. Vinnie leaned closer to Manny, his aggression bringing on even more blackness. “I don’t care what the fuck is wrong with you, but you don’t get to take it out on them.” He bent even lower so he was eye level with Manny. “You wanna hurt someone? You wanna make someone pay for whatever is eating at you?” Vinnie tapped his cheek with the scar. “Punch me. Right here. I can take it. But you don’t fucking hurt them.”
“Bloody hell.” Manny’s voice was strained, his movements jerky as he put his hand out and lowered himself into his chair. His breathing stuttered as he rubbed his hands hard over his face before looking at Vinnie. “I...” His voice broke.
“You’re screwing up, Millard.” Colin’s gentle tone softened the harsh words. He waited until Manny looked at him. “We’re your family. Let us be there for you.”
“And stop being such a stubborn idiot.” The exhaustion and stress of the last few days now appeared much stronger on Francine’s face. She swallowed and looked at me. “I’ve been telling him to share. But his stiff upper lip is making him an idiot.”
I frowned and studied Manny. “His upper lip is quite normal.”
There was a moment of silence before everyone laughed. Humour had not been my intention at all, but the break in hostility had the added benefit of the darkness receding.
I was still looking at Manny. If I wanted to do as he said and find the killer as well as motive, we needed to focus. And I knew my friends well enough to be convinced it would only happen if this situation was resolved.
I also desperately wanted the agony visible in Manny’s nonverbal cues to disappear. So I took a deep breath and moved my chair closer. A frown pulled his eyebrows together as he watched me take another breath and move even closer. I was breaking my own rule of maintaining a personal space of fifty centimetres. I was sitting so close to Manny I could feel his body heat. “What happened?”
Manny stared at me. Then he looked down at the proximity of our chairs. The tension in his face softened. The sigh he uttered was heavy and defeated. “The idiots at Interpol decided I don’t have enough work.”
“You’re being sarcastic.”
Manny grunted. “They assigned an elite task force to me. They didn’t want me to run it, just to oversee it. The only problem with this bloody task force was they were all green and arrogant. Yes, they were the top of their class, but all of them were green.”
“Green means inexperienced,” Colin said quietly and I nodded.
“I told the bosses I don’t have time to babysit, but they wouldn’t listen.” Manny rubbed his hands over his face again.
It was quiet in my room. Vinnie hadn’t moved far from Manny, but all his aggression was gone. Instead, compassion flooded his face. Francine was sitting behind me and I could hear her shallow breathing. She needed comforting as well.
“You said ‘they were’.” The tense had been telling.
Manny closed his eyes and nodded. When he opened his eyes, he looked at his hands. “The bosses wanted to send the team on an assignment. I told them these guys were not ready. I also recommended they were split up and put in more experienced teams so they could learn. But no. The bleeding idiot of a young leader convinced the bosses I’m too conservative.”
“You are.”
The corner of Manny’s mouth lifted slightly, but he ignored Vinnie’s teasing. “They sent the team in to extract someone they thought was the leader of a growing extremist group. I helped them plan the op, but they resisted running through it again and again. Twice was enough for these arrogant idiots.”
I waited, but Manny didn’t continue. His lips tightened even more and he didn’t lift his eyes from his hands.
Colin took a step away from the cabinets. “Only two of the six team members came back alive. The extremist group was holed up on a farm in the south of France. Their security was better than the team had expected. They saw Millard’s guys coming from a mile away. When I went hunting for those artefacts, I got in touch with my contacts at Interpol. They told me everything.” He leaned towards Manny. “I’m sorry, Millard.”
Manny nodded and straightened. “Now the bloody bosses want to blame the two survivors. They can’t blame me, because my conservative recommendation is official through an email to all of them. Those kids were not ready. The two who made it out barely did so. Already they have to carry the weight of their decision to follow their leader and go against me. Blaming them is not going to solve anything.”
Francine got up, pushed Vinnie out of the way and sat down on Manny’s lap. She ignored his protests and cupped his cheeks in both her hands, forcing him to look at her. “I’ve told you before and I will tell you again and again. This is not on you.”
“You think you could’ve done something different?” Colin’s laugh held no humour. “I have first-hand experience of the authorities at Interpol overriding any logical reasoning and making you do what they think will make them look good. Fortunately for me—and for them—it worked out. No matter what you did or said, they would’ve sent those men out, Millard.”
“Manny won’t tell you, but he’s fighting to keep the two survivors from being prosecuted.” Francine didn’t take her eyes off Manny, her affection for him impossible to miss.
“And you’re grieving for them.” I narrowed my eyes. “On your own.”
Manny snorted. “And I’m screwing up even more.”
“Aw, old man. We’re family. We forgive you.” Vinnie held out his arms. “Wanna hug?”
In a shockingly uncharacteristic move, Manny rolled his eyes like Nikki. “Bugger off, big guy.” He pushed Francine from his lap. “Enough of all this drama. We have work to do.”
Francine poked Manny in the shoulder. When he looked up at her, she widened her eyes and nodded towards us. I didn’t know what message she was trying to convey, but Manny must’ve understood. He sighed heavily. “I was out of line. I apologise.”
“Bloody hell!” Vinnie’s fake British accent was jarring. “You can’t do that! Don’t apologise, good man. Now I can’t punch you again.”
Colin chuckled and Francine blew Vinnie a kiss. Manny just ignored him, but the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth gave me comfort. I moved my chair back and Manny’s smile widened. “So, do we have any actionable intel, Doc?”
“Oh, thanks for asking.” Vinnie’s smile was genuine when Manny turned to glare at him. “As a matter of fact, I have intel. Before our run-in with our Iranian friends, I got a call from a CI. He told me three of his buds died in a car crash yesterday. These guys were into everything: guns, drugs, explosives, even wet work.”
“They’re assassins?” Daniel asked.
Vinnie nodded. “My CI said they were hired to scare some people off, but then they crashed their SUV. The dumb bastards had explosives with them for some other deal and—”
“It exploded on impact.” Colin ran his fingers through his hair. “They were in the SUV that chased us.”
“All the details matched,” Vinnie said. “I asked, but my CI didn’t know who hired these guys.”
This was interesting information, but not useful. I studied Vinnie’s expression. “You know something more important.”
Manny scowled. “Speak.”
“Remember this morning when you were being an asswipe?” Vinnie shrugged. “Well, you were being an asswipe because I was being an asswipe.”
Manny only stared at Vinnie.
“Well, you see, I had this little plan.” Vinnie walked back to the door, leaned against the frame and held out a small round device between his thumb and index finger.
“A button cam?” Colin’s eyes widened, then he laughed. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” Vinnie’s chest puffed. “I swiped a couple from Franny’s desk. When I was getting all touchy-feely with Shahab and Amin, I planted these babies on them.”
Manny jumped up. “Holy hell! Do you know what you did?”
“Yeah.” Vinnie smirked. “I found a way we can track these Iranian assholes and find out what they’re up to.”
“No.” Manny put his hands on the top of his head. “You created an international incident.”
“I don’t think so, handsome.” Francine was once again sitting next to me, busy on her tablet. She replaced photos on two monitors with maps of Strasbourg. “We’ve been able to track their movements.”
“You’re in on this too?”
Francine’s look of innocence was outrageously fake. “Of course. You were being an idiot.”
Manny closed his eyes and shook his head. “Bloody hell. What do you have?”
“We can’t get audio and visual outside a radius of seventy metres, but we can track their location for up to fifteen kilometres.”
“Did you make any recordings?” I would love to see the footage.
“I didn’t place them well.” Vinnie grimaced. “I had to do it quick and thought that any location might be better than nothing. So I put it under the collars of their jackets where they won’t be seen quickly.”
Francine nodded. “That and the fact that they’re wearing their outdoor coats over their jackets pretty much eliminates all audio and visual.”
“But you have their location?” Manny asked.
“Yes.” Francine looked at the maps, her eyes suddenly widening in excitement. “Oh, my God! Look at that. We have him!”
“What do you have?” Manny sat down and stared at the monitor when Francine zoomed in on the map.
“One of the button cameras went to Adèle’s house after they left the café.” She looked at me. “They were there for almost an hour.”
“Isn’t it still a crime scene?” Manny looked at Daniel.
“It is. Let me check.” He took his phone and swiped the screen. He lowered it towards us, the ringing clear over the speakerphone. It went unanswered. Daniel frowned. “Give me a second.”
He left the room, none of us speaking.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Vinnie rubbed his chest.
Francine’s phone pinged and she lifted it to read. “Well, now we definitely have to speak to the Iranians again.”
“What do you have?”
“My contacts got back to me about the vineyard that sent the crates of extra-special wine.” She paused dramatically. “Yeah, they’re registered as a company that also does a lot of contract work for NAJA.”
“The Iranian police.” Manny slumped in his chair. “This is just getting worse.”
“But this is interesting.” Francine smiled at me. “The company’s name is Fereydoon Farrukhi Industries.”
I blinked. “FF. The two letters in the centre of Adèle’s chart didn’t stand for her business Freedom Fragrances.”
“It stood for Fereydoon Farrukhi—the Iranian company.” Vinnie scratched his head. “What was she doing with the business model for this company?”
“We have a problem.” Daniel stood next to Vinnie, his face pale. “An officer told the officers stationed at Adèle’s house that he was relieving them, so they left. He was wearing a uniform, spoke flawless French, but looked Arabic.”
“Impersonating an officer?” Francine’s eyebrows were high on her forehead. “That’s already bad enough. But an Iranian cop posing as a French cop? Ooh. Really, really bad.”
“Bloody hell.” Manny’s whisper was loud in my room. He pushed himself up. “I need to speak to the president.”
Chapter EIGHTEEN
“AND I SUSPECT ADÈLE planned to put the heroin in the paint, then use a 3D printer to mass-produce these paintings and sell them to distributors.” Colin sat back as he finished his part of the briefing.
President Raymond Godard’s eyebrows rose. “Would that have worked?”
“Possibly.” Colin thought about this. “She would’ve needed a great chemist to make sure the paint-drug mixture is correct and also the way they would extract the drug would have to be very precise.”
Manny, Colin and I were in the president’s residence here in Strasbourg, where he had also his office. It had a very similar design to the Salon Doré, or the Golden Room in the Élysée Palace in Paris, an office that had served as the personal study for many French presidents. The gilded filigree on the walls, doors, tables and chairs made the name of the room self-explanatory, as did the ceiling-to-floor golden curtains. Everything in this room was a work of art, including the chandelier above us and the beautiful ceiling.
We were seated on wingback chairs at a round table next to the president’s antique desk. It had been only two and half hours ago when Manny had called the president and had revealed our findings.
The president had assured us that Amin, Shahab and Hamid would be here when we arrived. They were currently waiting in the adjoining conference room with the Iranian ambassador. The president had insisted on first getting all the information before walking into a conversation that could have devastating political and economic repercussions for both countries.
He looked at Manny. “Tell me everything you found out about the men next door.”
“We don’t have much.” Manny grunted in frustration. “They entered the country eleven days ago—a day before Adèle was murdered. They rented a charcoal-coloured SUV at the airport, using a credit card issued to a company registered in Iran.”
“The same company that sent the wine?”
“No. This company is more transparent. They do all
the arrangements for accommodation and transport for official trips by Iranian law enforcement officers.”
“Was that SUV the one that was pursuing Colin and Genevieve?”
“We’re not sure.” Manny had uttered a few rude phrases in frustration when we’d not been able to find a lot more information. “The car that blew up was definitely not the one these guys rented. I got the Iranians’ GPS information from the rental company. They’d successfully manipulated the car’s system to show they were only at their hotel, at shopping malls and a few tourist sites. We were also not able to find much information on them personally. My sources tell me that it’s most likely because they’re not on anyone’s watchlist.”
“Well, why don’t we go and speak to them and find out more.” President Godard got up and we followed him to the door connecting his office to the conference room.
It wasn’t a large room, but the high ceilings created the impression of space. The dark wood of the rectangular table in the centre of the room was highlighted by the bright white walls and classical décor.
The leader of the three men, Amin, was sitting at the table next to a middle-aged man. Both men got up when President Godard entered the room.
President Godard shook the older man’s hand. “Ambassador Sirvan Kanian. Please forgive me for making you wait so long.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all, President Godard.” His smile was genuine. He liked the president. “You know how I always enjoy our meetings. But I must say that I’m slightly perplexed as to why we are here.”
President Godard gestured at the chairs and we sat down. I studied the ambassador. The president had told us about this man. His Oxford education was evident in his accent as he spoke English. We were also told that he was highly intelligent and, despite being open to many trade and cultural agreements, he was still very conservative.
“We’ll get to that in a second.” President Godard introduced himself to Amin. “Where is the rest of your team?”
“They’re waiting in the reception area.” The ambassador answered before Amin could. “We thought it would be best for only their team leader to be here.”
