Staring at the woman, both men sensed there was something more she wanted to add to the story. “What else Geneviève?” Guy asked.
Licking the coffee from her top lip, she paused before answering. “It’s possible this Italian also has information on Hector,” she muttered, glancing at the empty cup. “According to Monsieur Jules, he gave a general description of his car, which means he was close by when Hector and I met for lunch or dinner one day.”
“Have you said anything to him?” Nicolas asked.
“No, not yet.”
“What are you waiting for, an invitation? His well-being is at risk the longer you wait,” Guy said. “He’s got a right to know someone out there has placed a target on you and he’s potential collateral damage in the making.”
“I’m... I’m not sure how to broach the subject,” she said. “I don’t want to scare him off because I’m a police woman, or there are risks to being seen with me.”
“Geneviève, he needs to know,” Nicolas said. “Tell you what - let Guy and I have a word with him. We’ll let him know about the case so you don’t jeopardize your relationship with him.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I think it’s something I need to do,” she said. “Besides, all this fuss could be for nothing in a day or two if Sergeant LeBlanc locates this Italian again,” she said, forcing a smile to her face.
Meanwhile, as the three detectives were discussing the situation with Geneviève’s prowler, Detective Lemieux was discussing the same matter with his senior officer, Captain Duval.
“So, the sergeant had the suspect, but let him go?” Duval asked.
“I don’t think it went down like that, Julien,” Claude said. “My take on how the sergeant described the situation was more along the innocent discussion with a shop owner trying to derive information without arousing suspicion.”
“But he was still able to get something on this man, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. He recalled much of what was said,” Claude replied. “And when Sergeant LeBlanc returned to question the shop owner, that’s when other pieces fell into place. I’d say the sergeant and his staff will come across him sooner than later.”
“Let’s hope it falls into the ‘sooner’ category, shall we, Claude?” the captain said. “Now, how are you holding up?” He asked, noticing Claude’s bloodshot eyes and the constant need to hold something in his hands.
“I’m doing ok,” Claude said, sitting back.
“I don’t want to push you to doing something if it’s not needed, Claude,” Julien said. “But, for your own good, I will if necessary, you understand?”
“I appreciate your concern, Julien,” he said. “And I know I can turn to you and Annette if it comes to it,” he started, standing. “But I’ll be ok, mon ami. I promise.”
Chapter Seventeen
Gregory sat across the table from his friend, listening to his story about the De Gaulle and the dockworkers. Finishing his drink, he glanced at Louis before saying anything. “So, you decided spending 35,000 euros was the right choice?”
“Don’t you?”
“I wasn’t there, so I can’t say what my decision would have been,” Gregory said. “But I’d like to think I would have done the same thing,” he said, sipping his coffee. "Losing a single day sailing by any of our freighters would be hard for us to recover from, seeing how our income has been slashed in half. Or worse, having the vessel confiscated by the authorities."
“Have you received anything from our contacts?” Louis asked. “We should have gotten something from the Greeks or Turks by now. They’ve been the steadiest and most loyal customers the last three years.”
“I’m optimistic we’ll learn from them by the end of the month,” Gregory said. “I would not be surprised if they found out of our split from Nazim and are waiting to see what our next step will be. Which brings me to our newest issue,” he started, pulling out a folder from his desk and sliding it in front of Louis before he continued.
“Seems Giuseppe has been in town meeting with another member from Italy,” he said, pointing to the grainy photo of the two men sitting in the park. “Based on what I’ve learned from Claire, the Italians are not only looking for Nazim’s cousin but also planning on abducting a police officer.”
“I don’t see it being an issue,” Louis said. “One less patrolman on the streets won’t matter much to us.”
“What if the officer being abducted was the one who gave you the limp?”
“The female detective? She’s the target for the Italians?” he asked. “Where can I be of help then?” He grinned like a fool. “If they can snatch her off the street, I’m definitely in favor of it.”
“She’s also the one involved in making Nazim’s cousin disappear,” Gregory said. “Which has me concerned that the Algerian, Khalid, is the one asking the Italians to do the dirty work.” He got up for more coffee. “If it turns out Giuseppe or someone he knows is helping Khalid or Nazim, I’m considering we might do one last operation,” he continued, gazing out the office window.
A ship’s horn echoed across the water before Louis could respond. Studying his friend, he knew once Gregory decided, especially one involving the use of force against an adversary, he would be committed.
“And who do we strike first? The Italians or the Algerians?”
“If we plan it properly, we can make it appear like they went after each other; what do you think?”
“Set them both against the other?” Louis said, stretching his leg. “It’s been a while since we planned something like this, you know. You’re not afraid of being rusty, are you?”
“I’ll admit we’ve been out of the game for a few years, but have you forgotten what the sergeant major taught us on the Farm?” Gregory asked. “The reason we spent four months training was to have the skills ingrained into our psyche, our ability to react,” He leaned on his desk as he spoke. “We’ll have Julien prepare a limited obstacle course. And I’ll contact Romain to see if he can offer us with some materials.”
“Make sure you tell Romain to keep his dogs at home, though,” Louis said. “The last one kept trying to hump my leg.” Chuckling at the thought and rising, he stepped next to Gregory. “I suggest we move against the Italians first. They’re closer, and I would assume Giuseppe has fewer people to call upon in Toulon,” he said as he walked out of the office.
***
Fixing the map onto the wall, Benito Russo took the photos his fellow mafia member took of Geneviève, placing them around the perimeter. Running string, he linked the photo to the maps location, identifying the pattern Angelo Mazza created during his two weeks of observing the officer.
“What was your plan?” he asked himself. Manipulating the string, he linked each spot on the map, making a crude circle. He saw two random photos set aside. One was showing Geneviève at the police academy entrance while the other was her and her gentleman friend at the airport. “There was no mention of you traveling, was there, detective?” he said aloud. “Why are you at the airport?” he asked, knocking his knuckle against the image.
The buzzing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. “Hello?”
“Benito, it's Signore Scuderi calling. How are you?”
A slight shudder coursed through his body hearing the voice of the mafia don. “I’m well, sir.”
“I’m not going to waste your time, Benito,” Alberto said. “Tell me, how is your plan coming along to abduct the woman?”
“The police have increased their presence around the woman’s apartment. Because of their activities, it's causing me to make other arrangements,” he lied to the mafia member. “But I’ve determined a means of apprehending her without risking injury. To do so, I’ll need the assistance of another person, though,” he explained, formulating the abduction.
“My associate, Signore Ricci, will be in contact with you later today,” Alberto said. “Your task needs to be accomplished by the end of the month. The officer will be handed off to a merchantma
n for delivery to our client then, you understand?”
Benito was looking at the calendar on his laptop. Eight days from now, he saw after counting the spaces. “I understand, Alberto; the plans will be completed by then. How much help will Signore Ricci make available? And will he have the information on this merchantman as well?”
“He’s capable of undertaking much of what you will need, I’m sure,” Alberto said. “And he’s able to contact me if there are other issues outside his control. After he contacts you, I’ll give the information to him about the hand-off with the merchantman,” He was careful to keep the identity of the ship and captain secret. “But, keep in mind, Benito, the more help you are given, the less you’re paid.”
“Understood, Signore Scuderi,” he replied. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve work to do.”
“Of course. Addio,” the older Italian said, ending the call.
Setting the phone on the table, Benito looked at the photo of the officer and her friend at the airport. “How formidable are you?” he asked himself. The image of Hector Dupont didn’t answer him, nor did it offer any sign as to the difficulties he was soon to be engaged in.
Staring at the photos of Geneviève, he grabbed a copy of the police report from her encounter in Algiers. “Subdued three assailants, placing two in the hospital,” he read aloud. “That’s why you’re exercising so much, isn’t it? You’re busy trying to prove you belong and hide any of your weaknesses aren’t you,” thumbing through the photos on his counter.
Once again, his cell phone rang, but he didn’t recognize the number. He let the caller leave a message which he retrieved, listening to what they had to say. “Signore Russo, my name is Ricci. Please contact me at...” The man left a local phone number. Scrolling through his call log, he selected the number and hit the talk button.
“Hello?”
“Yes, is this Signore Ricci?” Benito asked.
“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?” Giuseppe asked.
“My name is Signore Russo. I’m an associate of Signore Scuderi,” he said. “I understand you are to offer me with some help here in Marseille. Am I correct?”
“Yes, Signore Scuderi asked that I make myself available if needed,” Giuseppe said. “But I’m not in Marseille, at least not this moment, so any meeting would have to take place later in the afternoon at the earliest.” He was able to tell the lie with ease.
Benito frowned, hearing the man being sent to help was a day away. “What is the soonest time we can meet, and where do you recommend?” he asked, looking at the map.
“Parc Balneaire du Prado. I’ll be wearing an away jersey for your home club,” Giuseppe said. “I’ll be sitting along the walking path, so you don’t have to go traipsing in the sand searching for me amongst the sunbathers.”
Searching the waterfront on the map, Benito came across the location with his pencil, drawing a circle around the name. “What time would you like to meet?”
“Let’s make it 14:30, shall we?”
“Fair enough. If you don’t mind, I’ve several errands to make before then, so if there’s nothing else, I’ll bid you addio,” Benito said.
“Ciao,” Giuseppe replied, ending the call.
Benito took one last look at the map before grabbing his satchel and leaving the small apartment. Departing the building, he turned right and strolled towards the waterfront and the location of the day’s meeting.
Sitting in his car, Giuseppe observed Russo leave, noting his attire and the bag. In a few minutes, he got out of his car and followed Benito from the opposite side of the boulevard. He kept pace, making sure he didn’t lose sight of the other mafia member.
After fifteen minutes, both men stood facing the waterfront promenade. Giuseppe noticed the number of pedestrians growing by the minute as locals and visitors alike took in the summer sun. “All these people will make surveillance by the police a nightmare,” he said to himself as he crossed the street.
Walking from his apartment, Benito thought through his plan. “It’s simple,” he told himself. “I grab the boyfriend, and in exchange for his life, the woman agrees to take his place.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the simplicity. “And as busy as the airport is, it’ll be the best place to execute.” He knew the influx of travelers would add to the chaos of the getaway. Glancing out at the harbor, he spied several freighters plying the waters as they entered open waters.
“Which one of you am I contacting?” he said aloud, watching the diminishing images fade at the horizon.
Giuseppe noticed Benito stop and look out to sea. “Guessing which ship the woman is being taken to, aren’t you?” He knew Alberto would tell him when the freighter would arrive, but only when it was certain they had Officer Benoit in their hands. “I’m not one to second guess, but I’ll say it’s not here yet,” he muttered to himself.
The concentration of both men was soon interrupted by sirens of emergency vehicles making their way along the boulevard. Peering right, Giuseppe saw smoke billowing from one of the international hotels as fire equipment converged in front and police cars stopped at intersections to control traffic.
Now there’s a diversion, Benito thought as he observed the scene unfold before him. “But we can’t get too crazy, can we?” he uttered. Walking along the promenade, he soon came upon the park Giuseppe mentioned for their meeting. The image of smoke curling along the front of the hotel had captured the attention of many walking along the path. Getting to the sign announcing the park space, he saw several benches and tables, some occupied while others were not.
“It’s about the time we’ll meet,” he noted, glancing at his wristwatch. “So, I just need to look for a lone figure wearing an Inter Milan jersey.”
Meanwhile, Giuseppe had made his way close to where Benito stood, and began making his own mental notes. “Benches are all facing the water, and not all the tables are being used,” he told himself. “It shouldn’t be a problem finding an empty seat and seeing the world pass me by.”
Walking up to a small vendor selling refreshments, he bought a soda and a bag of chips before sitting at a table. What can I do with 75 thousand euros? He thought of the bounty placed on the woman. “A new oven would be nice, maybe some new tables and chairs,” he chuckled, conjuring up a list of items for his restaurant back in Toulon.
Just 100 meters to his right, Benito Russo leaned against the wall separating the roadway and the promenade. “What can you do with fifty-thousand euros?” he asked, contemplating the fee he would receive for handing over the police woman. “Maybe one of the new Alfa Romeo convertibles,” he said, smiling. “Red with leather interior would suit me fine.”
Shouting from down the boulevard broke through his thoughts as he turned to towards the noise. Looking at several of the crowd pointing skyward, he noticed why the screaming took place as a lone figure was poised on a balcony of the burning hotel.
Commands from the fire brigade could be picked up, but the person stood frozen against the wall. As smoke continued pouring out, it changed color, from sickening black to hopeful grey, signs the firemen were making progress fighting the fire inside the building.
Just as the figure moved towards the edge, attempting to escape the flames, an arm reached through the curtains, grasping an arm of the person and pulling them away from the rail. A cheer arose from the crowd gathered along the promenade as the rescue was completed.
Chapter Eighteen
With Detective Lemieux setting each detective on their respective tasks, Geneviève was dropped off at Banque Palatine to question the staff about the account for Papillion Transport.
“Excuse me, is your senior executive on site?” she asked the receptionist.
“And who may I say is calling?”
“Detective Benoit of DJSE,” she said, showing the woman her police credentials.
Soon, Geneviève was being escorted past a row of desks to an office between the teller stations and the vault. As the receptionist opened the door, she said,
“Monsieur Reno, Detective Benoit to see you.”
“Thank you, Giselle,” the executive said. “Detective, please have a seat,” he said, motioning to the couch. As he got up to sit next to her, he asked, “What can I do for the police today?”
“Monsieur Reno,” Geneviève started, “we are investigating a local company and we are hoping you can offer us with some background information.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “But you understand, we have a clause in all our corporate accounts covering confidentiality related issues. If your questions don’t cross those lines, we should be able to help you,” he started, leaning towards her. “And if not, maybe we can come to a mutual understanding for cooperating.”
Perceiving the executive’s advances, Geneviève looked the man in the eyes before answering. “We’re looking to question those involved in dealings with Papillion Transport, it’s a shipping firm here in Marseille.”
“That would be my commercial accounts director, Pierre Segal.”
“Is he in the office today?” she asked.
“Yes, if you’ll follow me,” Monsieur Reno said, getting up from the couch.
Walking behind the executive, Geneviève noticed many of the staff lowering their gaze as he walked past them. Interesting, she thought, almost like they consider him a deity or if he had something he held against them.
Reaching the desk for Monsieur Segal, the executive passed the secretary. “Where is Pierre?” he asked, seeing the empty seat behind her.
“I’m sorry, Monsieur Reno,” Lily said. “Monsieur Segal called earlier to say he was feeling ill and wouldn’t be in,” the petite woman said, a quiver in her voice as she relayed the message.
Turning to the officer, Monsieur Reno apologized. “I’m sorry for this, Detective Benoit, but as you can see, my staff member is absent today. Maybe if you furnish me with your questions, I can look into the matter and contact you when I find something.”
Obscure Intentions Page 13
