Breaking the Rules (28 page)

Stunned and appalled, Geo was paralysed, frozen to the spot.

She felt someone suddenly grab her arm, heard a voice urging her to move. It was Rebecca Byam, the American. Her friend Ann Molloy had picked up Geo’s handbag and was shoving it into her hands. They were pulling her away from the scene.

Geo saw Luke, blood all over his face, coming towards them, beckoning. Luke, Geo, Ann and Rebecca made it to the exit door where the runway became a T-shape and ended.

Someone had grabbed the mike, was asking for calm. Security men from the hotel were everywhere. Outside, police sirens were screaming. Ambulance signals were blaring.

Luke opened the emergency exit door and hurried the three women out of the salon. They found themselves in a corridor, and stood together, took a moment to catch their breath.

‘What happened?’ Ann Molloy asked. ‘How could the runway collapse like that?’ She was pale, distressed.

Luke said, ‘God only knows! But it’s the biggest disaster I’ve ever seen. Unbelievable. The underpinning just crumpled away as if it was made of cardboard.’

‘I saw it ripple earlier,’ Geo said at last, her voice hoarse with emotion. ‘Then I decided I’d imagined it. Obviously I hadn’t. I should have said something, told somebody. I could have prevented this.’ Tears came into her eyes.

Luke took hold of her arm consolingly. ‘Who would you have
told? And who would have listened? Or believed you? Tell me that.’

Geo said, ‘You must be hurt, Luke. You’ve got blood all over your face.’ She opened her bag, took out some loose tissues. ‘Here,’ she said, handing them to him. ‘They’re clean.’

He wiped his face, and reassured her. ‘I’m not hurt. But someone near me was injured, badly cut by a piece of metal…that’s how I got blood on myself.’

‘We have a car and driver outside,’ Rebecca said. ‘Can we take you somewhere?’

‘Thanks, that’s so nice of you, Rebecca, but I have a car,’ Geo murmured, and hugged her and Ann. ‘Thank you so much for helping me. I’m so grateful. I was sort of…
frozen.
For a few minutes.’

They chatted for a moment longer and then the two women walked down the corridor. Geo said, ‘They were terrific.’ She looked at Luke. ‘Do you think we should go back inside, try to help?’

He shook his head vehemently. ‘There’s nothing we can do, kiddo. A lot of the hotel security men were rushing in as we were getting out, and we heard the sirens. Proper help is in there right now. We’d only be in the way.’

Geo said slowly, her voice shaking, ‘Thank God M wasn’t on the runway. She could easily have been killed.’

‘She’s just had a narrow escape,’ Luke muttered, and shuddered. Taking hold of Geo’s arm, he led her swiftly down the corridor, explaining, ‘I’m going to sit you down in the hotel lobby and then I’ll go and investigate, see what’s happening, look for M.’

‘But everything must have been all right backstage, don’t you think?’ Geo said, staring at him, her face filled with anxiety.

Luke nodded. ‘I think so. I hope so. Which one of her security men was with her backstage?’

‘It was Stuart. Craig stayed with the car. He’s parked nearby. I have his cell number. I’m to call when we need him.’

Nodding, Luke opened another emergency exit door, and they found themselves walking into the lobby. There were many people milling around, but Geo saw Stuart almost immediately. He was taller than most. She hurried over to him, dragging Luke with her.

Relief spread across Stuart’s face when he became aware of Geo approaching. ‘M sent me to look for you,’ he said. ‘But I couldn’t get into the salon. They wouldn’t let me in. Security’s very tight. Police are in there already.’

‘M’s all right, isn’t she?’ Geo asked, peering at him.

‘Yes. She’s already in the car. Waiting for us. She sprained her ankle earlier, that’s why she wasn’t on the stage or the catwalk when it collapsed.’

‘I’m glad she sprained it,’ Luke exclaimed. ‘That’s why she’s still alive.’

Shocked and stunned by the disaster that had just occurred in the grand salon of the hotel, Jean-Louis Tremont was somehow managing to hang on to his self-control. Despite the sense of rising hysteria he felt inside, he spoke in a steady voice to Inspector Raymond Letort. The inspector had been one of the first policemen to arrive on the scene from the nearest gendarmerie.

‘
C’est une catastrophe,
’ Jean-Louis said, his expression dour. ‘Never in my entire career have I known anything to happen like this.
C’est incroyable.
’

Inspector Letort nodded, escorted the fashion designer to a quieter corner backstage. He said sympathetically, ‘It is indeed horrendous, Monsieur Tremont, an overwhelming tragedy. Now, monsieur, tell me exactly what occurred, as seen from your point of view.
S’il vous plaît.
’

‘It happened in an instant.’ Jean-Louis shook his head; he was
still disbelieving. ‘I came out onto the stage. It was the end of the fashion show. I was going to give the thanks, say a word. I did not open my mouth. The runway…’ Jean-Louis paused as his voice began to shake, then he continued more steadily after a moment. ‘I saw the runway collapsing. I became paralysed. My girls, the models, were falling off. And the male models. Panic. Screaming. It became chaos—wailing, shouting, moaning. I saw people hurt, blood everywhere. I rushed off the stage, went down into the grand salon to help. I did my best. It was horrific.’

‘I understand, monsieur. And your brother?’

‘Philippe had been standing in the wings. He heard the commotion, came to investigate. I saw him immediately rush away. I understood he was coming here, to the dressing and makeup area. Our model M was awaiting her car, and Philippe wished to be sure she was all right.’

‘She was not on the catwalk?’ the inspector asked, a brow lifting in surprise.

‘
Ah, non.
M had had a small accident backstage. Earlier. She sprained her ankle.’

‘She was lucky,
n’est-ce pas
?’

‘That is true,’ Jean-Louis agreed.

‘Monsieur Tremont, I have sent for our top counterterrorist unit,’ the inspector now announced, his voice lowered. ‘There is something peculiar about this most tragic accident. It is unprecedented. Runways do not collapse on their own. Not in France. Fashion is big business.
I am suspicious.
’

Jean-Louis was silent for a second before asking, ‘Do you think it was
contrived
?’ He sounded astonished. There was a puzzled frown on his brow. ‘Why would someone wish to sabotage my fashion show? Surely not
terrorists
?’

‘Why not, monsieur? Why
not
hit a big show like yours?
Extraordinary publicity ensues.
A few hundred people are killed or injured. Success for the terrorists. Every public event is
vulnerable these days, I am afraid.’ Inspector Letort’s eyes were sorrowful. ‘We live in bad times.’

Before Jean-Louis could respond, Philippe came hurrying over to them accompanied by two men. Inspector Letort greeted one of them. ‘Ah, there you are, Arnould,’ he said and, looking at Jean-Louis, he explained, ‘This is my colleague, Inspector Henri Arnould.’

Jean-Louis nodded. The two men shook hands and the designer greeted the other man next. He was the hotel manager, Thierry Marchand, and Jean-Louis now introduced him to Inspector Letort. Then he brought Philippe forward, explaining, ‘This is my brother, Inspector, Philippe Tremont.’

Once all of the introductions were over, Inspector Letort gathered the group in a far corner where it was totally quiet. They discussed the situation in detail. One thing was made clear. Inspector Arnould explained that the police had discovered that the metal underpinning of the wooden scaffold, the actual runway itself, had been tampered with.
Extensively.

Inspector Arnould continued: ‘The bolts and nuts securing the metal parts that held the wooden platform up had been loosened, and many had been removed in certain strategic places. The weight of the models walking on it for over an hour and then the additional weight of the six men eventually brought the structure down.’

Letort turned to the hotel manager, Thierry Marchand, and asked, ‘
When
was the runway built, monsieur?’

‘Last night, Inspector, and I must point out that security is excellent in the hotel. When the construction company hired to do the job finished, they immediately left. The grand salon was locked. It was secure, Inspector Letort.’

‘But somebody entered that room,’ Arnould announced, sounding positive. ‘In my opinion it was a terrorist. Or a terrorist group.’

‘I agree,’ Inspector Letort said. ‘That seems the most likely explanation.’

At this moment Jean-Louis noticed Kate Morrell and Peter Addison walking towards him. Excusing himself, he hurried forward to meet them. At once he was appalled by Kate’s appearance. She had blood all over her clothes and face, and looked as distressed as he himself felt. Peter was also in a dishevelled state, and grim looking, his suit covered in dust and blood.

‘Kate, Peter. Thank you. It was good of you to go into the salon. You are not hurt in any way?’

‘We’re both fine,’ Kate answered, her voice slightly hoarse. ‘Which is more than I can say for a lot of other people. There have been many casualties, Jean-Louis.’

‘How many have been killed?’ the fashion designer asked in a worried and concerned voice. ‘I can’t bear to think about it.’

Kate was silent, shook her head.

‘How many people have been injured, Peter? How many are dead?’ he asked again, staring at the PR man.

‘We don’t know yet, J.-L. The ambulances took part of the audience away. And all of the models. Sophie has been injured, but she’s not been killed. It’s a catastrophic situation, a horrific day.’

Jean-Louis Tremont remained totally silent. He suddenly appeared beaten down, at the end of his strength.

Philippe came to join them, looking grey under his tan.

Kate filled him in, but he already knew most of it since he had been helping out at the other end of the salon. ‘It beggars belief, I don’t know how such a thing could happen in Paris,’ he said. ‘The fashion industry employs thousands and is a big money-maker. Also, the construction companies that specialize in building the runways are skilled and responsible.
How could such an accident happen here?
‘

‘You know the police don’t think it’s an accident,’ Jean-Louis finally said wearily. He looked at Kate, and told her,
‘The construction was tampered with; the metal underpinnings were weakened because nuts and bolts were removed.’

‘The police believe it’s an act of terrorism,’ Philippe interjected. ‘And perhaps it is.’

‘Oh, my God!’ Kate exclaimed, her face turning white.

J
ames Cardigan stared at Larry when he opened the door of the suite, then exclaimed, ‘Good God, you’re as white as a sheet, you look terrible. Are you all right?’ ‘Just about, now,’ Larry replied, ushering James into the sitting room, closing the door. ‘But I wasn’t earlier. Come on in and sit down, and I’ll explain.’

The two men sat opposite each other, and Larry continued, ‘I got frightfully sick on location this afternoon, started to vomit. Immediately after lunch. I obviously ate something that was contaminated. The nurse attached to the production unit is convinced of that anyway. She thinks I have food poisoning. I couldn’t stop vomiting for ages, but when I was a bit more stable and able to leave the set, the assistant director brought me back to the hotel.’

‘What did you eat?’ James asked, still regarding him intently. ‘Shellfish can do it, you know, or eggs, which are frequently tainted. They can give you salmonella.’

Larry shook his head, grimaced and then laughed hollowly. ‘I had both, I’m afraid. I had Parisian eggs—you know what they are, you like them too. Hard-boiled eggs with mayonnaise and anchovies. After that I had a shrimp salad. Bad combination, no?’

‘I concur with
that
!’ James answered. ‘Have you seen a doctor?’

‘Yes, the doctor for the production company, who’s on call, came over about two hours ago, when I first got back, and confirmed what the nurse had said earlier. He gave me a prescription, which the concierge had filled, mainly because he was worried I might get another attack of diarrhoea. As all the vomiting has stopped, he says the best thing for me is to do nothing. Because everything bad is out of my stomach. He prescribed hot black tea, no milk or lemon. Or water and dry biscuits or dry toast if I get hungry.’

‘How are you feeling now, old chap?’ James peered at him, his eyes narrowing as he said, ‘You look a bit done in, I’m sorry to say.’

‘I am. But listen, funnily enough, I’m beginning to feel better. Empty inside, but better.’

James threw him an odd look, opened his mouth to say something and then stopped abruptly. He sat back in the chair, let out a long sigh, crossed his legs.

‘What is it?’ Larry asked. ‘You’ve got a funny look on your face.’

‘I just hope M doesn’t think you took something earlier, such as prescription pills.’

‘Oh, come on, James, she won’t think that! I was at work, for God’s sake, and she is well aware that I am the most serious and professional of actors. In any case, I promised I’d never take any kind of pill ever again, and I don’t break my promises.’

‘Sorry, Larry, I didn’t mean to suggest you’d fallen off the wagon. Look, I must digress. Just before you called me, I was about to ring
you
on your mobile. I didn’t know whether you were back from the set or not. I wanted to let you know that M had sprained her ankle earlier, and wasn’t able to finish the charity fashion show. So she—’

‘Is she all right?’ Larry immediately cut in swiftly, leaning forward, fixing those staggering blue eyes on James. ‘Oh, God, she must have been attempting to reach me on my mobile. I’ve
had it turned off since just after lunch, all afternoon. I wasn’t able to cope with answering it.’

‘She did try to reach you several times, and in the end she rang me, asked me to get in touch. About fifteen minutes ago. She also wanted me to tell you she was okay, and to explain about the catastrophe at the hotel.’

‘
Catastrophe?
‘

James realized Larry had not heard anything about the terrible event at the hotel, and he explained, ‘Something horrifying happened in the grand salon at the end of the fashion show. Around six o’clock.’ In his usual precise way, James Cardigan went on to relay to Larry as much as
he
knew about the incident at the Hôtel Cygne Noir.

A shudder passed through Larry, and he said, ‘What a terrible tragedy. How many people have been hurt?’

‘I don’t know yet. I got my information in bits and pieces—first from Stuart, then Craig, and a short while ago from Geo, who was there when it happened. Sophie, the top model, did get hurt, but she’s alive. Thankfully Geo and Luke are okay. They managed to get out through an emergency exit. They are in the car with M and your security chaps, en route here to the hotel as we speak.’

Larry sat back, closed his eyes for a moment, and then, sitting up straighter, staring at James, he asked in a puzzled voice, ‘How could something like that happen? In Paris, of all places, the home of the catwalk and the centre of the world’s fashion.’

‘I don’t know,’ James replied. ‘But the police seem to suspect a terrorist act, according to Craig, who was talking to some of them outside the hotel.’

Larry simply gaped at him in astonishment.

The two security men helped M into the suite, one on each side of her, their hands under her armpits. She hopped forward,
smiling broadly at her husband, and then her smile slipped when she saw Larry in his dressing gown and pyjamas, and realized he was pale as a ghost.

‘Darling, what’s wrong?’ she asked as he came towards her looking anxious.

He took hold of her, kissed her cheek, said, ‘I managed to get food poisoning on location. At lunch time. The assistant director brought me home this afternoon and the doctor attached to the production has been over to see me. I’m fine, sweetheart, it’s nothing serious, but what about your ankle?’

‘I’ll have to get it X-rayed tomorrow morning. I’m certain it’s only a sprain, though. What did you eat that made you so ill?’ She stared at him intently and lifted a brow, her expression quizzical.

‘Eggs first, and then I had a shrimp salad.’

‘You only need to eat one tiny piece of contaminated food to get sick as a dog, at least that’s what Daddy has always told me,’ M remarked, and sat down in the chair. Looking up at Stuart and Craig, who were hovering over her, she said, ‘Thanks so much for looking after me and Geo, and Luke. Let’s order a drink, shall we? We all need one.’ Glancing at Larry, she then said, ‘Oh, sorry, darling, perhaps we shouldn’t be crowding in on you like this. You should be resting.’

‘I’m glad of the company, and I can always go and lie down in the bedroom if I feel suddenly bad again. Right now, well, I’m glad to say I’m not too bad. Luke. Geo. You two were really lucky, from what James has just told me.’

Luke said, ‘Damn right we were lucky, and thankfully we were both near the end of the catwalk and, more importantly, close to an exit door. But the person who is truly lucky is M, Larry. If she hadn’t had the accident backstage, hadn’t done her ankle in, she would have been on the runway. She would have been thrown off when it collapsed, like all the others were.’

‘I can’t bear to think of what might have happened,’ Larry
said, a rush of apprehension turning him cold. Swallowing hard, squeezing M’s shoulder, he thanked God she was safe.

Geo, who was standing with her arm tucked through her husband’s, looked from Larry to M, and said quietly, ‘You must have a guardian angel sitting on your shoulder, M.’

M pursed her lips together, stared at Geo, and said, very slowly, her eyes reflective, ‘Once, when I was quite small, I fell into a deep ravine. I rolled, tumbled, rolled and tumbled, until I got to the very bottom. When my panic-stricken mother reached me, I was totally intact. Not a scratch or a bruise on me. No damage at all. All I had was a dirty face. It was a miracle I hadn’t been killed, and
she
told me that day that I had a guardian angel watching over me. I guess I do, Geo. I hope I do in the future, too.’

Larry said, ‘James, would you be kind enough to call room service? Let’s get a couple of bottles of white wine up here, and a bucket of ice. There’s a drinks trolley over there with the usual on it—Scotch, vodka, and gin—and here’re Cokes, tonic, and soda in the minibar. I won’t have any alcohol, but I’m sure you all need a drink after what you’ve been through.’

James did as Larry asked and, once the order had been given, he walked over to Stuart and Craig. ‘Give me your take on the disaster. Tell me what you found out, Craig. You were in the street, weren’t you? Come on, chaps, let’s go and sit over there.’ As he spoke, he indicated a second seating area against the back wall; the three of them walked over and sat down. They were two of his best operatives and he trusted their judgement.

Geo took the chair next to M, while Larry positioned himself on the sofa next to M’s chair and took hold of her hand. Luke sat down next to Larry, asking him, ‘Do I still have blood on my face?’

‘No, you’re as clean as a whistle,’ Larry responded and, looking affectionately at his wife, he murmured, ‘I shall have to get you a pair of crutches tomorrow to help you get around.’

‘
A
crutch will do. And thanks, darling.’

After a few moments talking together, James, Stuart and Craig came and joined them, all three of them settling down on the opposite sofa in front of the fireplace.

James said, ‘We all want to know as much as we can, to understand what happened, and I think the two people who know the most are the eyewitnesses. Luke and Geo. After that, M can give us details about the activity backstage. Luke, start telling us, would you please?’

‘I will, if you want. But actually, James, Geo should really start this off because she saw more than I did.’

Before James could utter a word, Geo said, ‘That’s right, I did see everything.’ She sat back in the chair, steadied herself, and began by saying, ‘The funny thing was, right at the beginning of the show I saw something really strange. I thought I saw the runway
shift
slightly. It appeared to
tremble.
Then when I looked again, I thought I’d dreamed it, or that I needed glasses. In the end, I decided I’d been imagining things.’ Taking control of herself, suddenly afraid that she might start to weep, Geo took a moment before continuing her story, slowly and effectively giving them the gist of it.

After Geo, Luke spoke for several minutes, mostly explaining what happened when people started to panic, how they pushed past each other and upturned chairs in their haste. It was an emotional moment when he said he actually saw the models falling off the catwalk and into the audience; how some people were injured when this happened; others hurt in the crush of the crowded area. He finished by explaining how he, Geo, and Ann and Rebecca, the two American women, had managed to make such a swift and relatively easy escape. And all because of where they were standing in the grand salon, and their close proximity to the emergency exit.

James now looked at M, and said, ‘You were backstage, so Geo told me. This was because of your accident, apparently, so how
did
you find out about the collapse of the runway?’

‘It was Philippe Tremont who came rushing backstage. He looked alarmed, told me to pull my things together quickly, and to come with him. I asked him to bring Stuart over, and literally within seconds the two of them had virtually lifted me outside. I then persuaded Stuart to try and get back into the hotel, go through the lobby and into the grand salon. To find Geo, hopefully to extract her and Luke. First, Stuart called for the car, and once I was in it he went to the front entrance of the hotel.’

‘Anything to add, Stuart?’ James asked.

The ex-SAS officer shook his head. ‘That’s about it, James. I’m pretty certain Craig was probably the one who had a bird’s-eye view of the events outside, the police arriving and all that.’

Craig nodded. ‘That’s true. Not much to tell though, James. There were any number of cops milling around. Their cars and vans were blocking the area. So many people were trapped in their cars, and the traffic jams were building, so there was a great deal of shouting, blaring of horns, and foul language being spouted out of windows. I did manage to have a few words with two different cops at one point, and both told me that counterterrorist units had been summoned, brought in. They were naturally very anxious. Some were wondering if there were bombs planted inside the hotel. I tried to get more information from others, but wasn’t able to do so.’

At this moment the doorbell of the suite rang, and James jumped up and went to open it. The waiter wheeled in a trolley, immediately opened a bottle of the white wine and poured a small amount for James to taste. James did so, nodding his approval, and the waiter hurried off, telling James to ring if he needed anything else.

James asked, ‘Who wants what? Geo? M? Luke?’

‘I’ll have white wine, and I suppose Geo will, won’t you?’ M said.

Geo smiled at James. ‘That’s fine, darling.’

Stuart and Craig also elected to have a glass of white wine each,
as did Luke. After pouring the wine into glasses, he opened the other bottle. Craig handed the glasses of wine around, and then they all settled back in their seats to continue the conversation.

It was Larry who spoke first. Glancing at James he said, ‘As you’re the expert here, in view of your last position working for the Secret Intelligence Service, why do
you
think the
flics
called in the counterterrorist unit or units? I mean, why would the police think terrorists would target Jean-Louis?’

‘
If
the tragedy at the hotel this afternoon
was
an act of terrorism, I’m
absolutely certain
it wasn’t aimed at Jean-Louis Tremont…’ James lifted his glass of water, said cheers, took a sip and continued: ‘This disastrous act was directed at the Hôtel Cygne Noir. It is an American-owned hotel, by the way, and also the new watering hole and preferred destination for American movie stars and celebrities. And the act was also aimed at one of the biggest industries in France, a business that the terrorists most probably wanted to destroy and undermine.’

‘The Fashion Business, with capital F and B,’ M exclaimed, and looked pointedly at James. ‘And an industry that makes billions a year, and one of the two top export businesses in France…Wine and Fashion spell France.’ She paused, and drank a little wine, said, ‘I know haute couture is not as big as it used to be, that the wealthy customers for it are diminishing, but haute couture is still the great symbol. Prêt-à-porter is big, and sells well, and so do the toiles of the couture clothes, which are bought by manufacturers from all over the world. They buy the right to copy the originals. And then there are patterns and fabrics, all from the haute-couture range, which are sold worldwide. It’s endless, and it employs thousands of people. So here’s how it probably breaks down: damage an American hotel, damage a French industry, kill infidels at the same time…i.e., get rid of the Western democracies by slaying their people wholesale.
I
believe it was a terrorist act,’ M finished, and looked at Craig and Stuart whom she knew agreed.