Wanted: A Leopold Blake Thriller (8 page)

“This is insane,” said Leopold, glancing at Sophie. She was staring at him, dumbfounded. “I had nothing to do with this. Someone obviously wants me to take the blame.”

“And I assume you can prove otherwise?” said Rousseau.

“It’s not up to me to prove my innocence,
Capitaine
. You’ll need something a little more conclusive than a smudged fingerprint.”

“Understood, understood. But this is how I see it: I have two foreigners,” he gestured at Leopold and Jerome, “who arrive in France days before the murder. One of the foreigners is military trained and an expert in firearms, having practiced in private security for the last twenty years. The other foreigner has a very public argument with the director, just minutes before he is shot, about some mysterious security system issue. I have enough to secure a formal charge against you, at the very least. Perhaps a judge will feel differently, but I can’t very well let you leave, can I? Not with all your resources. You will have to stay here until we can arrange a court hearing.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” said Leopold. “We need to be leaving now.”

“That will not be possible. I’m arresting you, both of you, for conspiracy to commit murder. You have the right to assistance from a lawyer. If you cannot afford a lawyer, we will provide one for you. You have the right to remain silent under questioning, although failure to answer questions –”

“Yes, yes, I know the drill,” said Leopold. “I can waive reading of my rights, thank you. Are we done here?”

“I’m very sorry to tell you, Mr. Blake,” said Rousseau, making his way to the door, “but this is really only just beginning.”

Chapter 13
 
 

MARY JORDAN ROLLED her hastily-packed suitcase through the Charles De Gaulle airport customs area and tried not to make eye contact with the security staff. Head down, she passed through the checkpoint without incident and joined the flow of traffic toward the arrivals lounge, heading straight for the nearest coffee place once she hit the lobby. After nearly eight hours stuffed into cattle-class, a decent cup of coffee was pretty much the only thing on the planet that had any chance of keeping her upright. Spotting an empty table at a nearby Starbucks, she headed for the counter at a brisk pace, hoping to get her order in before someone else got the same idea.

She picked up her drink and nestled herself at the table. Grimacing as the taste of burnt coffee beans coated her tongue, Mary remembered why most people don’t stick around for airport refreshments.
Still, caffeine is caffeine
, she reasoned, taking another slurp. Pulling out her cell phone, she turned the handset on and waited for it to pick up a local signal. Having forked out fifty bucks for a weeks’ worth of roaming charges, now was as good a time as any to catch up on her email.

The cell phone buzzed excitedly as the screen sprang into life, announcing seven missed calls and three voicemails. All from the same number. With a resigned sigh, Mary dialed her mom and held the phone up to her ear, experience suggesting that getting this conversation out of the way would save a heap of trouble later on. After a few rings, her mother answered.

“Hello? Hello? Who’s this?”

“Relax mom,” said Mary, tipping the remainder of the bitter espresso down her neck. “It’s me. What’s so important you needed to get through to me over the Atlantic?”

“Oh, I’m sorry hon. You know I don’t know how to use these damn things. I must have redialed you or something, I was trying to send out a chirp… is that the right word? That little birdy thing you put on here for me?”

“You mean Twitter?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I was trying to send a Twitter. Anyway, how was the flight? You land okay?”

“Sure, mom. Look, if you’re busy, I could really –”

“No, no. I’m glad you called back, honey. I didn’t want to bring it up this morning, what with you rushing out and all, but I do need to speak with you about something really important. Have you got time?”

Mary checked her watch. “I’m supposed to be getting picked up right about now. But I guess he won’t mind if I’m a few minutes late. What’s up?”

“Well, I know it’s been a few years, but your sister’s been in touch.”

Mary’s heart caught in her chest.

“Honey? You there?”

“Yeah, mom. I’m here. I just haven’t thought about her in a while.”

“I know sweetie. It’s been hard for all of us, but… well, I told her I’d mention it to you and see –”

“And see if I can bring myself to speak to her again?” Mary interrupted. “After what she did, I don’t know why you just didn’t hang up the phone right there and then.”

“She’s my daughter too, sweetie. I never stopped caring about her.”

“And you want me to talk to her?”

“Just
think
about it, okay? I’m not saying everything’s forgiven, but… well, I miss her! And I miss you two getting along. It’s not right that two sisters haven’t spoken with each other in five years. Just not natural.”

Mary sighed. “I’ll think about it, mom. But no promises.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Listen, I’ve got to go, I’m running late.”

“Okay, hon. Love you.”

“You too.” Mary heard the line go dead.

Feeling the caffeine start to take hold, she got to her feet and gathered up her suitcase, glancing around for instructions on where to find the pickup zone. After ten minutes peering at her cell phone’s translation software, she drummed up the courage to ask one of the airport concierges for help. Directed toward the far end of the building, Mary found the exit that led out onto the main concourse, where a rabble of jet-lagged passengers stood waiting for taxis. It was nearly nine P.M. but the sun was still shining and there was at least an hour of daylight left, meaning plenty of opportunity to get into the city and find a nice terrace bar, have a few drinks, and get something to eat. She glanced around for her ride, but could only make out a long line of cabs.

Pulling out her cell phone, Mary dialed a number from memory and waited for the call to go through. She was greeted by a pre-recorded message.

“This is Leopold Blake. Please leave a voicemail.”

Dammit.
She made a mental note to make him pay for dinner. She made another mental note to make sure she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. Slipping the handset back into her pocket, Mary glanced around and wondered how long she’d have to wait before giving up and getting a taxi.

In the distance, she noticed the rows of hotel blocks just beyond the outer perimeter of the airport and wondered whether it might just be easier to grab a room and hope for better luck in the morning. Squinting at the closest building, Mary could make out a slight glimmer on the otherwise featureless roof – a tiny pinprick of light that was just bright enough to draw her attention.

Chapter 14
 
 

REINIGER PEERED THROUGH the rifle scope and lined up his shot. Having swapped out the barrel and changed ammunition, even if the police did recover the round they wouldn’t be able to match it with the earlier targets, which would keep them guessing long enough for him to complete the mission.

He lay on his stomach atop the Charles De Gaulle Hilton Hotel, a little over one thousand meters away from his target and well within the rifle’s effective range. The wind had picked up considerably since Notre Dame and the airport forecourt was a lot busier than he had anticipated, which was an added challenge he could do without. Still, he had made much more difficult kills, so this should be a walk in the park. Concentrating, he watched his target closely and felt himself fall into sync with her movements, just as he had done countless times before.

Just a little further,
he willed his target to take a few steps forward, away from the steel railings that blocked a clear shot to her chest. Reiniger briefly considered switching positions to get a better angle before noticing the woman was looking straight at him. His eyes seemed to meet hers. The assassin’s finger brushed against the trigger, ready to fire. His pulse quickened, momentarily.

A gust of cool air whipped past his head, ruffling his hair and whistling through his ears. The wind speed felt like at least twelve knots, which meant a head shot was out of the question. She would have to venture away from the relative safety of the taxi shelter to allow a clear shot to the torso.

Just a little further.
 

Through the scope, Reiniger watched a bus pull up, blocking his view. He saw the doors slide open and a rabble of elderly holidaymakers pour out onto the asphalt, dragging their hand luggage behind them. The driver rushed ahead, pulling open the baggage compartments at the side, heaving suitcases out on to the forecourt.

The assassin swore, his profanities lost in the wind. Earlier in the week he had spent the best part of a day staking out the airport’s numerous pick up zones, and not once had a tour bus ventured anywhere near. This particular driver must have gotten lost somewhere in the maze of one way systems and given up, presumably eager to unload and move on to the next job.

Goddamn amateurs.
 

A moment later his suspicions were confirmed as he saw an irate airport official march toward the huddle of pensioners with a walkie-talkie pressed to his lips. He and the bus driver proceeded to argue, their arms flailing. The assassin couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the body language was universal and neither seemed in any rush to back down.

Unexpected wind speed. Unexpected obstacles. A forecourt full of witnesses. If Reiniger had learned anything from his long and brutal career, it was that uncertainty leads to mistakes. And mistakes lead to getting caught. Or killed. More often than not, a simple twist of fate could make all the difference between a successful job and a botched one, and this was one mission that had to go off without a hitch.

Frowning, the assassin adjusted the lens and zoomed in, right up to the maximum possible setting. Through the bus’ windows, he could still make out his target; she was on the move, heading straight for the line of waiting taxis. He watched her pull her police badge from her pocket and wave it in front of her as she walked, mouthing something he couldn’t make out. The line of people moved out of her way as she made a bee line for the nearest cab. He made a mental note of the license plate as she climbed inside.

Taking his eye from the scope, Reiniger took a moment to consider his options. This was not necessarily a reason to abort. He knew where the target was headed, and could make a pretty good idea what she would do once she found out why her ride hadn’t showed. There was only one building in Paris where she would go and Reiniger already knew the layout. It would be simple enough to wait for her to come to him. Instead of risking a tricky shot from long range, he now had the opportunity to indulge in a more intimate approach, something up close and personal.

Yes, this could work out very well indeed.

With excitement welling up inside him, Reiniger quickly disassembled the rifle and packed it back into the carry case. Pulling out the KA-BAR knife, he checked the edge against his thumb and suppressed a grin.

Very well indeed.

Chapter 15