The Grey Falcon

by J. C. Williams

  Peter Roesler called it erpressung, extortion. He even suggested photographs might be in the envelope. Chad felt Peter was reading his mind. The images of photographs that floated through his concussion returned. So did his headache. He didn’t share this with his two law enforcement companions, because he still felt as his doctor suggested that they were not real but some inner translation from his subconscious or unconscious. Chad didn’t want to derail the investigation, which might happen if they took his visions literally.

  They all felt good about the current hypothesis. It explained the public meeting place. It explained the murder. Not just to recover the money but to silence Rauch. It explained the house fire, as well, to destroy any additional incriminating information. Peter called it a theory to fit the facts. Chad called it facts that led to a theory. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

  They shook hands at the gate. Chad still felt odd with no carry-on and no checked luggage. No matter. He looked forward to an hour nap on the flight. He was grateful to the upgraded seat that Interpol secured for him. Their timing to the gate was perfect. They reached it just as his zone was called. Chad glanced around at his fellow travelers waiting to board. He looked, but his vision was blurred by a veil of weariness. If he had not been so tired, he may have seen a face that looked familiar. Maybe just the eyes. Maybe one of those déjà vu moments. But, he didn’t.

  Unfortunately, the other set of eyes saw him.

  Luc Millet was startled. He thought he hid his surprise, but his sister, sitting next to him, asked her brother what was wrong.

  He put her off with a comment about sitting for so long. Meanwhile he was noting everything he could see and overhear. They were police. He knew that from twenty years of looking out for them and avoiding them. It was in their manner. It was their constant surveillance of others. The redheaded Good Samaritan from the museum turns out to be police, Luc thought. The other two with him were a Frenchman and a German. International police in Lyon, Interpol’s headquarters? His adversary was Interpol.

  Luc glanced at the boarding process. He had time.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told his sister.

  Stepping away from the crowd, he placed a call.

  It went to voicemail.

  Luc was circumspect with his message.

  “Hi. Just wanted to let you know that we are about to board. My sister and I should be in London shortly. It’s only an hour or so flight from Lyon. Oh yes, our redheaded friend is on the same flight. I would speak with him but he’s in that other class. One could get arrested if they break those international rules. Hope you can meet us.”

  He hung up. There should be enough hints at a redhead, something international, and an arrest that Zevic would figure out the Interpol connection.

  Luc sat back down. It had not been a good week. His outlets in the UK dried up when word got out about the pawnbroker. Luc wasn’t sure what he had done, but he knew it had something to do with the redhead almost stopping him. So, the man got what he deserved. Still, it made his business difficult. So much so, he was planning now to move the UK haul to France to get rid of it. And, then, this business with his nephew, his favorite nephew. His sister’s only boy, whose father died when he was two. Luc was like a surrogate father to the young man.

  -----

  “Wait, wait,” Detective Constable Stacker said before the hand on the back of his head pushed his face under the river.

  He struggled against the pressure, but each arm was held by a strong grip. A firm hand pushed against his back. Another hand was on his shoulders. He tried to hold his breath but his lungs were ready to explode. The hand on his head let go. He jerked his head out of the water gasping for breath.

  “No. This isn’t right,” Sandy said. “It’s too public.”

  Stacker sputtered, “That’s what I was going to say.”

  “Oh, we thought you were just chickening out,” Sandy said.

  Stacker had volunteered to be the victim to see if the bruises on their victim came from a forced drowning.

  He shook himself off. The two constables who had held his arms waited, with a slight look of amusement.

  “Besides being too public, it would take three people, to keep his hands from clawing the dirt. I checked. His fingernails were clean. Besides, the pressure I applied was lower in the back.”

  Stacker couldn’t believe he was about to say this, “Let’s try his apartment. The bathtub, perhaps. Even the sink could work. Remember he was hit on the back of the head before death.”

  “The toilet bowl is a possibility,” one of the constables said with a serious look. The other smothered a laugh. It was not too long ago that Stacker was one of them.

  The four officers walked the path back to the bridge and the housing complex.

  “Did you work out how much he was overspending?” Sandy asked.

  “He made fifty thousand pounds in salary. Take away the taxes, rent, car lease, and what he charged. Then, he barely had a thousand pounds left. I estimate his cash layout at over five thousand. So he is four thousand short every year. Over a few years, it adds up. He would have to borrow from someone.”

  “Or, he did an odd job or two? Do you have his records from France yet?” Sandy asked. “By the way, good work on that analysis.”

  Stacker liked working with Sandy and wouldn’t mind working for her. She made gentle suggestions on what he overlooked. Didn’t chew him out. And she gave praise when deserved.

  “Central office said they would get them right away.”

  Sandy knew how that would work and how long.

  “I may have a more direct line,” she said, thinking of Adrien Tellier.

  “It’s a shame,” Stacker said.

  “What is?”

  “He seems like a good chap. My age. Probably worked his way through school. He came here to put his degree to work. Found a good job. People liked him. He helped out around his neighbors’ flats. Seemed like the maintenance is a bit slack and slow here. He never had any money. Now he does, but he doesn’t budget well. Get’s into something with the wrong someone. And now dead.”

  “What kind of helping out?” Sandy asked. “IT stuff? I don’t want to blow up your image of Colbert, but maybe some of that electronic work gave him access to do surveillance. Maybe it led to extortion.”

  “Poof. You know how to put down a good man,” Stacker joked.

  “Just saying, keep an open mind.”

  “It wasn’t electronic work. Besides his job was in systems security. Like hacking to learn how to prevent hackers. That’s their company’s specialty. The work he did for neighbors and friends was electrical. Circuits tripping, power issues, ground faults not working. Poor construction on these flats, if you ask me. I plan to run it over to building inspections after we get done with it.”

  Sandy was adding two and two. Electrical knowledge. Power circuits. And, system security. Useful skills if you want to rob a museum. She had something else to tell Tellier and Dickie.

  Chapter 46

  It was great to be home, Chad thought. It felt like home more and more, particularly after a trip like this last one. He stood in the doorway, dripping from the short walk in the rain from the cab to the front door. Even the rain that he so often complained about felt good.

  He left his shoes at the door, quickly shed his wet clothes, and took a shower.

  He called Sandy. She answered from her car.

  “Hello, Archer. Did you make it home?”

  “Yes. I am home.” It felt good to say that.

  “I will be there shortly. Maybe twenty minutes. I was thinking of Indian take-away.”

  “I was thinking of something else,” Chad replied trying to sound seductive.

  “Oh? Fish and chips?”

  “No-o-o.”

  “Chinese?”

  “No-o-o.”

  “Archer, don’t you even know what you want?” she teased.

  “Oh, I know all right.”

  Sandy yawned. “I am so tir
ed.”

  “I’ll make a large pot of coffee then,” he replied.

  “You are persistent. Can’t wait to see you. Oh, while you’re getting the food, could you pick up a good bottle of French Shiraz ? I had a breakthrough today.”

  “Absolutely. Can do.”

  One thing Chad loved about her flat was the location. Around the corner were several restaurants, a wine store, a butcher, and a bakery among other stores.

  Opening the coat closet by the front door, he removed his trench coat from its hanger.

  “Yuk. What happened to you?” he said to his coat. It was not only wrinkled badly, but there were smudge marks and dirt all over it. Then he remembered the last time he wore it was at the museum. He recalled dropping it on the stairs. He must have stepped on it. Well, luckily, one of the shops in the neighborhood was a dry-cleaner that opened late in the morning and stayed open until nine. They catered to the after work clientele of the neighborhood who often needed something right away. He could drop it off there.

  -----

  Max arrived at the van for the second time today. His watcher said he thought the man they sought had shown up. Max looked at the video replay for the third time. The rain obscured the visitor’s features. Max noticed that the visitor had a key. Max was reasonably sure it was her roommate, Dr. Chad Archer. He thought about making Archer a copy of the video of Moffat and her noon delight. He should know she was cheating. Max kicked himself for his curiosity. He knew the name of the man he was sent to find. He could tell Zevic, but then he would have to admit that he disobeyed orders. As tough and violent as Max thought of himself, he had a respect for the brutality he sensed in the bigger man.

  Nonetheless, he had to call.

  “Yeah,” was the answer.

  “It’s me,” Max said. “I believe our chicken has come home to roost. He left again before I arrived. Wait. He is returning now. Looks like he bought some food.”

  Max waited. Zevic said nothing.

  Max continued, “He’s alone. I could take him now.”

  Zevic had no doubt about the man’s abilities. He had already performed well as both a finder and enforcer on this job, as well as several in the past.

  “No. He’s Interpol. Just watch for now.”

  Max knew from the book he saw in the flat that Dr. Archer was an archeologist. Interpol? Undercover maybe? He didn’t think so. He first needed Zevic’s permission to enter the flat, and then he could correct Zevic’s erroneous information.

  “If he leaves, should I follow?”

  “Yes. But, don’t let him see you. We have enough attention on us. Find out where he lives.” Zevic wanted to search the man’s place himself for the missing photographs.

  Max bit his lip once more. From what he had seen, Archer lived with Moffat.

  ----

  Sandy came through the door and rushed to Chad. Their kiss was long and sweet. They were both finding that even short times apart were too long. Each wondered how they would continue with the six-week stints Chad put in at BC. Both felt the added fragility of life, she from the violence she investigated, and he from the violence he experienced.

  She stepped back looked into his face and lovingly said, “I have just one question for you, Archer boy.”

  “What’s that bobbette?”

  “Where’s the wine?”

  “C’mon.” Chad steered Sandy into the kitchen. He had the wine poured and places set at the small table in the small kitchen.

  Sandy opened a lower cupboard door, moved aside the pots and pans, reached in, up, and behind the cabinet front.

  “I’ll turn this off. No need to record what may happen here in the next hour.”

  “What may or will…” Chad began. “What do you mean turn off? When did you put cameras in?”

  Chad quickly thought through what he knew of her case. He hadn’t heard it all but a hospitalized pawnbroker and a dead lead was enough information to deduce she felt threatened.

  “You are in danger?” he asked evenly.

  “No worries, tell you later. In fact we can watch the video we captured of you earlier.”

  “I was taped? Oh my god. I ran around here naked. Who is watching?” he kidded.

  “Really? Maybe I should watch it now? Unless you want to give me a live demo?” She gave him another kiss, picked up her wine and headed for the bedroom. “Follow me.”

  An hour later, an exhausted Chad Archer rolled over to sleep, while Sandy tiptoed to the kitchen, wearing an XL maroon tee shirt emblazoned with Braxton College. She picked at the curry and thought about the two entwined cases.

  June 24

  4 days to Vidovdan

  Chapter 47

  “Good morning,” Chad said sheepishly, wearing only pajama bottoms. He hunted a coffee cup, yawned, and added, “Couldn’t find my tee shirt.”

  “You want it back?” Sandy asked, putting down the spoon next to the yogurt she was eating. She started to pull up the shirt.

  Chad was caught by surprise, “No. Well, sure. I mean you’re welcome to it. Now?”

  Laughing, Sandy rose from the table and kissed him. “Not now. We’d be late for work.”

  “Take the day off?” he suggested.

  “Can’t. Big case. You too? We didn’t talk about work last night.”

  “Didn’t talk much at all as I recall,” he said.

  She kissed him again. “No, we didn’t.” Her arms were still looped around his neck. “So talk now.”

  “You first. What’s this surveillance system?”

  “Sit down. Drink your coffee and let me tell you about my pawnbroker.”

  She spoke for twenty minutes sharing the missing fingers, the trip to Liverpool, the drowning in Welton, and the suspicion of murder and a possible tie to the museum case and the murder in Liverpool.

  “Somebody’s tying up loose ends, Chad.”

  “Are you one of the loose ends?” he asked evenly.

  “Seems so,” she replied matter-of-factly. “That’s why I put in a surveillance system. I want to catch someone if they come in here.”

  “Is it alarmed?” Chad asked.

  “No. Liam suggested it, but I didn’t want to scare any intruder away. In hindsight, I should have seen if he could have made it a silent alarm that went to my phone. Let’s look at how it worked when you came home last night.”

  She showed Chad the three cameras in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom and the power unit in the cabinet with an on-off switch.

  “It goes to a cloud and I can access it in real time or afterwards.”

  Sandy opened her laptop. In a few seconds she had the website up and typed in a user name and password.

  “See. It shows five activations. One when we set it up. One when we turned it on and left and there should be two for you. One when you first came in. Is that the one where you’re dancing naked? And, then when you returned with dinner. It shuts off after five minutes of no activity.”

  “That’s four,” Chad said.

  Quickly she clicked through the recordings. They were surprised by the third one. An image of a man coming through the front door prompted a gasp from Sandy.

  They watched as he went room-to-room looking at things, picking some up and replacing them very carefully. The man used his phone to take pictures of mail, the closets, and books.

  The intruder wore a ball cap pulled low. He didn’t seem to suspect there were cameras on him. He did not try to avoid any surveillance. He was in and out in twenty minutes.

  Sandy calmly spoke first. “There are several clear views of his face. He wore gloves, so no prints. I’ll ask Liam how to take some snaps of the film. I’ll get to work on them. Send them to Dickie, too. Maybe it’s our man in Liverpool.”

  “Anything I can do?” Chad asked watching her.

  “No. Thanks for not going all hero about this. I know you’ll worry about me. I’d tell you not to, but you will.”

  Chad responded, “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about
him. He’s messed with the wrong marine, or bobbette, in this case. I know you’re pissed.”

  Sandy smiled knowing the reference to Colonel Jessup in A Few Good Men, one of Chad’s favorite films.

  “I didn’t realize how I would feel seeing someone in here. But, Chad we’re not talking about what the real issue is. It’s you. He’s looking for you.”

  “What?” Chad asked in disbelief.

  “Watch again. That’s your mail he’s photographing. That’s your book. That’s your side of the closet. It’s about your attempt to interrupt the robbery. Somehow they tied you to me and went looking for me. So they could find you. Why?”

  “I don’t know. How did they connect us?”

  “After the robbery in the museum? I don’t know.”

  “They want me for what I saw? What did I see? What did I forget that I saw? The thief? The truck?” He stopped short of saying photos. Now he really believed he saw them. They were not just an image formed in his concussion. They were real. Maybe. He kept it to himself.

  “You need some protection,” Sandy said flatly.

  “I’ll leave town,” Chad said and fetched a bowl, spoon, and the cereal box.

  Sandy sat arms folded watching him.

  “Now, return the respect,” he said to her. “Don’t worry yourself.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Jogging, then Dresden, then back to Belgrade. Here’s the deal. I’ll be back in a few days. Four at the most. In the meantime, you find this bad guy.”

  They were both silent.

  Sandy broke it. “Before he finds you.”

  ”Right,” replied Chad. “You can be my hero.”

  “Heroine,” she corrected him. “Do I get to wear a super hero costume?”

  “You already have it on. BC. Bobbette Champion!”

  Chapter 48

  “Dickie, I’m emailing you a picture now,” Sandy said from her desk. She had told her partner about the video. “I’ll text it as well. Facial recognition is started. Let’s see if this guy ties everything together for us. I’ll send it to Stacker in Welton. See if he made an appearance. I’ll take it to Best, but he said the man was masked.”