“That video—which none of us wished we’d ever see—isn’t the silver bullet we hoped it would be. But it’s enough to start an investigation, but there’s more. If the police do their job—”
“Which is a big if,” Coilin murmured.
“If the police do their jobs, they’ll find that Valmont has connections with prostitution rings that involve underage girls, I’m sure of it.”
“And his lawyers will be able to tie the case in knots forever. The evidence is too circumstantial.”
“Which is why we have to strip him of his assets.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Coilin snorted. “Why didn’t I think of that? We just have to impoverish one of the richest men in the country. Piece of fecking cake. With cream. And jam on it. Lots of fecking jam. How in the name of all that’s good and holy do you propose to do that?”
Hayden let out a long sigh. “Valmont’s not as secure as you think,” he said at last. “Sure, he’s rich, but he’s led one of the craziest lifestyles you’ve ever seen. His… tastes are expensive. He thinks nothing of losing five million at the tables, and he nearly bankrupted himself ten years ago.”
“Ten years ago doesn’t help us today,” Coilin observed caustically.
“No, but to make as much money as he needs, he’s taken some very risky investments. I mean, really risky. There are a lot of speculative derivatives in emerging markets that have made him rich but could collapse at any moment, credit default swaps, leveraging margin debts, that kind of thing.”
“I’m going to pretend I know what you’re talking about, but go on. How do you know all this kind of stuff, anyway?”
“His brother,” Karla interrupted. “He’s quite a financial wizard. He was the one who first put Hayden onto Valmont.”
“So we’ve got that bastard to blame for all this, have we?”
Hayden looked pained. “He has a talent for spotting gamblers. He knew that I needed money and…” He shrugged.
“His original suggestion would have been better, if you’d listened to him,” Karla added.
“Oh?” Coilin was both intrigued and confused.
With another sigh, Hayden realised that he was not going to be let off without an explanation. “Valmont takes incredible risks—I mean, unbelievable ones. Some of these investments he’s got make Lehman Brothers look like a safe bet. He’s greedy, almost psychotically so—”
“Definitely psychotic,” Karla murmured.
“In any case, he pushes investors into taking gambles that you’d have thought would be impossible after the big crash, but which aren’t. People forget quickly, especially when there’s that much money at stake.”
“And…?”
“And plenty of his investments could be ready to fall. If people could be convinced to hold on when they should sell, the Marquis de Valmont could lose a lot of money. A lot of money.”
“I don’t get it. How was this going to help you?”
Hayden grimaced. “My brother would short sell, betting against the investments: as Valmont’s shares went down, we’d reap the rewards.”
“What would you get out of this?” Coilin was still struggling to see the bigger picture. “Why was he going to help you? Brotherly love?”
“Sibling rivalry, more likely,” Hayden muttered. “Valmont’s investors are greedy, and they’re blind to their greed, but in the end it’s not their money. My job was to keep Valmont occupied so that he wouldn’t know what was going on.”
“Which is where I was to come in,” Karla said. “I’d be the bait so that Valmont’s attention would be elsewhere.”
“But it was all too complicated. In the end, it just seemed easier to go for ten million. That way I wouldn’t have to give my brother anything either.”
“Ah,” Coilin said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “I do love how you English families look out for each other.”
“Like I said, sibling rivalry.”
Coilin frowned. “This sounds way too complicated.”
“I already said that.”
“It doesn’t matter how complicated it is,” Karla added, leaning forward, her face deadly serious. “It’s the best chance we have to hurt Valmont—probably the only chance.”
“So what are you going to do? And why am I here, other than to offer you my professional advice that you should keep away from this bastard. Yes, he’s a very sick and twisted man, but I honestly don’t think you can pull this off. It will take too long.”
“Barings,” said Karla. Coilin stared at her incomprehensibly.
“The bank,” Hayden explained. “You remember? One rogue trader brought it down in the mid-nineties. It was pretty much over in a weekend, and Valmont’s not that rich.”
“And Toby’s willing to do it,” Karla said with a slow smile.
“Who the feck is Toby?” Coilin asked, ignoring Hayden’s shocked stare.
“You spoke to Tobias?”
“He prefers Toby. He told me. We spoke yesterday. He thought you’d got cold feet—and he had a lot of interesting things to tell me about you. I really shouldn’t associate with rogues, but then I can’t help falling for them.”
“You didn’t fall for Valmont,” Coilin observed.
“I said rogues, not psychos, Uncle.” She turned to face Hayden. “He thinks the conditions are as perfect as they’ll ever be. I’ve also been in touch with Valmont.”
“What!” Both Coilin and Hayden exclaimed simultaneously.
“That took a little more effort, but I appealed to his vanity. I said that I’d had to go to appease you, that you felt you couldn’t beat him, that you were afraid of losing me—blah blah blah. I don’t care how rich you are, if you have a dick between your legs it still stops you from being able to think clearly. He’s coming to Monaco.”
“When?”
Karla looked at her watch. “I believe his flight gets in at 5.15 this afternoon, and he’s already made arrangements with the casino.”
“Jesus Christ, Karla!” Hayden exploded. “You can’t expect me to go up against him tonight! I can’t… I can’t do it! You can’t expect me to look him in the face, keep my cool and win, can you?”
She bit her lip and, for a moment, Coilin thought her face displayed fear for a moment.
“You’re not going to win. You’re going to lose.”
“What?” Hayden’s features were reddening with shock and anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re going to lose—slowly,” she said, considering each of her words. “There’s no way the casino will let either of you use a mobile at the table—I’ve checked: they block calls. For a few hours, Valmont will have no idea what’s going on in the outside world, but if you win he’s going to need to make a transfer, and then the game’s up. We need to give Toby as much time as possible.”
“Oh God, oh bloody hell!” Hayden’s face dipped into his hands. “I won’t do it. I won’t!”
“For heaven’s sake, Hayden. Don’t let your pride get in the way of this.”
“It’s not pride!” His hand shot away and he glared at her, his face suffused with rage and pain. “I nearly lost you to that filth! I won’t do it again!”
For a few moments Karla stared at Hayden, and Coilin could clearly see emotions struggling behind her eyes. Eventually, she clasped his hand. “Oh, Hayden. You’re not going to lose me. You’re going to lose the game, that’s all.”
“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled, his face turning red with anger.
Coilin clasped his hands together beneath his chin. “You’re absolutely serious about this, aren’t you.”
“Yes, Uncle. I am.”
“And what do you want me to do?”
“You need to go to the police and get them to arrest Valmont at… let’s see. By ten o’clock, he should be cleared out.”
“Why don’t you just have him arrested now?” Hayden asked. “I won’t do this!”
It was Coilin who answered. “Because he�
��ll know we’re on to him. He’ll have a chance to contact his lawyers and they’ll be especially wary of any activities pertaining to his affairs, whatever those may be.”
“He’s vain, Hayden,” she said, squeezing his hand. “That’s his blindness. We’re going to use it to get him.”
“You really want to nail this son of a bitch, don’t you.”
Karla turned her green eyes and stared directly at her uncle.
“I want that bastard to rot in hell.”
Chapter Fifteen: Valmont
Valmont was amused. It had been less than a month since he’d been in the same casino in Monte Carlo, although this time in a different room. The staff had been more than compliant when it came to such arrangements: after all, whatever the outcome, they were sure to do very well out of this. In addition, although Jeanne and Sebastian didn’t know it, Valmont also had a say in choosing the dealer, a woman he’d used before by the name of Marie. It was, of course, strictly against the rules but then this entire game was somewhat unorthodox.
The call from Jeanne had been unexpected but she had quickly charmed him—or, perhaps more precisely, he had allowed himself to be charmed. Sebastian, it seemed, had gotten cold feet at de Tour, which was certainly true: that after all had been Valmont’s intention all along. As she had told him, either she would be a much richer woman by the end of the evening or he would have a night with her which, as she made quite clear, was the prelude to something much more on her part.
Ah, Jeanne, Jeanne, he thought to himself. How little you know.
Ever since they (and Eloise) had left Chateau de Tour, Valmont had one of his members of staff do a little digging around. Sebastian Rider had drawn pretty much a blank when searching more than six month’s previously, which in itself was suspicious. Jeanne Duval, however, had turned up something very interesting which at first had annoyed Valmont, then intrigued and finally fascinated him.
He did not know who Jeanne Duval really was, nor what she was really after. He did, however, know that she was not the woman she said she was. As he waited for them the pair of them to arrive at the private table he had arranged, Latour standing in one corner, Valmont smirked at the fact they did not know that he was onto them. As for Eloise, he would not allow himself to become sentimental on that score: what was important now was to keep her death out of the media and prevent any unfortunate connection to himself. Of the newspapers that mattered, he’d easily had his connections whisper in a few ears at Libération although the rag Aujuord’hui was digging around for dirt: a dead porn star was, in the end, too tempting for such a tabloid. No matter: that would end of its own accord.
As Sebastian and Jeanne (for the moment, Valmont allowed himself to think of the pair in those terms) entered the room, he stood and smiled graciously. Jeanne, dressed in a long, dark red cocktail dress cut low at the front to display her marvellous décolletage, returned his smile with warmth, her eyes glittering as brightly as the diamond earrings she wore.
For his part, Sebastian looked dapper in a white jacket that fitted his broad, tall shoulders as impeccably as ever, but in his face Valmont could see the mildest indication that he did not wish to be there. How the tables had turned! When last they had met in Monte Carlo, Jeanne had been the most reluctant, but now it was Sebastian’s nervous tic that indicated his unwillingness. For all that he’d apparently neglected the Englishman while at de Tour, Valmont had made a thorough study of his telling reactions. He wondered whether Sebastian Rider was all he really claimed to be—a dupe, perhaps, of the beautiful woman at his side. Then he remembered the flashes of real intelligence he’d seen from time to time: there was certainly more to this man than he claimed. In one sense, none of this mattered: tonight both of them would lose.
“Monsieur Rider,” he said and then, opening his arms he breathed: “Jeanne. You look more beautiful than ever.”
“Thank you, Donatien,” she said, quickly lifting herself on her feet and accepting his kiss. For the briefest instant, Valmont thought he saw a strange expression in her eyes but it was gone almost immediately.
“This is a… very nice room you have here, Valmont,” Sebastian replied somewhat grudgingly, avoiding eye contact with either the Marquis or Jeanne. As he spoke, he pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. Valmont laughed.
“I hope that you’re not looking for additional help, Monsieur Rider. You must know that I couldn’t possibly allow you to cheat.”
Sebastian shrugged and quickly slipped the phone away. “No. I was just checking something.”
Relinquishing Jeanne’s hand, Valmont took his seat on the other side of the dealer. Marie gave only the three of them the most cursory of glances.
“Gentlemen,” she said, ignoring Jeanne. “If you are ready, I shall remind you of the rules.” Marie’s face was somewhat bland in its prettiness other than a certain slight masculinity, but then Valmont had selected her for something more than her looks.
“Certainly,” he responded. Sebastian nodded.
“Monsieur le Marquis has suggested piquet as best suited for two players, and you have agreed, Monsieur Rider. That is correct?”
Again, Sebastian said nothing but simply nodded, his eyes warily watching Valmont. That made the Marquis feel better: if Sebastian lost his psychological edge too quickly, that would taint Valmont’s pleasure when he finally humiliated the Englishman.
“Piquet is one of our noblest games,” Valmont said warmly for Jeanne’s benefit. For half a millennium we’ve played it here in France.” He realised that Marie was waiting to continue and so inclined his head towards her.
“The stakes are for ten million on the part of Monsieur le Marquis, against the use of Madame Duval for whatever purposes the Marquis sees fit, that is correct?”
“Yes,” purred Valmont. Sebastian gulped and then nodded while Jeanne’s eyes glowed as she regarded Valmont. She lifted a hand to her eyes for a second.
“Is there a problem, Jeanne?” Valmont asked.
She shook her head. “It’s just the excitement of what’s happening.”
“Oh, and this will be exciting. And you remain satisfied with our wager, Monsieur Rider? Perhaps you don’t know enough about piquet to consider it fair.”
For the first time Sebastian’s smile was unforced. “Oh, there’s no card game that can hold me back, Valmont.”
The Marquis laughed quietly at this and leaned back in his chair while Marie continued. “For each stage of the game, both parties have agreed a series of tokens.” Here she gestured towards the chips no the table. “When all the tokens have been been won, the game is complete.”
As both parties assented, the dealer opened two packs of cards and removed all the cards of lower value than a seven. There had been no need to tamper with the decks: Marie’s particular skills were far more refined than that. Each of them placed the agreed stake—representing a sixth of Valmont’s ten million—and Marie completed her task.
While she dealt out the cards and laid them face down on the table, Valmont pressed his fingers together beneath his chin, apparently ignoring Jeanne whose eyes were fixed on the cards and concentrating on Sebastian. “Did you know that piquet was one of the favourite games of the Prince de Talleyrand?”
“No,” Sebastian replied, his eyes flickering up towards Valmont then returning to the array on the table. “But something tells me that you’re going to enlighten us.”
Valmont smiled at this. “Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord—now there was a gambler! But he was a man whose stakes were the highest crowns and thrones of Europe. The only man to survive both the Revolution and Napoleon. On the day of the 18th Brumaire, when the Republic fell, he remained at home playing the game: he always liked to make himself as comfortable as possible when heads rolled.”
“Fascinating,” Sebastian said flatly, avoiding Valmont’s eyes.
“Ah, but I see that such information is… how does the saying go? Oh, yes—pearls before swine. Why don’t you draw, Monsieur Rider
?”
Sebastian did so and laid an eight on the table, his eyebrow rising as he did so and the faintest smile on his lips. Beat that, he appeared to say.
“Would you care to take a card, Monsieur le Marquis?” Marie asked. That was the pre-arranged signal for the fourth card from the left. Valmont nodded and turned it. A seven. “You are to be the elder, Monsieur Rider, and I the younger.”
“Such quaint notions,” Jeanne observed. “Sebastian refused to tell me what they meant.”
“Then let me take this opportunity to elucidate,” Valmont replied as he lifted the second deck of cards and began to shuffle. “The dealer is the younger, the other player the elder. In this instance, I shall deal first and then we shall alternate.” He paused, passing the cards to Marie who in turn passed them to Sebastian to cut. Marie then placed the two piles before Valmont so deftly that even he couldn’t see her manipulations.
“When each of us is dealt a hand,” Valmont continued as he placed cards before himself and Sebastian in turn, “so we may select from the remaining cards—the Talon—to make the best combination. The player with the highest number of points wins the hand. It is slightly more complicated than poker, but then I recall how much you enjoyed that, Jeanne.”
Jeanne smiled flirtatiously. “And I also remembered how badly I played,” she murmured.
“Then let us hope that Monsieur Rider has more luck this evening.”
Lifting his cards, Sebastian considered them carefully, his face stony now as he ignored the banter between the other two. “I’ll exchange three cards,” he said quietly, directing his attention briefly towards Marie who then nodded and turned to Valmont.
“And you, Monsieur Valmont?”
That was his cue. “I shall take four,” he said with a slight sigh, all the while feeling his spirits rise.
Each of them focussed on their cards for a moment. “Point of four,” said Sebastian, flatly.
Valmont nodded. “How many?” he asked.
“Thirty-seven.”
“Not good,” Valmont replied, smiling. “I have thirty-nine.”
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