‘My lucky day!’
He was soon in a cab travelling to the Metro station at La Place de la Concorde. He decided to buy sun glasses and a cap he saw in a Kiosk beside the station. This would hide his identity just in case he had been photographed earlier. He went to the ticket machine, got a single journey ticket and quickly descended on the escalator. About fifty people stood on the platform. It was quiet at that time of the morning.
The next Metro arrived two minutes later. He looked around to see if anybody was acting suspiciously. An old wino was lying on the ground, totally out of it.
‘No problem there,’ he thought.
The doors of the Metro tramcars opened, and people got off. Parker stepped on to one of the middle cars. Looking left and right, keeping a watchful eye out for any peculiar behavior, he turned around and stood facing the open door. Just as the automatic doors started to close, he quickly moved forward and stepped off the train. He waited to see if anybody else did the same. To his relief nobody got back off.
Everybody that previously alighted from the railcar had now disappeared up the escalator. The only remaining stranger on the platform was the comatose wino still lying on the ground. He viewed him with less suspicion while he waited five minutes for the next Metro. He travelled about eight or ten stops down the line and arrived at Porte de Versailles. Emerging at street level he saw a sign for a multi-storey parking lot at the end of the street. Within two minutes he was in the lift going up to the third level. He immediately spotted the silver 3-Series BMW over in a corner on level 3. He tried the door and it clicked open. Once inside he entered Nicole’s date of birth 15031982 and the glove compartment unlocked.
‘Would there be anything inside or is this where the trail runs cold?’ He pulled the compartment door open with more than a little apprehension.
13
Shortly after 8:00 pm the Marseille twins drove to the Life Science Technology park entrance north of Zurich in a small pick-up truck. One twin read the site map as they slowly approached the security gate and stopped at the barrier.
The young security guard’s eyes were glued to a small portable flat screen TV watching Champions League soccer His team was losing 1-0.
‘Who the fuck is this at this time of the night,’ muttered the uniformed guard moving his eyes momentarily away from the screen. ‘I can’t see the fuckin driver. Ah, they’re ok!’ he quickly decided when he saw the familiar ‘Eco-Clean’ Office Waste Recycling sign on the side of the truck.
He raised the barrier and let the truck through, unwilling to deflect any more attention away from the Football.
Following the map, the twins went along the main avenue and took the second turn on the left and stopped in front of the third building on the right. A large sign over the main entrance door displayed ‘Lehman & Philips SA’. The building, a medium sized four-storey industrial unit, had been converted into a fully functioning medical clinic. The pair drove the truck around the side and parked in a dark corner of the yard. The place was deserted. All lights were off except for a small security light that illuminated the reception area.
They sat in the truck and studied an electrical services drawing provided by the ‘voice’. They quickly identified the panels that fed the building’s alarm system and made their way to the rear of the building, taking a metal case and a twenty-liter plastic container with them. They carefully prized open a fire escape door with a crowbar and entered the building. They knew they had only sixty seconds before the alarm went off. They could hear the regular beeping noise coming from the security panel at the front of the premises. They went straight to the panel and disabled it, cutting the power to the alarm system in the process. Working under torch light they placed incendiary devices, set with a time delay of thirty minutes, in each clinical procedure room and the half dozen or so offices. The rooms were crammed with filing cabinets, paper records, test samples and medical equipment.
They sprinkled gasoline from the plastic container over the whole area before departing.
Spotting a fire proof cabinet bolted to a wall, they used a crowbar to lever it off and carry it away.
Exiting the rear of the clinic, the two quickly walked back to the truck. They placed the cabinet in the back of the vehicle before driving back towards the exit.
The guard’s eyes were still glued to the portable TV and didn’t notice the approaching vehicle. When the truck came to a stop outside, the driver sounded the horn. The guard waved his arm in the air without taking his eyes off the screen and immediately raised the barrier. The truck quickly headed out onto the motorway before disappearing into the night.
14
‘We’re suckin’ diesel’ thought Parker on seeing a bulky white envelope lying inside the glove compartment. He found car keys and a note inside.
‘Doctor Parker, now that you have reached the car, check you are not being followed. Please drive due south from Paris on the A6 and at Le Pay take the A77Autoroute to Pouilly-sur-Loire. When you approach the village, Château du Zeton is on the left-hand side of the motorway. Exit at junction 15. When you arrive at the gates, give the security guards your name. They will be expecting you over the next few days. Nicole
Parker had an uneventful two-hour drive south along the A77 from Paris. He checked his rear-view mirror every so often checking nobody was following him. At Auxerre / Saint Fargeau junction, he pulled off the motorway and drove towards Saint Fargeau before doubling back onto the motorway, making sure nobody was tailing him.
When he approached junction 15, twenty minutes later, he saw a sign for Pouilly-sur-Loire and Château Du Zeton. Leaving the motorway, he drove for a few more miles along a narrow country road through the Loire valley.
Popping up every so often above the hedgerows, he could see the roof and walls of a large castle-like structure in the distance. While he rounded the last bend in the road, he saw it in its full grace and beauty, Château Du Zeton. Its appearance and structure were a cross between a Gothic fortification, a Renaissance palace and a fairy tale castle. Lofty towers with conical roofs, pilasters supporting classical parapets, steeply pitched main roofs with dormer windows all combining to create a wonderful miscellany of architectural motifs, built in its hollow of smooth grassland and rich green lawns.
He approached the château’s perimeter and saw a sign warning that security guards manned the premises. Tall granite walls encircled the entire estate while large steel plated gates hung from stout concrete pillars at the entrance. A security guard emerged from a side door and approached the car.
‘Bonjour Monsieur. Comment puis-je vous aider?’
‘I’m Dr. Harry Parker. I’m here to see Ms. Nicole Lehman.’
Dressed in an impeccable dark navy uniform, the guard responded politely in fluent English. ‘Ah yes, Dr. Parker, we have been expecting you. You must excuse the closed gates. This is not one of our open days for tourists.’
The guard disappeared back inside and moments later, the large gates began to swing open. He drove in and stopped at the security barrier. The guard inside his cabin spoke into his Walkie-Talkie to announce Parker’s arrival.
He could now take in the whole scenario of the château and its picturesque surroundings. Beautiful landscaped gardens with manicured lawns surrounded the château on three sides. The grounds rose gently to a woodland area located far away on the top of a hill. Trees and large mature shrubs dotted around the grounds created a wonderful harmony between man-made structures and the green rural landscape. Parker took a deep breath and drank in the smell of freshly cut grass and the fragrance of an anonymous Mediterranean shrub bestowing a mind pleasing, tranquil atmosphere to the surroundings. He felt a tinge of excitement about his imminent encounter with Madame Lehman.
The guard instructed the English visitor to drive down and park his car beside the main door where a member of staff would be waiting for him.
He was about to ring the bell when the hall door opened unexpectedly and a butler in uniform st
ood there ready to greet him. A footman quickly appeared and took charge of his over-night bag while the butler escorted him inside.
The hall was a large rectangular gallery with a grand oak staircase leading to the upper level. Overhead bannisters on all four sides dominated the character of this grand vestibule. A magnificent crystal chandelier hung from the upper ceiling extending down into the middle of the hallway. Dark oak doors provided access to various reception rooms. Going by the sign on the wall, large double doors on the right lead into a magnificent banqueting hall. He noticed paintings by Cezanne and Carot hanging on the walls; the furniture he was certain was Louis XIV.
The butler escorted him into the drawing room on the left. ‘Dr. Parker you are most welcome to Château du Zeton. Your bag is being brought to your room in the east wing.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Parker politely standing just inside the door of this magnificent room.
‘Perhaps you would like something to drink after your journey?’
‘Yes. A small cognac would be wonderful. I’ll take it after I shower.’
‘Of course, Monsieur. Now let me show you to your room.’ He followed the butler out into the hall and up the oak staircase. ‘Ms. Nicole? How is she?’
‘Poor Madame Lehman is still in melancholy mood I’m afraid to say, grieving the death of her husband. She appears however to be holding up well all the same.’
‘And you are?’
‘Michel,’ replied the butler showing him into his room. ‘Your bag Monsieur has been left in the adjoining dressing room.’
‘Well! Thanks Michel for the warm welcome,’ replied the English man handing him a twenty euro note. ‘I’ll go and shower and be back down stairs in twenty minutes.’
‘Merci! Très bien. I will tell Madame Lehman you have arrived safely.’
Parker had a quick shower and dressed himself in casual chinos and a blue striped shirt. He left his room, descended the grand staircase and arrived back in the drawing room where he found himself alone. His glass of cognac had been poured and placed on a small mahogany table beside a large settee. He sat down, picked up the drink and took a sip.
‘A fine Remy Martin champagne Cognac’. He looked around the room in quiet expectation. He noticed more priceless paintings hanging on the walls. The room was dominated by a large marble fire place with large deep alcoves on either side. The drawing room was bright and airy, illuminated by four large sash windows on the south west facing wall allowing an abundance of sunlight to filter through into the room space. He noticed a beautiful stained hardwood floor with a large red colored antique Persian Lavar Kerman rug covering the center of the room. While he sat and waited, he noticed how quiet it was in this rustic mansion. All he could hear was the tick-tock sound of a bronze carriage clock on the mantelpiece over the fire place.
Finally, a voice at the door gently broke the silence. ‘Dr. Parker?’
He looked up and saw the enchanting Nicole Lehman, a dark-haired paragon of beauty with smoldering brown eyes, something to be admired from a distance. He stood up and gently embraced her. Dressed in white tightly hugging jeans and pink sleeveless top, Nicole Lehman was lithe and graceful with a perfectly proportioned body. Her features were unmistakably French, Parisian. Her high cheek bones complemented her stunning aristocratic features while she exuded a calm, sublime sensuality that left a marked impression on Parker. Her perfume was his favorite Chanel fragrance.
‘It must be what? Four years since we last met?’
‘Correct,’ replied Parker a little mesmerized.
‘I’m delighted you came. There is much we need to discuss.’
He noticed she spoke softly, steadily, with a slight undertone of sadness.
‘Please accept my sincere condolences. I was away when it happened and could not be reached. I wanted…..’
‘I completely understand Harry,’ interrupted Nicole in her quintessential French accent, trying to make him feel less uncomfortable. ‘Raoul explained your circumstances to me. Besides, the funeral was private, just family members. So please do not feel bad.’
‘Without question, Karl was magnanimous, creative, courageous, generous to a fault and passionate about his work. A pioneer in his field, he is a great loss to the medical profession.’
‘Thank you, Harry. You are most kind. It is for all these reasons I will not allow his work to be lost,’ she responded with conviction.
Parker noticed while Nicole was outwardly a grieving widow, she exuded an inner steeliness that should sustain her through this challenging time.
Nicole sat down on the settee. ’Have you eaten?’
‘No, not since this morning.’
‘I took the liberty of ordering dinner for two in the dining room for 7:00pm.’
‘Thank you.’
Parker, looking around the room, asked ‘What is your association with Château du Zeton? It appears to be an ideal place to hide away in.’
‘It certainly is. I’m a friend of a friend of the owners so to speak. My close friend Michelle is a cousin of Claudia, the château owners’ daughter. Michelle attended Karl’s funeral in Zurich. I told her I needed somewhere out-of-the-way to stay for a while, so she discreetly contacted the family here and everything quickly fell in to place. The château like you say is ideal to hide away in. The security system is like Fort Knox. There are many priceless paintings hanging on the walls, many valuable ornaments and antique furniture scattered around the place.
‘Does anybody actually live here?’
‘Oh yes! The family, part of a famous French wine growing dynasty, live in Paris during the winter and come down for the late spring and summer months. They open the house to the public three days a week for wine tasting. In fact, the family are not here now. The estate is run by a management company, funded by the family owned vineyards.’
‘Is there any chance you could be traced to here?’
Nicole looked at him thoughtfully and shook her head. ‘No! It’s very unlikely. Somebody might find out about Michelle. However, there’s no direct link to this château.
‘Ok!’
‘I know I have a lot of explaining to do. Much water has flowed under the bridge since we last met in Zurich when the three of us enjoyed such a great weekend together.’
‘I remember it very well. You and Karl were wonderful hosts.’
Nicole looked doleful for a moment. ‘Can you tell me exactly what Raoul told you?’
‘On Karl’s research, he told me very little, only that his work addressed one of the biggest killer diseases in the world today and his breakthrough will be of profound importance to peoples’ lives.’
‘D’accord!’
‘He mentioned Karl’s partner, Philips, a molecular biologist who went to ground shortly after Karl’s death. Raoul said you were suspicious about Karl’s accident, believing it was no accident.’
‘Karl and Dr. Philips were working in a specific area of prosthetic heart valve infections. Karl attended a medical symposium in Trenton, New Jersey about four months before he died. He was the keynote speaker, and in his address, he referred to research work he was carrying out with Dr. Philips. The details he gave were only in broad outline and deliberately vague, or so he thought. However, some journalist in the audience picked-up on what he disclosed, added to it and ran with the story. Karl’s keynote address and references to his research were subsequently reported in the prestigious New England Journal of Medicine and shortly afterwards published in the New York Times.’
Parker looked straight at Nicole. ‘So, Karl inadvertently drew more attention to his research than he intended?’
‘Unfortunately, so and from the wrong sources it would appear. Soon after the publications, Karl got a call from a law firm in New York City saying they represented an organization that wanted to discuss involvement in the research project. So, before he knew it, a meeting was set up in New York involving Karl, Dr. Philips and lawyers from this law firm. First class return flight tickets a
nd a reservation for two nights in the Waldorf Astoria arrived by DHL the next day. Karl and Dr. Philips flew to New York the following week and met the lawyers. They wanted Karl to stop working on their research project for a period of six months and their clients would pay them five million dollars each. The law firm’s client had very large positions in drug stocks and they wanted to buy time to slowly reduce their exposure without precipitating a fire sale before Karl’s iDrug hit the street.’
‘IDrug? What’s that? ‘
‘I‘ll explain about it a little later.’
‘Presumably, knowing Karl, he refused the offer?’
‘Yes of course. Karl thanked the lawyers for their time and their client’s offer but made it very clear there could be no deal. So, Karl and Dr. Philips returned to Zurich and continued as normal.’
‘These guys tried to buy their silence and halt their research? Extraordinary!’
‘Yes!’ said Nicole thoughtfully. ‘Follow up correspondence to Karl and Dr. Philips was ignored. The pressure by the law firm went on for weeks. Karl told me he believes Philips finally succumbed behind Karl’s back and accepted a substantial sum of money from the American law firm not to continue supporting the research effort. Dr. Philips never disclosed how much he received but Karl thought it was far less than the original offer made to both of them.
‘How did Karl take this?’
‘He was furious. He tried to persuade Philips to stay with the program. Most of these conversations ended up in shouting matches.’
‘I wonder how much Philips received.’
‘Karl suspected the American Investment Company did a deal with Philips something along the lines he would get half the money upfront and the rest after he successfully persuaded Karl to delay further research for six months.’
‘Being an academic, why did Philips not continue with the research program?’
‘Dr. Philips you must realize was more susceptible to succumbing to such an offer. Karl was financially independent, having come from a very wealthy family of Bankers in Zurich. Dr. Philips on the other hand was of modest means, had very little money. In fact, I recall Philips discussing University academics’ salaries and was very critical and bitter about the entire system. He felt academics were very clever people, prime movers in many respects, but never getting proper financial recognition for their contribution to society. I remember Philips recounting a Stanford professor who was asked a question by a staff member, ‘If we’re so smart how come we’re not rich.’ Dr. Philips was motivated to leave University campus life by the lure of better financial prospects in the business world. I believe the offer of five million dollars would have proved irresistible to a person like him, despite the fact he would have made this amount if he had stuck by Karl.’
The Karl Lehman Affair Page 5