‘Not a whisper, ‘confirmed Lazare before he stood up and left the room.
36
Strategically positioned in the middle of a vast split-level room in the east wing of his Swiss mountain fortress, Zoran sat working at a large circular desk, surrounded by half a dozen or more computer screens displaying multimedia information from numerous global databases. The double height vaulted ceilings gave an almost cathedral atmosphere to this vast space. Far from being a place of worship, people with a multiplicity of functions rushed about in all directions in the busy Command Center. Multi-touch computer screens and state of the art telecom equipment adorned every work station. Football-stadium-sized flat screens displaying satellite images of ship movements around the globe, completely covered one section of the room.
‘Listen carefully,’ spoke the man with the gold rimmed circular spectacles into a headset to one of his generals. ‘You must find the American Doctor and closely monitor his every move. Understood?’
‘Of course, Mr. Zoran.’
‘At all costs, you must find the glass vial and bring it here to me. This is of the utmost priority. ‘iDrug’ will neutralize all bacteria and viruses, effectively eliminating the threat posed by Biological warfare. We cannot allow this to happen’
‘Consider it done, Mr. Zoran.’
37
The couple checked out of their hotel in Porte Dorée and moved to another ‘hiding place’ in St. Germaine, central Paris keeping one step ahead of police. Parker, lying on the bed, phoned Durand while Nicole sat reading an article about herself in the newspaper.
‘Raoul, we retrieved Karl’s CDs from the bank vault, not without some challenging stunts to avoid police after we left the bank. Thanks for the tip-off.’
‘Don’t mention it. Were the CDs any help?’
‘We don’t know. As luck would have it, they’re all password protected with some deeply encrypted code. The only one who might know the password is Philips, so we must find him as quickly as possible. I think I know where we can start looking!’
‘Oh?’
‘Nicole believes he has a weekend retreat somewhere in the South of France. She accidently saw a bank mortgage statement on Philips’s desk at the offices in Zurich about two years ago. She clearly remembered seeing an address of a property in Villefranche-Sur-Mer on the Côte d’Azur.’
‘Well it’s worth checking this address out. I’ll see what I can find out through my contacts.’
‘I need to ask you another favor. Can you ask Maurice to fly the two of us across the Channel to Cornwall? We can’t stay here. It’s far too risky. Meyer is in town and on our tail.’
‘I’m fast running out of brownie points with Maurice. I’ll see what I can do. He had detectives around to his depot at Paris-Charles de Gaulle after the last escapade in Switzerland.’
‘Is he in trouble?’
‘No! He was able to talk his way out of difficulty, this time.’
‘Certainly, after our stunt at the bank, they’re going to step up their efforts to arrest Nicole.’
‘OK Harry. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Are you still in hospital?’
‘Yes, but I’ll be out this afternoon.’
‘Good. Call me when you get the chopper sorted.’ Parker hung up.
The pair had time on their hands as they could do nothing with the CDs. They decided to dine out that evening in a small restaurant close to their hotel.
It was a dark, cozy, intimate place. Three red candles illuminated their table. Parker looked at Nicole and thought how beautiful she looked in the flickering candle light in her black dress, her long dark hair parted in the middle and gracefully pinned up in small plats at the side.
For the first time in days which felt like months, they relaxed and soaked up the atmosphere of this quaint little Parisian restaurant. Over the last week they had been pushed into a dangerous world of international conspiracy, a deadly cat and mouse chase where their very survival depended on keeping one step ahead of the thugs that murdered Karl.
Against this back drop, he was now fully committed to seeing this whole nasty affair through to the bitter end. He had form in such situations, steady under fire, proven many times over during an earlier period in his life he would rather forget.
But tonight, was different. He was sitting in a quiet restaurant in the middle of Paris, drinking a glass of fine Burgundy Pinot Noir in the company of the stunning Nicole Lehman.
After dinner they sat and chatted to each other in the candle light until midnight. She described her life with Karl and her longing to return to Zurich, to normality, as far as that could be without her late husband.
They left the restaurant and went for a walk along the left bank looking like a happy every-day couple on holiday, strolling around the streets of Paris without a care in the world.
‘I’m enjoying this evening Harry.’
‘Yes, and that meal was wonderful too.’
‘No. I mean I’m really enjoying your company.’
‘Steady on Ms. Lehman. You’re supposed to be my client.’
Nicole laughed aloud. Parker laughed. He was very happy in her company. On this night at this precise moment, these two people were in the same zone, sharing the moment with growing mutual affection.
They hailed a taxi and soon arrived back at the hotel and went straight to their room. Nicole went into the bathroom and emerged a little later wearing a low-cut blue silk night dress.
He put his arms around her and softly kissed her on the lips.
‘Is this the way you say goodnight to all your clients, Dr. Parker? She gently backed away without waiting for a reply and slid in between the sheets.
‘Only the very special ones!’
He turned off the lights and lay down on the couch. Nicole lay awake thinking about the night she had just spent and how slightly strange the whole evening had felt being with someone else and not Karl. She felt a relationship with Parker starting to blossom and wondered how far she should let it develop. It was far too soon. Memories of Karl were still very much a part of her life and still defined who she was. She tried to reconcile these conflicting emotions in her mind before she slowly succumbed to the sandman and fell fast asleep.
38
Philips plunged into the deep blue sea in the Côte d’Azur for a refreshing swim. He bobbed about in the tepid water feeling relaxed and at ease with the world under a ‘blue umbrella’ sky. After a glorious fifteen minutes he got back out, picked up his beach towel and dried himself off while looking around admiring the wonderful vista of Villefranche sur Mer. Perched below a headland that jutted out into the Mediterranean Sea close to Nice, the village was situated on the edge of a deep ocean bay where cruise liners anchored there while passengers visited nearby Monaco and Monte Carlo. Plage des Marinières, where he stood, is located at the north end of the bay. It stretches for one kilometer under the track of the railway line linking Nice to Italy. The old town of Villefranche is the area huddled around the port. Its ancient pastel-colored buildings, narrow hilly streets and archways are typical of Provence. Dr. Philips left the beach and walked up through a covered street that runs underneath the old buildings. A local told him it served as an Air Raid shelter during the Second World War. The quaint mediaeval cobbled alleyways and exclusively pedestrian streets of cobble stone, set on many distinct levels, are inter-connected by steep stone steps serving the medieval buildings and town houses.
Philips arrived back at his town house, poured himself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and sat looking out over the balcony at the blue clear water of Rade de Villefranche-sur -Mer pondering his future. He had betrayed Lehman by accepting the law firm’s offer not to continue with the research program. However, he felt confident the same fate would not befall him. After all, he had gone along with the law firm’s request to delay the research work for six months. But now he felt constrained by the agreement. He may have to lie low for a long time and wait helplessly while the Russians
progress unabated to claim the big prize of being first to publish. Philips thought about contacting the law firm in New York and offering to give back the money and getting out of the contract he had signed up to. He had enough money of his own put aside which would sustain him for the next twelve months. He thought better about this idea after some consideration. This he decided would be suicide. He firmly believed the company, represented by Westland Fitzgerald were responsible for Lehman’s death despite what the FBI reported to Nicole. Best avoid any further contact with these people. Philips would have to be extra cautious. He was constantly reminded how this whole affair had very quickly spiraled out of control every time he read reports of the police hunt for Nicole Lehman in the newspapers. He had specific iDrug information that could help her in her quest to complete the deal with the medical device company; he could not however bring himself to contacting her even by phone. He knew she blamed him for what happened to Karl.
In Villefranche he felt safe and secure. He had worked hard for the last two years on the project with Karl and the sudden stoppage was difficult to come to terms with. He further contemplated remaining where he was until things settled down. However, he was sorely tempted to contact the Russian research team. They were six months behind in their development of a similar Microbot device and probably catching up fast. He had no problem selling out to the opposition if that was his only option. He needed more money to reach his goal of becoming financially independent by fifty and he wasn’t going to let any loyalty issues get in his way. He was never going to be a major beneficiary of the patents owned by Lehman & Philips SA being a very junior partner in the firm with a token two and a half percent stake holding. Nicole was the principle surviving beneficiary. Philips reckoned if he wanted to achieve his financial goals, he would have to negotiate with the Russians and broker a deal with them. Being a skilled molecular microbiologist, he was in the driving seat on this momentous scientific breakthrough and he was determined to make it pay no matter what. He decided to strike while the iron was hot. Without further consideration, he picked up the phone and called the head of the Russian research team, Professor Dmitri Obolensky in Moscow.
39
The next morning Parker awoke to the buzzing sound of his mobile phone.
‘Harry! Good news,’ exclaimed Durand. ‘Maurice must collect a VIP this afternoon in London and fly him to Paris for a meeting later this evening. He can smuggle the two of you on board at 2pm on the outbound flight. He thinks the best place to board is at Chantilly race course. There is a big race meeting there today as luck would have it, so you will both be able to blend in seamlessly with the large crowd.’
‘Simply perfect Raoul. We’re indebted to you and Maurice. Please tell him we will gladly cover all his costs with interest.’
‘No problem. All in good time.’
‘We’ll head to the race course at about 1:30pm. By the way Raoul, we may be in the UK for some time. We will keep in touch by phone. We have to track down Philips no matter what.’
‘I’m working on it,’ responded Durand before hanging up.
They checked out of their hotel and took a taxi to Chantilly arriving there shortly after 1:30pm. Nicole wore the blond wig and sun glasses.
The couple moved through the large race crowd and made their way to the Heliport area. Race day at Chantilly is quite an amazing spectacle. The town, some forty kilometers north of Paris, changes tack from provincial normality to cosmopolitan glitz and glamour. Women elegantly clad in their finest headgear, high heels, dresses and suit jackets, stood around in groups with their well-heeled partners for a fun filled day at the races.
Maurice picked out the couple in the crowd watching them in the distance calmly mingling with the race goers while they walked towards the helicopter.
He quickly gestured to the couple before he opened the door of the aircraft, anxious that somebody might spot them in the crowd.
They boarded the aircraft and the helicopter took off five minutes later, bound for London with a ‘slight’ diversion to the south Cornish coast.
About forty-five minutes later the helicopter circled above Parker’s country house, Grasmere Cottage, on the outskirts of St. Austell, Cornwall, England.
The very extensive cottage, built on the side of a hill, overlooked the English Channel.
The helicopter landed on the large expansive lawn in front of the house. The couple disembarked with their light luggage.
‘I don’t know how we can ever thank you enough, Maurice. We will forward your expenses without fail’
‘Don’t worry. I owe Durand a large debt of gratitude, believe me!’
Standing at the edge of the lawn, the couple waved goodbye to Maurice as the helicopter quickly ascended and flew off towards London.
Parker, true to form, had arrived prepared. He carried a shopping bag full of essential supplies including the best fillet steak from an up-market boucherie in Paris.
Nicole looked around the grounds of the country ‘cottage’ seeing a large L-shaped, two-storey stone wall structure with a slate roof and a quaint Georgian timber porch at the front. A double garage stood on the opposite side of the extensive front court yard beside old coach-house buildings.
‘Wow, I thought you said this was a small intimate place Harry?
‘Well! Grasmere Cottage is intimate. There is only you and me here. I never actually said it was small.’
‘Where do the steps lead down to?’ she asked pointing to stone steps and wooden handrails beside the double garage.
‘Down to a small secluded beach. I’ll take you there later. It’s divine here in the summer. The sunny south west of England is every bit as nice as northern France during the summer months you know.’ Parker was being a little defensive.
Nicole responded nonchalantly not wanting to offend her gracious host. ‘I have no reason to doubt you Harry.’ She knew how touchy some Britons were about their weather.
They went inside, and he showed Nicole to her room. A short while later she came down stairs and Parker brought her around the rest of the extensive property. Four spacious reception rooms occupied a large part of the ground floor. A study and a large natural stone walled kitchen with a pantry room were located towards the rear of the cottage. Large timber beams spanned across the kitchen ceiling and beautifully crafted skylights filled the space with light on this April afternoon. A large central island contained a myriad of modern conveniences, granite work-tops and presses lined the walls on three sides incorporating a large gas fired range.
‘This is truly a beautiful place you have here.’
‘Yes, it was bought by my family way back in the early eighties as a summer retreat. I have many fond memories here during my childhood, spending the summer months with all my family. When my father died about twelve years ago, his estate was divided up amongst my siblings. I was the lucky one to be left Grasmere Cottage. My mother used come down to stay every July for short stays until she passed away five years ago.’
‘My condolences. You must have been very close to her?’
‘Yes. Mum was a very thoughtful, kind person. Although we had a nanny, she always kept us close to her side when we were young children and made sure she tucked us into bed every night. It’s hard to believe she’s no longer here.’
He quickly changed the conversation seeing Nicole looking upset.
‘Come on let’s go for a walk on the beach. It’s a lovely mild afternoon for April.’
The pair walked down the stone steps from the house to a small cove with a wonderful sandy beach. They sat down on a small outcrop of rocks at the edge of the shore
‘We had many happy summers here, ‘recalled Parker.
‘Did all your family come here together to holiday?’
‘Yes! All six of us, three brothers and my two sisters. The numbers grew to eight or ten during July with one or more of us inviting school chums down from London. We spend hours here on this beach swimming, surfing and sailing dinghies. Ove
r there you can see caves cut into the rocks. They go in quite far. We were forbidden to go anywhere near them. My father told us there was a giant Sea Serpent living in there and it would gobble us up alive.’
Nicole laughed.
He pointed to a distant outcrop of rocks jutting into the sea. ‘That’s where I fell madly in love with a girl called Melony one summer. She was from America, a school friend of my older sister. I don’t think the poor girl realized how much I was taken by her. Her American accent, the way she spoke, her style, the clothes she wore, and her scent, all wonderfully different. I can still remember the perfume she wore. I also remember how shy and awkward I was, typical of a sixteen-year-old I suppose. I got talking to her on my own just the one time in that whole week, sitting over there on those rocks. I can’t remember what I said; nothing very important I’m sure. She was very sweet. Whatever I said or maybe it was more my body language, she told me she already had a boyfriend ‘back home ‘in the States. That was the end of that.’
‘Poor old Harry. Look what she missed!’
‘All I got was a peck on the cheek when she left the following week. Never saw her again.’
Parker turned towards Nicole and looked into her beautiful brown eyes. ‘Let’s go back up to the house and have champagne.’
When they got back, he escorted his guest to her room carrying her luggage up the stairs. It was a large bedroom en-suite overlooking the garden and commanding a panoramic view of the sea.
‘You can settle in here while I go down to the cellar and fetch a bottle of Bollinger.’
‘Bollinger? I am impressed.’
‘Special occasion!’ he remarked before disappearing down stairs.
Nicole went to the window and looked out at the sea. It was a great comfort for her to feel the sea separating her from her troubles that lay far away, well beyond the distant horizon she was gazing at. She thought of Karl and tried to come to terms with her guilt, being here alone in this house with a relative stranger. She could sense his growing attraction towards her.
The Karl Lehman Affair Page 12