And then he thought again of Annelise and of Andrew. He knew they were involved somehow, but he knew in his gut that their involvement was unintentional. They had somehow been pulled into this nightmare through no fault of their own, and Jeffrey needed to help drag them out, preferably without damaging himself or the administration in the process. Whatever involvement they had, it could spell catastrophe for the administration. He realized that at this point, keeping Annie out of danger was the same as keeping the administration out of danger. It was one and the same. He had to find out where Annie was and get her back to London safely, before the police found her, and before the dangerous people who were hell bent on destroying all of them found her.
The immediate situation was that Annie was now in real danger. He realized he had no choice. He had to get to Paris, now. But how? The train was out, of course. Most of the time, his official travel was via the Royal Squadron, the short-range airplanes and helicopters reserved for official travel by members of the Royal family and senior politicians. As the situation stood, it wouldn’t be hard to commandeer a VIP plane for a quick trip to where the ill-fated Eurostar had started its last Chunnel journey. He could make a quick trip to “inspect” the emergency operations on the other end of the line, and no one would question his movements.
Jeffrey picked up his phone and dialed the transportation office. Within minutes, he had a BAE 146 plane reserved to pick him up at the London City airport for the quick trip over to Paris. He told them his return flight would be standby, pending his ability to wrap up his business in Paris.
Jeffrey ordered a car to pick him up and deliver him to London City Airport at 6 p.m. His plan was simple and expeditious. He would meet up with Annelise in Paris tonight, talk some sense into her, put her back on the plane with him, and be back in London around midnight. If he played his cards right, he would be back before anyone missed him. He could not deal with this whole mess while Annelise was out wandering around Paris, putting herself and the administration at risk.
Jeffrey picked up his phone again, and typed out a response to Annie. “OK See you at 22:00.” He pressed send.
Down the hall at #10 Downing, Fletcher LaForge looked down at his cellphone screen, watching the rolling dots as Jeffrey Hunter’s response was being composed. In a moment, the familiar ‘ding’ signaled Jeffrey’s response was received: “OK See you at 22:00.”
Fletcher LaForge smiled to himself. Yes, Jeffrey, we will indeed see you tonight in Paris at 10 p.m.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Annie looked down at her watch: it was ten minutes until 9 p.m. She looked up again through the window of the coffee shop on Rue de Crimee’ and squinted at the sign across the street, above Paradigm Books. The light over the sign was still on, as she assumed it would be until 9 p.m., the posted closing time for the shop. She had been sitting here, on and off, almost the entire day, watching the storefront. The paper sign taped to the inside of the front door of the shop said the owner would be back in fifteen minutes. Although that was obviously not the case today, she felt sure he would make an appearance at some point today, and so Annie had no choice but to wait. She was too hungry for information to question the meaning of the sign much. Too afraid to venture too far, she was convinced that Rasul Aziz would materialize at some point, and she could talk to him about Andrew, hopefully piecing together what happened to the man she loved. She needed to glean any information she could uncover about Andrew’s life: what did he know about any terrorist attacks, what the file had meant, and why he had been on the train that night. Rasul was the last person in the world to talk to Andrew, and he was his trusted old friend. Surely Rasul could help her string together some of the missing pieces from this baffling scenario. She’d already decided that at 9 p.m., she would give up, and catch a late plane back to London. She only had a few more minutes to be patient.
At five minutes until 9, Annie noticed a small blue Fiat slowly pull up in front of Paradigm books. She could make out the faint Uber decal in the window. Through the darkness, she could barely make out a dark figure as he got out of the car and hurried to the front door of the store, just as the car pulled away. The figure appeared to be a large dark-haired man, and Annie sucked in her breath. She gathered her purse and jacket, and downed the last drops of her coffee. Exiting the coffee shop, she hurried across the street, just as the man closed the door to Paradigm books behind him and appeared to be locking the front door. Annie rushed up to the door.
Knocking on the front door as loudly as she could, Annie could see the man through the glass front door disappear into the back room. In a moment, the light overhead above the sign clicked off, and Annie was standing on the Rue de Crimee’ alone in the pitch dark. She instantly knew that this was not a safe place for a woman to be standing alone, and certainly not when some strange character had been following her since she got into a cab yesterday afternoon. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she banged on the door and softly called out the name of the man who she hoped would help her.
“Rasul! Rasul!”
The store remained dark and quiet.
“Rasul Aziz! My name is Annelise Craig! I came all the way from London to speak with you! Please let me in!”
She continued to knock until her knuckles were throbbing, repeating her plea for the man who had disappeared into the back room.
“Rasul! Rasul Aziz! Please, my name is Annelise Craig, I was a friend of Andrew’s!”
After what seemed like an eternity, the light above the sign flickered back on, and Annie was once again bathed in light. In a moment, the store lit up, and at the front door a face peered back at her through the glass windowpanes. Annie gasped as the face of a very angry and hostile Middle Eastern man jeered at her through the glass. For a moment, she almost took off running as fast as she could. Surely this man could not be Andrew’s friend. One look into his eyes and Annie felt like she was looking into the eyes of a monster.
But then something moved across the man’s face, and his entire demeanor changed in an instant. The angry scowl turned into a pleasant smile, and his eyes lit up with a friendly gaze. Annie ignored her inner gut instinct and convinced herself that this man was obviously a friend. Her gut had surely been wrong. Opening the door, Rasul smiled and held the door open, Annie stepped inside with trepidation.
“Come inside, please!” Rasul put on his best friendly face. This woman knew about his existence, and she obviously knew Andrew, which meant she was a potential threat to him. Right now, he needed to convince her that he was a friend, at least until he could figure out what to do with her.
“Thank you so much!” She said as she stepped in from the biting cold wind. Rubbing her hands together, she tried to warm her body and put on a smile at the same time, trying to appear friendly on this cold and bleak night.
“I’m so sorry to appear here so late tonight, but I’ve actually been waiting for you all day… My name is Annelise Craig. I’m — was — a friend of Andrew’s.” Annie thrust out her cold right hand, trying to instill a little normality into an otherwise awkward situation.
So, this is the woman Andrew was sleeping with . . . Rasul was thinking to himself, while he stuck out his right hand and shook her hand in return. What is she doing here? he wondered with suspicion.
“Oh, yes, Ms. Craig. I received the voice mail from Jeffrey, but unfortunately I lost my phone yesterday and didn’t have his number. And I’m sorry, but I’ve been very busy. I was called away on a family emergency today. I’ve only just returned. I’m distraught over the terrible tragedy, and of course Andrew’s death. He was a very dear friend. He told me that the two of you were close as well.”
Tears sprang to Annie’s eyes at the mention of Andrew’s name. He had talked to Rasul about her after all. Thank goodness. Maybe Rasul would know something about Andrew’s life as well. Maybe Andrew had talked to Rasul about the file — about any suspicions or theories he had. And maybe, just maybe, he had talked to Rasul about her. Maybe Ras
ul could fill in some of the missing parts of Andrew’s thinking that he kept hidden away from everyone, including her.
“Yes, we were close. Actually, that’s why I’m here. I know this all seems strange right now, me showing up like this out of the blue, but I was very much wondering if we could talk. Could we go for a drink maybe, or coffee, or whatever you want? I just have some questions I’d like to ask you about Andrew. About what you did last weekend when he was here in Paris? What he talked about? I have so many questions about his death, and if he mentioned me at all.”
Annie knew she looked and sounded like some half-desperate, half-crazed woman at this point, but she didn’t care anymore. It was late, she was distraught and exhausted, and somewhere in Paris, someone was still out there trying to find her, and very likely wanting her dead. Her life was a mess, her job was in jeopardy, and she had lost the only man she truly loved. Right now, she felt like there wasn’t anything else left to risk, so the last thing she cared about at this point was what this Middle Eastern stranger thought about her.
At the same time, Rasul was growing more agitated with the situation by the second. Why was this woman here, and what did she know about Andrew’s death? Was she suspicious about Rasul’s involvement in anything Andrew had uncovered? What exactly had Andrew told her?
Rasul realized in a flash that none of his questions mattered. He had to get rid of this lady. Whatever she knew, it was too much. She was a danger to him. She had to go, and fast. With all that Rasul had already done, getting rid of this over-wrought, emotional woman would be no skin off his back.
Rasul had moved to his usual position behind the counter, and stood facing Annie, who was now standing at the back of the shop. While Annelise rambled on, Rasul began to scan the room, analyzing the situation and trying to figure out what the best method would be. Since they were both here in his bookshop, and he had no idea for sure who might know she was here, he needed to get rid of her and leave no trace. No blood, no hair, no fingerprints. She needed to disappear completely. He had no qualms about the task; he’d done this kind of thing many times before.
“Of course, Ms. Craig. Andrew told me so much about you. Certainly, we can go for a drink, I’ll just need to grab a few things in the back and lock the place up. Follow me back to my office and we can leave through the back door.”
With that, Rasul moved toward Annie. He reached for his scarf on the counter. He didn’t like killing women with his bare hands, a scarf would make it easier on both of them. Rasul was so concentrated on the job in front of him, he did not notice the sound of the bookshop door opening behind him. Only the look on Annie’s face alerted him that someone had entered the store. Turning to face the unwanted intruder, Rasul Aziz and Annelise Craig stood face to face with an AK-47 aimed directly at their chests. Instantly, Annelise recognized the man from the cab yesterday, the man who had been following her through the streets of Paris. And now here he was in this bookstore, holding the gun aimed straight at her and Rasul.
Terror raced through Annelise’s body at the sight of the man entering the shop with the gun. Her legs were frozen, and she was unable to move a muscle. She couldn’t run, and she couldn’t scream. Slowly, she backed up against the door to the backroom, and began to cry, her body shaking with desperate fear. She had her back to the storeroom door, but escaping was impossible, he would kill her before she could even get the door open. There was absolutely no way out.
“Please, don’t shoot us. I will give you whatever you want. Please!” Annelise’s voice screeched out of her throat as if she were being strangled.
“Tawqaf! nhan ealaa nfs aljanib lak ahmq!” Rasul shouted in Arabic, and Annelise could not think fast enough. As Rasul shouted, the man with the gun began shouting back, speaking some dialect of Arabic and Annie had no clue what was being said. Her only thought was that she was going to die, right here in this Muslim bookshop, in a Muslim neighborhood in Paris with two men she did not know. She was petrified with fear.
“Rasul! Tell him we are innocent! He told me his name is Tom Khan in a cab yesterday, and I have no idea why he has been following me, and I don’t know anything. I will give him my purse, or whatever else he wants, just please don’t kill us!” Annelise was crying and shaking, and begging Rasul to help save them.
At that moment, she had no clue that Rasul was trying to convince Akeem that he and Akeem were on the same side of this fight.
“Kill the bitch!” he yelled in Arabic. “We are brothers!”
Nothing Rasul was saying was having any effect on the man with the gun — that much Annie could plainly see. In a moment, Tom Khan — or whatever his name was — began gesturing wildly for them to move outside, onto the dark street. Annie and Rasul, with the gunman close behind, walked out of the bookshop and onto the sidewalk in front of the store. As they exited the building, a black SUV screeched to a halt right in front of the store, and the man with the gun edged toward the car motioning for them to get in. Rasul kept screeching in Arabic and now the man with the gun began telling him to “Shut Up” in English. That much Annie could understand. Annie realized that Rasul’s attempts to save them were having no effect.
Annie and Rasul shuffled into the back seat, and Tom Khan butted Rasul’s head with his gun for good measure as he slammed the door. He then climbed into the front seat and pivoted so that he could keep the gun aimed squarely at their heads. The driver was a young man with blondish hair and indecipherable origin who never looked back or said a word. He just drove. Squealing away from the curb in front of the bookshop, the foursome drove into the night, and Annie had no idea where they might be going. She realized that she was probably going to die tonight, and no one could save her now, not Andrew, not Jeffrey, not the British government, and from the looks of it, not Rasul either. She dropped her face to her chest and began to sob.
CHAPTER FORTY
The grinding of the landing gear descending into position awoke Jorge from a deep sleep. He raised his window shade and looked out at the black sky. Down below, the City of Lights was living up to its name, aglow with twinkling lights that were neatly lining out the wide boulevards of Paris. Jorge loved Paris and was happy to be landing there. He had completely blocked the reason for the trip from his mind, at least for a little while. Paris was a glorious city, even in the pitch dark, he thought to himself.
As the plane touched down, Jorge checked his watch: 5:30 p.m. New York time, which meant it was 22:15 French time — 10:15 p.m. After Charlie’s threats, he had been lucky enough to make a late morning flight out of New York, and thankfully he’d been able to catch a couple of hours sleep on the plane. Maybe he could check in to a hotel in the city and grab a little more sleep before he thought about how he was going to take care of this nasty assignment. At the moment, his strategy was to delay, delay, delay. Charlie had never asked him to do anything like this before, and he was still in denial about actually completing it.
He was used to being the errand boy, that much was for sure. But his jobs normally entailed much easier tasks like facilitating the transfer of money to and from off-shore accounts, carrying cash and other assets across borders, and the occasional delivery of a message. He knew their group had executed plans that involved the killing of innocent people many times before, but Jorge had never been directly involved in any of that unpleasantness. He had never had any trouble keeping the true nature of their work far from his own mind. But this was different. This was too personal, and Jorge wasn’t sure if he could, or would be able to pull it off. To make matters even worse, he completely believed that this was a fool’s errand … he had no idea where Rasul was, or how he would even find him. He wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, and Jorge wondered if there was some way he could get out of this horrible assignment.
As the plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle and taxied toward the gate, Jorge pulled out his phone and pressed the power button. After powering up and connecting with the French cell towers, he began to feel the soft vibrations of tex
t messages and emails arriving on his phone. Twelve new text messages lit up on his screen.
Scanning through the usual messages from his sister and mother, he landed on one from Charlie.
“Rasul is in Paris. Take a car to 17 Rue des Carmes when you land. Someone will meet you.”
Damn it. I’m not prepared for this. I haven’t even thought about what I’m here to do, let alone how to do it. This is crap, and I’m sick and tired of doing Charlie’s bidding. Who made him the boss anyway?’
With no luggage and the late flight, the airport had a scarce number of travelers and Jorge made it through customs in just a few minutes and was in a cab headed toward Paris within an additional ten minutes. He texted Charlie as he had been instructed and let him know he’d landed early in Paris and was headed to the address he’d been given. He received no response from Charlie which irritated him all over again. Here he was flying across the Atlantic at the drop of a hat, and Charlie couldn’t even be bothered to respond to his text. He decided then and there that this was the last errand he was doing for Charlie or anyone else involved in this vile scheme. He was tired of this disgusting business, he was tired of the despicable people he was involved with, and he was sick and tired of taking directions from people who obviously didn’t care an iota for him. He wanted out, now. He would take care of this one last errand, and then he was taking his money and getting out.
The Cornmarket Conspiracy Page 19