Femme Fatale
A novel by
Claude Bouchard
FEMME FATALE
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2013 by Claude Bouchard
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are purely coincidental.
Published by Claude Bouchard
What readers are saying about Claude Bouchard’s books!
Vigilante
One of the best mystery/thrillers I’ve read – Tiffany Harkleroad. Tiffany’s Bookshelf
The Consultant
Not a mere sequel, but instead a well-written, powerful continuation of the characters born within his thriller, "Vigilante." - Dee Marie, Author of ‘Sons of Avalon: Merlin’s Prophecy’
Mind Games
Definitely worth a read – Michael Goodell, Author of ‘Zenith Rising’
The Homeless Killer
Bouchard's writing is splendid and accurate in every detail - Patrick Mackeown, Litarena Reviews
6 Hours 42 Minutes
Thoroughly enjoyable read, I highly recommend it – Eric Thomasma, Author of ‘SEAMS16: A New Home’
Discreet Activities
Bouchard is quite simply one of the only authors I know who can throw me for a loop with the last line of his novels. - Amber Norrgard – Author, poet and co-host of TweepNation
ASYLUM
Sheer Entertainment in the Palm of Your Hand – Stuart McCallum, Author of ‘Beyond my Control’
Learn more about Claude Bouchard’s books
Visit http://www.claudebouchardbooks.com
This book is dedicated to my fine author friend, Luke Romyn, who made me realize that sometimes one’s characters simply need to go to the bathroom.
As always, none of my books would ever be complete with saying thanks, Joanne, for your undying support and help in all I decide to do. Life just wouldn’t be as good without you.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Thursday, May 17, 2012
Chapter 2 – Friday, May 18, 2012
Chapter 3 – Monday, May 21, 2012
Chapter 4 – Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Chapter 5 – Friday, May 25, 2012
Chapter 6 – Saturday, May 26, 2012
Chapter 7 – Sunday, May 27, 2012
Chapter 8 – Monday, May 28, 2012
Chapter 9 – Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Chapter 10 – Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Chapter 11 – Thursday, May 31, 2012
Chapter 12 – Friday, June 1, 2012
Chapter 13 – Saturday, June 9, 2012
Other Books by Claude Bouchard
Chapter 1 – Thursday, May 17, 2012
It had turned out to be a very good week for Sébastien Hétu.
On Monday morning, he had sat in a courtroom at the Palais de justice de Montréal, fighting the urge to not burst out laughing as one witness after another denied having ever seen him behave violently in any fashion. Much to the crown attorney’s chagrin, her star witness, who had allegedly seen Hétu beat Hélène Soucy to death, had not even bothered showing up to testify. Word given to the defendant’s lawyer was that the witness had at least been kind enough to call the prosecutor, insisting he was mistaken with what he had initially stated seeing and was off to parts unknown. What had initially seemed like a slam-dunk win for the prosecution had turned to mush and the case had been dismissed on Tuesday morning. It was wonderful what a bit of quiet intimidation and threatening could do.
Since, his girls had been quiet, obedient and submissive which was how he liked them to be. None had attempted to skim on anything, even on a few jobs they had picked up on the side, which was something he liked as well. Two of the girls had decided to move away from the city while he was temporarily a guest of the system but had left what cash they owed him before taking their leave. He appreciated that kind of respect and would probably go easy on them if he ever ran into them somewhere; perhaps he would even leave them alone.
Raising his spirits even more, as he climbed the stairs to the small apartment he kept for business purposes on St-Laurent Boulevard downtown, was the long-legged goddess he was following up. The tight, worn, faded black jeans she wore had learned over time to perfectly hug the curves of her butt and he was looking forward to a closer, more intimate examination.
“It’s this door to the right,” he told her as she reached the first landing. “We’ll be more comfortable in here to, you know, get to know each other better and talk and stuff.”
“Uh, huh,” she mumbled, her eyes to the floor as she nodded.
Quiet because she was shy, stoned or both, he wasn’t sure but, in the end, he preferred his girls to speak as little as possible even when they were spoken to. In addition, with a face and body like hers, chatting would also be the last thing on the customers’ minds. In fact, he’d be able to charge a premium for her services, which he was certain most, if not all, clients would be agreeable to.
He had been snacking on a burger and fries at the pool hall and grill one floor below, one of his main haunts when on the job, when Lilly, one of his girls, had walked in with the five foot eight beauty. Though she had most likely been living on the street for a few weeks, as attested the dirt and grime on her clothing and skin, she remained a knockout. He hadn’t been able to determine the colour of her hair because of the light-knit tuque it was tucked into but even if she was bald, she would still be gorgeous. Her expression had been sullen and guarded but her eyes had been alert, not the look of someone messed up on heavy drugs. Though not always easy to guess, he had pegged her to be somewhere in her twenties.
“Hi, Sébast,” Lilly had said, glancing at him briefly before turning her eyes down. “This is April and she needs work. I told her maybe you could help.”
“Who asked you to do that?” Hétu had sneered, cuffing Lilly under the chin with a knuckle so that she look at him. “How do you know her? Where’d you meet her?”
“I’ve been in Montreal for the last week,” April’s monotone had interrupted, “In this area the last couple of days. I noticed Lilly working the street and asked her if she knew where I could get some work with decent protection. There’s lots of mean fuckers out there. If you can’t help me, no worries, I’ll go somewhere else.”
“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” Hétu had said with a smile as he rose from the table. “Maybe we can work something out. I’d need to interview you first, if you know what I mean. I have to see what you look like, what you’re good at, what you don’t like to do, that sort of thing. Are you ready for that?”
“Sure,” April had replied with a shrug. “Anytime you want, now or later.”
“Now would be fine,” he had said as he peeled a fifty from a roll of bills and tucked it into Lilly’s cleavage. “You can get yourself something pretty with that later. For now, go make us some money while I go upstairs and get to know April.”
Into the apartment, he closed and locked the door behind them then turned towards her, saying, “Get your clothes off - What the fuck is going on here?”
“Keep your hands away from your body where I can see them,” April a.k.a. Leslie Robb ordered, her silenced Glock 36 Slimline trained steadily on his forehead.
“If you’re planning to rip me off,” Sébastien snarled, “You’re messing with the wrong crowd, bitch. You don’t know who you’re dea
ling with here.”
“Sébastien ‘Spike’ Hétu, local pimp and scumbag with the Aces of Death,” Leslie replied. “Big whoop-dee-do shit. Now, move slowly away from the door towards the bed and keep those hands up or I’ll shoot you.”
“You’re dead,” he muttered as he moved slowly sideways in a semicircular pattern towards the bed while Leslie did likewise, moving away from it until they had effectively changed positions.
“What now?” Hétu scoffed, not unaccustomed to risky situations. “Are you going to frisk me? I really would like that. Or maybe you want to tie me up? That could be fun too.”
“No, I’m going to give you the opportunity to apologize to Hélène Soucy for killing her, face to face,” Leslie replied before double-tapping him in the forehead.
As the body tumbled back onto the bed, Leslie quickly stripped out of the dirty grey and black clothing she wore and donned faded blue jeans, a white t-shirt and denim jacket she pulled out of her packsack. Off came the tuque to be replaced by a motorcycle half-helmet equipped with a Bluetooth device which she activated after tucking in her flaming red ponytail.
“All done,” she said. “Meet you out front.”
She left the apartment, closing the door behind her, and descended one flight to the ground floor exit. As she opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, a metallic blue Harley Davidson Wide Glide pulled up to the curb. She trotted the few steps across to the curb, climbed onto the back and, in seconds, the pair was gone.
Chapter 2 – Friday, May 18, 2012
Leslie awoke as she became aware of someone entering her room and crawling onto the bed.
“Bon matin, ma chérie,” Dominique cooed, causing Leslie to smile.
“Bon matin,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “What time is it?”
“Almost six o’clock,” said Dominique, her Parisian accent drawing another smile from Leslie. “I would apologize for waking you but I will not since you are laughing at me.”
“Mais non,” Leslie protested with a giggle. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m smiling at you because you sound so worldly and sophisticated.”
“Menteuse,” Dominique laughed as she playfully swatted Leslie’s butt pressed beneath the sheet. “Your pants will catch on fire.”
“That won’t happen,” Leslie purred as she rolled over and gazed into her girlfriend’s eyes, “Because I’m not wearing any.”
“Oh, mon Dieu,” Dominique exclaimed in feigned shock before softly kissing Leslie’s nose and settling down beside her. “Did you get in late last night?”
“Around midnight. Chris and I had a problem to deal with,” said Leslie, choosing her words carefully now that the topic was work related. “Then we went for a drink to relax a bit.”
“But you fixed this problem, oui?” asked Dominique.
“Yes, we fixed the problem,” Leslie nodded. “I wish I could tell you more, sweetie, but I can’t.”
“Mais non, chérie,” reassured Dominique. “I understand your work with the government is confidential. What is important about you for me is that you are happy when we are together.”
“Merci, Dominique,” Leslie whispered as she cuddled closer and drifted off into her thoughts.
Less than two years prior, Leslie Robb had been an accountant at a main branch of the Imperial National Bank where she worked with her life-partner, Gina Tomasso. On the morning of July 15, 2010, half a dozen individuals had entered the bank to commit what was potentially the perfect bank heist. Ten minutes, in and out, was all they would have needed. Every detail had been thought of and accounted for. However, there had been one element which none had factored into their plan as none had known it would exist.
Scheduled for a meeting at the bank that morning was millionaire and new member of the board of directors, Chris Barry, a fact none of the robbers had been aware of. Another fact almost nobody was aware of was that Barry was also a seasoned operative with ‘Discreet Activities’, a clandestine division of the Ministry of Defence.
Already on the premises when the robbers had arrived, Barry had gotten busy behind the scenes, hampering their activities and turning their simple heist into a day long hostage taking before joining the other captives. Three of the thieves had been permanently eliminated but sadly, two bank employees, including Leslie’s lover, Gina, had also lost their lives before a helicopter requested by the remaining bandits had been supplied.
Putting all chances on their side, the robbers had taken three hostages with them, including Leslie Robb. Unfortunately for them, they had also selected Barry to join them for the ride. Making matters worse, the two chopper pilots had been Jonathan Addley and Cat Connor, two of Barry’s ‘Discreet Activities’ associates.
By the end of the day, the remaining robbers had been disposed of, the stolen money recouped and Leslie, who had skillfully assisted the others in taking the thieves out, had begged Addley, head of ‘Discreet Activities’, to allow her onto the team. Impressed by the sang froid she had demonstrated as well as her martial arts abilities, Jonathan had agreed, subject to acceptable background verifications and psychological testing. Since, Leslie had proven to be a worthy operative time and time again and neither she nor Addley had ever regretted their decisions.
Joining the tight-knit group and participating in the unconventional crime-fighting activities they employed to get the job done had helped Leslie through her mourning in the wake of Gina’s death. However, she had not believed she would ever become involved in another romantic relationship, intent on avoiding even the possibility of experiencing such pain and sadness again. She had held on to this belief until four months earlier when she had run into Dominique Petit at the mailboxes in the lobby of the building where she lived.
Petit, who wore her name well at an even five feet and ninety-five pounds, was a thirty-one year old biochemist who held dual citizenship as the result of a Canadian mother and French father. She worked for Bio-Planète, a French pharmaceutical firm and, having recently been promoted to the position of Director, Global R&D, now shared her time between Montreal and Paris. As fate would have it, she had purchased the condominium unit immediately below Leslie’s fifth storey apartment and had run into her on the day she had moved in. The two women had quickly become friends and had both admitted their mutual attraction and sexual orientation within weeks.
Since, they had become practically inseparable, spending each free moment together. Though they continued to maintain separate apartments, rarely did they spend a night apart unless forced to do so by work-related or other circumstances. Each had a key to the other’s place and it was not uncommon for one to go join the other, as Dominique had done that morning.
One issue which troubled Leslie was her obligation, by necessity, of keeping her position with the government a secret even though Dominique reassured her regularly that she understood confidentiality requirements. Leslie also harboured concerns about what her new lover would think if she ever learned of her profession, though she sensed this would have no impact on their relationship. In addition, she had yet to mention Dominique to Chris or Jonathan, fearing their possible disapproval of her being romantically involved because of the delicate nature of the work they did.
Until she figured out how to deal with it all, she was intent on enjoying every butterfly in her stomach and shiver of delight she felt when in Dominique’s presence. Perhaps, she hoped, all would fall into place and fix itself with time.
“Where are you, chérie?” Dominique murmured with a smile.
Leslie grinned, returning to the present. “I’m right here.”
“You seemed far away,” Dominique prodded. “Allez. Tell me.”
“I was just thinking of how my life has changed in less than two years,” admitted Leslie. “Losing Gina, big changes professionally then, last year, losing Cat and Jeff, two great friends and coworkers and finally, like a rainbow after a storm, meeting you.”
“Ahh, you are so sweet,” said Dominique, “And you a
re my pot of gold.”
“I’ll miss you when you leave for Paris on Tuesday,” Leslie sighed. “Three weeks without you will seem like forever.”
“J’ai une merveilleuse idée,” Dominique exclaimed as she sat up on the bed. “Why don’t you come to Paris with me?”
“Ohh, that would be a blast,” Leslie agreed, sitting up as well. “I can’t fly out on Tuesday but should be good to go by Thursday. I’ll just need to check at work to see if anything special might be coming up.”
“I hope not,” replied Dominique. “I would love to show you the most beautiful city in the world.”
“There shouldn’t be a problem,” Leslie reassured her. “I’ll be seeing Chris and Jon in a bit so I’ll know for sure later this morning.”
“This is so exciting,” said Dominique. “Now, you get back to sleep and I’ll go get ready for work.”
“Uh, not just yet,” Leslie purred as she raised the bed sheet. “Get in here.”
* * * *
“Hey, Pops,” said Leslie as she strolled into the meeting room at the Discreet Activities headquarters in downtown Montreal.
Chris laughed, looking up from his iPad. “Morning, smartass. You can rile me about my age all you want but you still can’t get over how great I still look, even at fifty, can you?”
“You bet I can’t,” Leslie replied, taking a seat. “If you weren’t married, I swear I’d switch camps and fall for you.”
“No flirting on the premises unless it’s with me,” said Jonathan as he joined them, closing the door behind him.
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