Operation Blue Sapphire

by David B. Gilmore

“That’s what I’m thinking. Question is what? If it was for his company, they would arrange shipping. He went over the trucks with a fine-tooth comb. He’s not taking the chance of a breakdown along the way.”

  “And now he’s getting ready to deliver whatever he bought,” said Bunnel. “Didn’t you and Henri watch the Russian deliver a small package yesterday?”

  “We did. Henri thought it could contain plastique. A small amount of that could do a lot of damage.”

  “With the trucks you saw, filled with plastique, they could blow up half of Bengal.”

  “Let’s back up for a moment,” said Emma. “If the Russian was responsible for making the bomb that blew up the cafe, and du Maurier and Chevalier wanted more explosives, wouldn’t they get it from him?”

  “So we can probably count out explosives. Plus, if they were doing some side business for themselves with company contacts, they could still arrange for shipping. And the transaction would have been handled in the lobby of the hotel, not an envelope slipped under the table,” said Bunnel.

  “Precisely. Whatever they bought, they’re not going to take a chance on anyone else shipping it. And they’ve had this planned for a while. We’ve never seen them checking on the trucks. They have to have had them since before we arrived in Calcutta.”

  “Emma, we’re thinking big things with big trucks, but what if they’re getting a lot of little things? Things like black market medicines. Morphine could fetch a fortune on the black market. And two truckloads? I can only imagine the money involved.”

  “It would be worth killing for. Preston’s cover here was as a procurement officer for the War Department.”

  “And tons of medical supplies are being unloaded on the docks every day.”

  “They may have approached him to buy from him or thought he was some sort of threat to what they had going on.”

  “And then I show up, and a bomb goes off at the time I was to meet with du Maurier,” said Bunnel.

  Emma lit one of her Lucky Strikes. “Jimmy, how are you feeling?”

  “Good. Why?”

  “When Henri gets here, I want you to stick around. They’re getting ready to move on whatever it is they’re into. As far as we know, they don’t know about me, Henri, or Vern. The only person they’re probably worried about now is Lalana. With her out of the way, they’d think it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out.”

  “They’re going to be coming for her, and soon,” said Bunnel.

  Emma nodded. “And I don’t have to ask Henri what the odds are.”

  Emma followed Zacharie Chevalier as he left the Great Eastern Hotel. She thought he would return to his office, but instead he took his time and stopped at a bakery and then at a butcher shop. People may be starving in the country, but there isn’t a shortage of food here in the city, thought Emma as she followed Chevalier to his home.

  An hour and a half later, she saw Jacques and Simone du Maurier drive up and park in front of the house. As they pulled the cord to ring the bell at the gate, Emma noticed Simone had changed out of the dress she had been wearing and into a dark blouse and slacks. At the opposite end of the street, she saw Miller slowly pull next to the curb and park. He raised a couple of fingers to the brim of his hat in acknowledgement.

  Emma waited in her car for twenty minutes. When she felt comfortable neither Jacques or Simone would be coming back out to their vehicle, she picked up her purse and a bag of sandwiches, walked to Miller’s car, and slid into the passenger seat. “Chevalier stopped and picked up some groceries,” she said, offering a sandwich to Miller. “I think they’ll be having dinner together and will be in there a while.”

  “Jacques didn’t do anything today. He’s been at his office all day. Simone arrived at his office by taxi and they came directly here.”

  Emma told Miller about the trucks, Bunnel’s thoughts about the situation, and about him following Chevalier to the Great Eastern Hotel.

  “Captain Blaine getting shot, it’s starting to make sense,” Miller said thoughtfully. “Last night we saw them slip an envelope to the big guy. Obviously, they’re buying something. You think they approached Preston, he turned them down, and they killed him for it? All to protect what they have going on? Like Jimmy says, if they’re dealing in black market medicines, they stand to make a killing.”

  “Whatever it is, I think it’ll be coming soon,” Emma said. “They’re probably in there making plans right now.”

  Emma and Miller ate and drank some coffee. The sun would be setting soon and it wouldn’t be long before it grew dark.

  “Vern, why don’t I follow the du Mauriers if they leave alone,” offered Emma. “If they all leave together, then they’re probably going to a night club or picture show and we’ll both follow them.”

  “I hope it isn’t a picture show. Be real easy for one or two of them to slip out of a dark theater,” Miller said by way of agreement with her plan.

  Under the dim light of the street lamp on the corner, Emma watched as the gate to the Chevalier’s property opened. Simone and Jacques du Maurier came out first, followed by the Chevaliers. All four stood by Jacques’s car, talking. From where Emma was sitting, the conversation looked intense. She had the car window rolled down but was too far away to be able to hear what they were discussing.

  After a few minutes, Jacques and Simone got into their car and began driving down the street. Emma waited as the Chevaliers stood at the gate and watched until the car had gone to the corner and turned. She slapped the steering wheel in frustration. She didn’t want to lose the du Mauriers in traffic, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be observed in pursuit by the Chevaliers. Finally, they stepped back into the yard and closed the gate.

  Emma immediately started the engine. It roared to life as she put the car in gear and pulled into the street, wasting no time trying to pick up the du Mauriers’ trail. She drove a couple of blocks and was dismayed when she didn’t see their car. Following them could be difficult in the daytime, but in the dark, it was even more difficult. She increased her speed and kept scanning the traffic in front of her. She was relieved when she finally spotted them going through an intersection. So she wouldn’t look conspicuous, she eased off the accelerator and joined the normal flow of Saturday night traffic. She maintained a safe enough distance and was able to make the necessary turns to keep following them but, at the same time, not be observed.

  After about fifteen minutes of driving, it became obvious to Emma that they were heading toward the docks. They’re going after Lalana, she thought as she eased the car forward, slightly closing the gap between them.

  Up ahead she could see the brake lights of cars and traffic came to a stop. Crossing the street was a wedding procession. Emma used it to her advantage and made an immediate left hand turn. She was familiar with the area and assumed the du Mauriers wouldn’t be. She accelerated down a side street and attempted to bypass the procession.

  Suddenly, a block away from where she had turned, directly in front of her she saw the bright red fabric of a woman’s sari in the headlights. Emma cranked the steering wheel hard to the right, moving the car into the oncoming lane of traffic. As she did so, the interior of the car turned to daylight in the headlights of a fast approaching vehicle. Emma was able to avoid the woman with just inches to spare. Swerving left back into her lane, she wasn’t sure if she would be quick enough and braced for the crash she thought was imminent. Her action was met with the sound of a blaring car horn. With her hands firmly locked on the steering wheel, she glanced up in the mirror and saw the car pass and had no idea how the accident had been avoided. She also noticed the woman was back on the sidewalk. Taking a deep breath, Emma focused on the street ahead. She desperately wanted to get to Padma’s apartment before the du Mauriers. Turning to go south toward her destination, she pushed the accelerator to the floor.

  Emma drove by Padma’s apartment and saw Bunnel’s car parked in the same spot it had been earlier in the day. She made a U-turn and pul
led in behind him. LaCroix got out of the car and anxiously came up to her as she was getting out of the car. “We’re glad to see you! The police were here earlier.”

  “When?”

  “About four o’clock. Jimmy and I watched them go into the apartment building. It created quite a stir with the locals.”

  “Apparently, a visit from the police isn’t a good thing,” added Bunnel.

  “Are they gone now?” asked Emma.

  “They stayed about forty-five minutes and then left,” answered LaCroix.

  “They go to Padma’s?” asked Emma.

  “We assume so. We didn’t want to get involved and blow our cover. But where else would they be going? The neighborhood isn’t like where we live, but it isn’t bad. This is the first time we’ve ever noticed the police here. So it figures they must be talking to Lalana again,” said LaCroix.

  “Look, we’ll think about all that later,” Emma told them. “I just left the Chevaliers’ house and followed the du Mauriers. They’re on their way here now. We just have a few minutes, tops, to get ready.”

  “They’re coming after Lalana!” exclaimed LaCroix.

  “Let’s get to the apartment building. If they make a move for her, we take ‘em,” said Emma. Then looking at Bunnel, she added, “Alive, Jimmy! Remember, we need to fulfill our mission.”

  Emma, Bunnel, and LaCroix walked to the entrance to the apartment building. “Jimmy, find the light switch and turn off the light,” Emma ordered.

  Bunnel did so and the entryway went black. Just a small amount of light came in from the street through the open doorway. The three of them backed into the shadows and waited.

  A few minutes later they could hear a car slowly drive up the street. Just before reaching the doorway, it stopped. They could hear the engine idling, but no doors opened or closed. A few seconds later, the car slowly crept up the street.

  Emma took out a small mirror from her purse and held it just outside the doorway. “They’re turning around,” she said. As the car headed back toward them, she placed the mirror back in her purse, not wanting it to catch the reflection of the car’s headlights.

  The three of them heard the car come back up the street and begin to parallel park. Emma nodded in approval to LaCroix as he took his .45 out of its holster. Just then, at the top of the stairs, they heard a door open and slam closed. Looking up, Bunnel saw an old woman about to descend the stairs.

  “Police! Go back in your apartment and lock the door. Now!” commanded Bunnel in a low but firm voice. Seconds later they could hear the door close again.

  The next thing heard was the engine of the car outside turn off, followed by two car doors closing. Emma’s heart began to pound in her chest as she heard Jacques’s leather-soled shoes approaching.

  Jacques cautiously entered the doorway, followed closely by Simone. He paused briefly as though he were looking for the light switch. Getting adjusted to the darkness, he started for the staircase. Just as he was about to ascend the steps, Bunnel came out of the shadows and stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

  Startled, Jacques said, “You! It can’t be you, you’re supposed to be dead!”

  Simone wanted to tell Jacques to keep his mouth closed, but before either of them could say a word, Bunnel connected with a right cross to Jacques’ jaw. The punch sent du Maurier’s head forcefully against the side of the wall.

  “What’s going on here!” exclaimed Simone as she made a lunge for Bunnel.

  Emma wasted no time and landed a punch of her own just under Simone’s solar plexus. As Simone gasped for air and tried to catch her breath, Emma turned her around and instantly had her handcuffed. Bunnel had done the same to Jacques. Before the couple knew what had happened, all of them were in the street and at the du Mauriers’ car.

  “Henri, go get my car,” said Emma.

  Bunnel emptied the contents of Jacques’ pockets onto the hood of the car. Emma had taken Simone’s purse and searched her for weapons. As she finished, LaCroix pulled up and held the back door of their car open.

  “All right, you two, in you go. Now!” commanded Emma as she shoved Simone into the back of the car. “Watch them, Henri,” she ordered as she went back to the du Mauriers’ car and collected their things off the hood. Taking the keys to the car, she handed them to LaCroix. “Take their car a few blocks from here and park it. If you can, find a lot and bury it with some others … off the street.”

  “I know just the place.”

  “Good. Then I want you to stay here and keep a vigil over Padma and Lalana. I don’t want them unprotected tonight. Until we get to the bottom of this, we don’t know who else is involved.”

  “You think more could be coming?”

  “I’m not sure, but anything could happen. I know it’s been a long day, but don’t fall asleep.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” LaCroix assured her.

  “I know, but I had to say it. Good luck, Henri.”

  “I know you did, and good luck to you, Emma.”

  “Keep your guard up.” Emma turned to Bunnel, who was standing next to her, “Jimmy, you drive.”

  “What is this all about?” asked Jacques as Bunnel drove toward home.

  Emma ignored his question and looked through Jacques’ belongings and Simone’s purse. She opened the action of the revolver that had been taken from Jacques and emptied the cartridges into her purse. She then looked at the pistol she found in Simone’s purse. Taking a flashlight out of the glove box, she shined the light first on the pistol, then on the revolver. Holding up the revolver by the grip, she asked Bunnel, “Wasn’t Blaine Phillips killed with a thirty-two caliber?”

  “I believe he was,” agreed Bunnel.

  “And didn’t he carry a three-eighty Colt Pocket Hammerless?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Well, we just happen to have a thirty-two, courtesy of Monsieur du Maurier, and a three-eighty that Miss Simone just happened to be carrying. What are the odds of that?” asked Emma.

  “Maybe we should ask them.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. We will.”

  At the house Emma and Bunnel quickly separated Jacques and Simone. Bunnel led Jacques into the living room and Simone was seated at the kitchen table. Emma wasted no time getting to the point.

  “Jimmy, go in and talk with Jacques. Simone and I are going to have a little chat.”

  As Bunnel left the room, Emma sat down and lit a cigarette. Simone simply glared at her. Emma opened her cigarette case and offered one to Simone.

  “It is hard to smoke with my hands behind my back.”

  “I guess it is. Maybe we can do something about that.”

  Emma left her cigarette burning in the ashtray and unlocked the cuff on Simone’s left hand. Quickly, she locked the open handcuff to the leg of the table. Simone gladly accepted the cigarette.

  “Now, why did you shoot Blaine Phillips?” asked Emma.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” answered Simone with a defiant toss of her head.

  Emma asked her several other questions about Phillips and the bombing at the café. Simone either remained silent or stated that she didn’t know anything. It soon became clear to Emma that she was going to have to change tactics. Getting up from the table, she summoned Bunnel, and they both stepped out into the yard. “Has he said anything to you?” asked Emma.

  “Nothing. Just silence. What about her?”

  “Same. We have them red-handed and they know it. But they’re not going to tell us anything without some encouragement.”

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Bunnel.

  “When we go back in, I want you to bring Simone out to the garage. No matter what I say when we go back in, don’t lay a hand on her. But I want Jacques to think she’s undergoing some severe torture.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that, but …”

  “But what?”

  “I think, just out of principle, at least one of them should hurt a bit. After
all, they damn near killed us with that stupid bomb they set off.”

  “I know, Jimmy, but if I’m right, it can all be avoided. If not, then that’s another option.”

  They walked back into the kitchen. Emma noticed Simone had helped herself to another Lucky Strike. Emma glanced down and noticed the red nail polish Simone was wearing. “What pretty nails you have.”

  “Thank you, I had a manicure this morning.”

  “It’s a shame you’re going to lose them.”

  “What are you talking about? Lose what?”

  “Well, so far we’ve been nice, and it hasn’t seemed to work. You’ve had an opportunity to come clean and tell me what I wanted to know, but you treated me like a lunkhead. Same is true with your husband. So, now things are going to change. In a minute, Mister Ferguson is going to take you out into the garage. In the garage are several kinds of tools. Innocent enough for their intended purpose, but in his hands you’re not going to like the application. He’s going to start on your fingernails. Enjoy them now, because you won’t have them much longer.”

  Simone looked at Emma then at Bunnel. Instantly, she knew they were serious and a flood of fear made her draw into herself. “I’m not going anywhere with him!”

  Emma unlocked the handcuff from the table leg. When she tried to cuff her free hand, Simone tried to bolt to the living room. “Jacques, you can’t let them hurt me!” she yelled.

  Emma pushed her hard back into the chair and Bunnel secured the cuff on her free hand. “Now, no more of that. Jimmy, take her outside.”

  Simone began squirming in the chair and kicking the underside of the table as Bunnel approached her. As he tried to pick her up under her arms, she tried to bite him.

  “Emma, she’s a biter. Get me a towel so I can gag her.” As Simone attempted to bite him again, he shook her. “Enough of that,” he said.

  “The towel’s probably a good idea. We don’t want her waking up half the city by screaming once you get to work on her,” Emma said as she tossed Bunnel a dish towel.

  “Jacques! Help me!”