“There is probably no need to go to the other three studios,” the commissaire said.
“Why not?” Nancy asked.
“We found twenty five thousand euros at each of the other three places. You can work out yourselves what that means.”
“It means everybody sold the Englishman a copy and the murderers found the originals, most likely,” Jean muttered. “Merde. Merde. Merde.” Turning to Nancy he said, “Please excuse my English.”
“You are excused,” Nancy replied, “besides, I agree. Shit. Shit. Shit. And please excuse my French.”
“Let’s go to the other three places,” Jean continued. “Just to be on the safe side, let me have a look around.”
The commissaire agreed and they spent the next four hours in the apartments and studios of the three murdered painters. In each of the three studios Jean found the material his friends had brought back from Italy, but the sheets he was looking for were gone.
Before they separated Tony couldn’t help wondering, “I just don’t get it. They found what they were after. So why did they try to kill Jean two weeks afterwards? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I had the same thought, exactly the same thought,” the commissaire replied.
PART 3
40
Mike Thompson, Christina Hoffman, Tony Jackson and Nancy Baliva were sitting at a round table that was located on the footpath outside a bistro near the Panthéon. It was ten am. Mike had phoned Tony the previous evening and arranged the meeting. A waitress arrived and took their orders. Nancy and Christina ordered each a small bowl of fruit salad, Tony and Mike requested each a cup of coffee long black and a piece of pastry filled with custard and chocolate at both ends.
“Seems we have similar tastes,” Tony said, pointing to the dishes on the table.
“What are you planning on having afterwards?” Mike asked.
“I probably would prefer a bourbon, but since it is still early in the day I may settle for a second cup of coffee and another piece or two of pastry,” Tony replied.
“You could be twins,” Christina joked.
“And what about this afternoon,” Mike enquired.
“Gym,” Tony answered without hesitation. “Definitely an hour and a half in the gym; half an hour on the cross trainer and one hour with weights.”
Nancy shook her head and said, “They must be twins.”
“You also a gym fanatic?” Tony asked.
“I have to,” Mike replied. “Or let me put it this way, there are two options. Options one is called cake, chocolate and gym. Option two is called no cake, no chocolate and no gym.”
“Yeah! The girls are right, we must be twins.”
They clicked; all four of them clicked as if they had known each other and had been friends for years. “Thanks for your warning. You saved my life,” were the first sentences Mike spoke when he shook Tony’s hand. “Don’t mention it,” Tony replied. “My part was a small one. Your reaction saved your life. If you hadn’t moved as fast you did, you would have joined the fat man. By the way, did you or the police catch the two guys.”
“They are dead. But something else: do you know that I quit my job with the NYPD?”
“Yes, I read about it in the New York Times last night, just before you called me.”
“Someone phoned my boss and told him a few things about my past,” Mike added.
“I don’t need to know this,” Tony interrupted him. “Your past is your past, my past is my past. If it’s all right with you, we can just leave it at that.”
“That’s okay with me.”
Tony and Mike each ordered their second cup of coffee and another pastry. They continued with the same type of custard filled pastry with chocolate at both ends. “If you were happy with what you had, have the same again,” Tony said when he placed his order after the waitress had asked him if he would like the same pastry again or a different one.
“Good thinking,” Mike agreed and followed Tony’s lead.
Changing the topic, Mike asked, “Do you know if the French police have suspects for the killing of the three painters?”
“No. They are in the dark. They can’t even be certain about the motives for the killings and the attempted killing.”
“Can you talk about it or have they asked you to keep quiet about what you know? After all, you had a bit of involvement; saving the guys life with the help of a flying saucer, that’s not everyday stuff.”
“I can talk,” Tony replied. “Whatever is known you can probably find out on TV tonight and read about it in the papers tomorrow morning.” He told Mike what he knew about the four sheets with drawings, about the recipe for eternal life and about the Englishman who paid a total of one hundred thousand euros for four copies.
“So,” Mike interrupted Tony, “if I understand this correctly, the bad guys got what they wanted, the originals, but then a bit later they made another attempt to kill the fourth painter, the one who had managed to escape the first time?”
“That’s right. And that’s the really strange bit.”
“Hmm.”
Tony looked at Mike and waited a few seconds before he asked, “What’s the meaning of hmm?”
“The meaning of hmm? Who said hmm?”
“You did.”
“Ah, did I? It means that I am aware of a similar case.”
“Can you talk about it?”
“I certainly can. – The organization that killed the publisher in New York and searched his factory and apartment continued to hunt me. You would think with the killing of the publisher and with undisturbed access to his factory and apartment they had achieved their objectives. They …”
“Sorry to interrupt. I don’t want to be rude, but what was the name of the publisher?”
“Edward Rose,” Mike replied.
“Ah, okay.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Well, for a moment I had this crazy idea that the fat publisher in New York and the fat Englishman who paid a little fortune for four photocopies could be the same man.”
“I see. What’s the name of the fat Englishman?”
“John Hector.”
“Same man Tony! Exactly the same man. When he contacted me on the phone he introduced himself as John Hector. His real name is Edward Rose.”
Christina and Nancy who were engaged in their own conversation for a while had started to pay attention to Tony and Mike’s discussion when they realized that the two men were talking about recent events. Christina asked, “Did you two just say the Englishman who bought the copies and the publisher who was killed in New York were the same man?”
“Yes,” Mike confirmed. “One and the same.”
“Should we tell the police?” Nancy asked.
“Probably not,” Mike replied. He abruptly continued with something entirely different by saying, “Listen, don’t change your behaviour. Don’t look around. Just pretend that we continue talking about whatever we have been talking. Okay?”
“Okay,” Nancy and Christina answered both at the same time.
“There is a red Renault on the other side of the street. Don’t look. About thirty yards to my right. There are two men in the car and they have been watching us since shortly after we ordered our second coffee. I can only see a mirror image of them when I look at the window to me left. Tony, you probably can glance at them without moving your head.”
“I have been watching them for the past thirty minutes,” Tony replied.
“Good. Very good. Do you know them?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you have a pistol on you?”
“What on earth makes you think I have a pistol on me? I am only an American tourist in Paris.”
“The same as I. I am only an American tourist in Paris, but this doesn’t mean that I can’t have a pistol on me.”
“I know you have one.”
“You could see it?”
“Of course I could, just as you probably could see that
I have one. There was no need to embarrass me with your question.”
“Sorry, no offence intended.”
Mike and Tony smiled. Nancy raised her hand to indicate to a waitress nearby that she would like to order something. Very cool, Mike thought. These two are cool. I am glad I am no longer a policeman, otherwise I couldn’t prevent myself from asking all sorts of questions.
“Why shouldn’t we tell the police that the Englishman and publisher are the same?” Nancy asked.
“Well, we could do it anonymously, but not officially. It would blow our cover. I suspect Tony is not keen on getting in contact with the police in New York; for whatever reason. And neither am I.”
“For whatever reason,” Tony added quickly.
“Exactly. We all have our reasons. Maybe we are going to share our reasons one day, but for the time being they are just that: our reasons.”
“I am glad to hear you say that,” Nancy responded.
“Even anonymously, I think, we should not let them know,” Tony added. At the same time he kept glancing out of the corner of his eye towards the red car. “The French detective who is dealing with this case, Daniel Brice, is a pretty sharp guy. Whether we inform him or the police in NY anonymously about what we know, the two jurisdictions would exchange their information and Monsieur Brice would easily work out that I am the link. He would find out that I saw the publisher in the bar in NY and he knows that I am familiar with the Englishman’s activities in Paris. It is as simple as one plus one equals two.”
“On the other hand, this is very important information,” Christina contemplated.
“The red Renault is moving,” Tony whispered. He suddenly no longer looked relaxed; his entire body looked like a spring under high tension. “The car is moving in our direction on the other side of the street.”
Mike quickly stood up, turned around, pulled his pistol and said, “Tony, hurry up, do exactly what I do.”
Tony got up and stepped beside Mike. Both men had a pistol in their right hand and looked towards the approaching red car. Their pistols pointed at the two people inside the car. By now the car was less than ten yards away from the two men. The man in the backseat of the car also had a pistol. A massive pistol; probably a machine gun. The weapon was visible for a second at the most. The next moment the man hit the driver’s shoulder and yelled something. Another moment passed and the red car jumped into action. The engine screamed, the tyres spun and left black streaks and smoke behind. The car accelerated and was gone a few seconds later.
Tony turned towards Mike and said, “You had a hell of a good gut feeling.”
A few people stopped and stared at Mike and Tony. The two men returned their pistols to the inside pocket of their jackets. Mike produced a fake police ID and showed it to the people and said in accent-free French, “D'affaires de la police. Juste un exercice d'entraînement. J'espère que nous n'avons pas vous effrayer.” (Police business. Just a training exercise. I hope we didn't scare you.)
41
“Who do you think they were after?” Tony asked.
Christina replied, “They were after you, I’d say.”
“What makes you think they were after me? They could be after Mike.”
“I suspect they were after you for the same reason they were after Mike in New York.”
“And what reason is that?”
“That’s something I don’t know. There are parallels; that’s all I know. In New York Mike met a man who had been in the possession of the recipe for eternal life. We know that now, because we know that the publisher purchased copies of the recipe. Mike met the publisher and from then on someone tried to kill him. Here in France, you were in contact with someone who had been in possession of the recipe for eternal life, although it may only have been a quarter of the recipe. And now someone is trying to kill you. It kind of makes sense.”
“It also makes no sense at all.”
“You’re right, it also makes no sense at all.”
“I can’t imagine they knew that Christina and I are in Paris,” Mike continued, “which means they were most likely after you. Maybe all they did was keep an eye on you from the very moment they heard about your interest in this fourth painter. You told me you made sure half of Paris knew you were looking for him. What is his name?”
“Jean Simon.”
“Yes, Jean. And when Jean and you two had breakfast, they tried to kill him, which you were able to prevent.”
“And?”
“And … and now they have included you on their list of people who have to be killed.”
“That makes even less sense.”
“I know,” Mike agreed. “By the way, what happened to this Jean? Did he move back to his apartment or is he still in hiding?”
“Still in hiding. He wanted to move back but Commissaire Brice didn’t agree. That would make it too easy for them to find him, he argued, which of course is true. Even Jean had to agree with this.”
41
It was nine pm. Mike, Steven and Sarah looked concerned. Mike’s mother Natalie and Vanessa had left the hotel at eleven am and were meant to be back by six pm at the latest. “If we can’t make it by six,” Vanessa had told Sarah, “I will call you.” They went to visit a very old friend of Natalie. Very old in every sense of these two words. Agnola Babili, the woman they had arranged to visit, was ninety three years old – which counts as very old in most people’s opinion – and she had been Natalie’s friend since Natalie’s childhood over sixty years ago, which counts as a very old friendship.
“Did you call signora Babili’s home?” Mike asked.
“Several times,” Steven replied. “Initially nobody answered and I left messages. The last time I called was five minutes ago and the phone was dead. What really worries me is that Vanessa doesn’t answer her cell phone. This is something that’s never happened before.”
“Try once more and if you still can’t get hold of anybody, we will go and visit the place.”
Two minutes later Steven replied, “Signora Babili’s phone is still dead and no answer from Vanessa.”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. – We’ll take two cars. Sarah you drive one car and Steven you sit in the backseat and make sure you have all your gear ready.”
“Including explosives?”
“Yes. Everything.”
“I picked it up this morning from our contact in Paris. It’s all there, I’m ready to go.”
“Good. Wear a bullet proof vest; Sarah, you, too, wear a bullet proof vest and take your pistol along. I’ll take the second car and will also wear a bullet proof vest. I’ll have my gun and two mini grenades.”
“How do you want us to go about it once we’re there?”
“It should take us about one hour to get there. You drive behind me. When we are within sight of the house, you stop the car approximately thirty yards from the house at a spot where you can keep an eye on the entrance. I’ll approach the house from the other side. I’ll park somewhere, walk to the house and enter. Whether I enter from the front or back I’ll decide once I’m there.”
“What if something unexpected happens?”
“Okay. If I enter the house and don’t return, you do nothing and keep watching until three am. If by then you still haven’t heard from me, you enter the house with all your gear and make your own decisions, depending on whatever situation you encounter. If something unexpected happens prior to three am, the same applies. Make your own decisions. And one more thing; you two have four eyes, always keep two eyes on what happens behind you.”
The street was well lit and Sarah and Steven could see Mike walking towards the house on the same side of the street as the house was located. The house was an impressive building with a ground floor, first floor, a balcony towards the front and several pillars that were typical for the way many wealthy Italian migrants built their houses decades ago in America, some still do it today. The house looked dark; there was no light to be seen at any of the
windows. The house was surrounded by an ornamented metal fence with a gate; ten yards to the side of the gate there was a driveway which led to a double garage. An automatic gate had to be opened to enter the driveway. It was a sliding gate that could be operated with a remote control from within a car.
The fence was three feed high, with low shrubs on the other side. Mike half stepped, half jumped over the fence. His movements were fluid and didn’t indicate any hesitation. He walked towards the house; utilising various wall features he climbed onto the balcony. He moved quickly and silently and the very moment he had disappeared over the balcony’s masonry balustrade, it seemed he had never been there.
A bit less than five hours later, at three am as told by Mike, Steven and Sarah left their car and walked straight towards the house. Steven carried a backpack with most of his gear. Some of his gear he carried in his pockets. In his right hand he had a pistol with a silencer. He opened the gate for pedestrians and walked straight towards the main entrance. Sarah walked behind him. She, too, had a pistol with a silencer in her right hand. They didn’t make any effort to be overly quiet or otherwise conceal their presence.
Underneath the balcony in front of the main entrance they separated. Steven moved to the back of the house; he moved quickly and made no sound. Sarah stayed underneath the balcony. A few seconds later Sarah could hear noise coming from the rear of the house. It sounded like someone was shouldering a door, which was exactly what Steven was doing. He broke open the back entrance door to the laundry with one controlled step. For Sarah this was the sign to move. Following more or less in Mike’s footsteps she climbed up the wall and a few seconds later disappeared behind the balcony’s masonry balustrade.
An Almighty Conspiracy – A novel, a thriller, four people doing the unexpected Page 16