They called over their mike that Calderón was headed to the trains and they could not pursue.
Wilkins switched wavelengths and told the waiting police. The two police cars set off in opposite directions, each heading for the next station.
The SFOs continued their search of Camden station.
It took the police 10 minutes before they succeeded in stopping all trains on the Swiss Cottage line. They then combed the three stations to the east and to the west of Camden station.
All to no avail. Calderón had slipped through their fingers.
*********
Angus and Keane could simply not believe it when they heard the news. What had gone wrong?
Before long it became apparent to everyone that the appointment time must have been 9:30 and not 10:30. Calderón would not have brought his merchandise with him, if he was only there to check out the place. Critical gazes turned to Frederiksen. Under pressure he had to concede, that he did occasionally mix up the time, as there was 1 hour’s difference between the English expression “Half past ten” and the Danish literal equivalent.
Angus and Keane were fully aware that Calderón now knew the game was up, and his cover had been blown. The usual directives were immediately issued to all ports and airports. Interpol were alerted.
Angus tore up the notes he had prepared for the afternoon conference. What on earth would he tell them now?
Chapter 17
Tuesday, 22nd September, afternoon
Angus stepped into Keane’s office after the abysmal press conference. He knew he would find him there, even though there was no reason for him to be there. Keane looked awful; pale, unshaven, tousled hair, bloodshot, glazed eyes.
“Look, Morgan, you did everything in your power, and it was a fine piece of detective work that got us so close to catching him.”
Keane did not reply. Eventually he said “Do you know he brushed past me at Symond’s restaurant.”
“No, I didn’t” sympathized Angus. He paused. “You know there is nothing more you can do here, and remember you do have a loving wife waiting for you at home!”
Keane looked up at Angus and tried to smile. He hated so much to have let down such a great friend and boss. He hated the culprits winning and the victims losing. What use was he if he couldn’t right these wrongs? But he knew Angus was right; he really ought to get home.
“I suppose Interpol will take over now?”
“That’s right. And I am ordering you to take the rest of the week off. I’ve recalled Hayes by the way, so there’s nothing here you need to think about. I want you back here on Monday, fully refreshed. Alright?”
“Hayes did an excellent job. They all did really, but he deserves to be told, and he’ll appreciate it if it comes from you.”
“I’ll do that. Do you need a lift home?”
“No. I’ll leave the top off. That’ll keep me awake”, a faint smile finally made its way to Keane’s lips.
*********
Jenny was so relieved to have him back home, but what a mess he was in, physically and emotionally. He was really in the dumps. There was only one cure.
“First job: long bath. When you’re done, I’ll have some pizza ready for you – I take it you don’t want to go to a restaurant?” He smiled feebly. “You will have to select your own wine to go with it though.” She continued to try and pick up his spirits. “After that it’s a massage and an early night for you, because tomorrow we are driving to Paris to see Elaine.”
“But . . .”
“No buts! Remember that was the court’s decision the last time you tried to weasel your way out! And besides, I’ve already told Elaine we’re coming” (she fibbed. She wanted it to be a surprise for Elaine). I’ll take care of the packing; I don’t want to hear another word about it!”
Keane gave in. He had no strength to argue, and he knew he owed her this (at the very least). She ran off to start his bath.
Of course she was absolutely right. He may well have wanted to ponder endlessly in search of a way to catch Calderón, but at the moment any efforts would be pathetic and worthless. He would have to do exactly as the doctor prescribed.
The following morning he went for a jog and realized how long it had been since he last had exercised his body. But he was feeling much better now. Jenny’s spoiling him the night before was just what he had needed, and today and the following days, it was her turn to be spoilt.
The weather was still good, the crossing to Dieppe was mild, and it was all like a wonderful relaxing trip. Until they passed through the hamlet of ‘Vascœuil’.
They had turned off the motorway at Rouen and were travelling nonchalantly along a country road, partly to enjoy the scenery, but partly to play a game which was virtually a family tradition. When they had gone on holiday with the children years ago, they had had to find a way to keep the kids’ active minds occupied. So every time they passed a sign with a town’s name on it, the challenge was to find a new word consisting of as many of the town’s letters as possible. The one with the longest word was the winner. Unfortunately it often led to quibbles, and that was also the case with ‘Vascœuil’, where they were only allowed to make French words.
“Valise” suggested Jenny.
“You can’t split the ’œ’” countered Keane.
“When did you make up that rule? ‘Valise’ is a perfectly good French word.” She paused and waited for one of his usual flippant responses.
“Morgan? You’re not sulking, are you?”
But her husband still did not answer. He had been hit by lightning – mentally. An image shone before his eyes, as if lit by a thousand watts: the suitcases in the corner of Elaine’s room, the holdall in between them; he had seen that holdall before on the airport video of Russell. But . . . How could Russell’s holdall end up in Elaine’s room??
“Morgan? What is it?” Jenny was getting worried by his sudden silence.
Could he possibly tell her what he feared?
“It’s . . . I just remembered. Damn it! (he feigned) There’s a demonstration in Paris today. They’re closing off the centre at 3 o’clock. We’re going to have to get back on the motorway. I’m sorry, dear, I’m going to have to put my foot down.” The Morgan had deceptively powerful acceleration, and they were both thrown back into their seats, as he blasted down the country lane.
“Alright, alright, let’s just get there in one piece!”
Keane’s mind raced as fast as the car. Was he really sure? Was the “case” getting to him? The only person who could possibly have Russell’s holdall was Marie Passant – or Calderón! No. No. It made no sense. It must be another holdall. Keane could not find any rational way of explaining how Russell’s holdall could end up there; nevertheless he drove at full speed all the way to the outskirts of Paris.
“Well, we made it in time.” said Jenny
“What?”
“The demonstration hasn’t started yet.”
“No, but I think the route goes right by Elaine’s flat, and they block off the roads in good time, so I’m going to press on. OK?”
Jenny was surprised that Morgan was still so uptight. He really did need this holiday.
“OK!”
Ten minutes later Keane pulled up alongside a parked car right outside Elaine’s flat, jumped out and shouted to Jenny to park the car and wait for him to come back and help with the luggage.
“But . . . but! Oh, that man is the limit!”
Keane raced up the stairs with every ounce of energy he had. The door to Elaine’s flat was open. “Elaine” he shouted, and ran in through the door, and turned to see Elaine and an unknown woman being held at gunpoint . . . by Calderón! Keane was shell-shocked.
“Buenos dias, Detective Superman Keane” he said calmly. “Come over here and take a seat” He beckoned Keane over to the other side of the room, and then went over to close the door to the flat, still holding the gun on his captives. Keane saw Elaine was as white as a sheet. The woman who was si
tting on the chair by the table fit Passant’s description. Keane sat on the thick arm of the sofa.
“Now isn’t this perfect. Here I am, having found my treacherous little ex-cohort, happy to get the money I would have got, if you had not destroyed my business, and just wondering how not to implicate myself in her tragic death. And then you step into my life again.
Now I can remove the one person still alive who can implicate me . . .” he looked at Passant
“Is Mickey dead?” asked Passant
Calderón just smiled and continued “. . . and the one person who almost caught me (twice by the way)”, he smiled again, “And this time, I don’t think Jones can save you.” His smiled disappeared.
“I can see the headline”, he stepped menacingly closer towards Keane.
“Desperate woman slaughters detective and his innocent daughter, then commits suicide”
Keane had to delay him somehow, “What? No poisonous injections this time??”
“Oh you have been clever . . .“ began Calderón, but he did not finish the sentence, because at that moment Jenny barged through the door, arms laden with gifts, looking down to avoid the doorstep and complaining: “A real gentleman parks his own car!”
A distracted Calderón continued to point his gun at Keane, but swivelled his head to see who was coming in. Passant instantly grabbed the silver platter from the table and threw it like a Frisbee, hitting Calderón’s hand and knocking the gun to the floor towards Jenny. Keane threw himself at the bigger man and knocked him to the floor. Jenny dropped everything and grabbed the gun, but Calderón had now got Keane in a head lock and was holding a home-made air-gun to his ear.
“No heroics, Mrs. Keane!”
Jenny was completely freaked out and shaking like a leaf. She screamed, “If anyone is going to kill my husband for risking my family’s life and limb, it’s me, you bastard!!”, and Jenny fired the gun, hitting Calderón in the knee.
Calderón squealed in agony and clutched his knee. Keane rolled free and grabbed the gun from Jenny, while the big man whimpered on the floor.
Passant made a lunge and scooped up the airgun lying next to Calderón. She pointed it at him.
“Did you kill, Mickey, you swine!?” Calderón did not respond
“Put that weapon down!” commanded Keane. The petite French woman glared at Keane for a moment before slowly lowering the airgun.
“Calderón! Lie face down with your hands behind your head right now, or God help me I’ll put another bullet in you!! Elaine. Get over here behind me and call the police.”
Calderón did as Keane instructed, and Keane held him at gunpoint. A silence gripped everyone like the shock of an electric current. Elaine and Jenny began to shake and then they both burst into tears. They immediately tried to comfort each other. Keane looked on helplessly and then turned to the French woman: “Mademoiselle Passant, or whoever you are, hand over that gun to me, and call the police immediately!”
She did so, and when the police finally arrived, they handcuffed Calderón and took his gun and the airgun from Keane. Keane identified himself and explained what had happened, and that Calderón was responsible for the murder of Madame Chaboulet. He asked them to search Calderón on the spot, and they found an incriminating set of a syringe and poison. The police arrested Calderón (who was begging to be taken to a hospital) and took him away.
When the police asked Marie Passant for her name, she began “Je m’appelle Pascale Leclerc . . .” and she glanced at Keane, who interrupted her
“Mademoiselle Leclerc has come forward to assist us with our enquiries. She will be returning to London with me.”
After everyone’s statement had been taken, they were asked if they felt they needed any psychological help.
“No. All we need now is to talk quietly among ourselves about what just happened” answered Keane. “Be very careful of Calderón. Don’t underestimate him, and don’t let him out of your sight.”
With that the police left and Keane gave Jenny and Elaine a big, long hug. Then Jenny held Elaine at arm’s length saying, “Young lady, you have a lot of explaining to do!”
“I know, I should have told you. You see, Pascale turned up and I couldn’t say no, and I knew you wouldn’t approve, and . . .”
“Approve!?”
“Steady, dear, let’s just find out what happened” Keane tried to calm down Jenny.
“You must not blame your daughter,” said a distraught Pascale Leclerc, “I endangered her life I know, but I thought he could not possibly find me here, and I had nowhere to go to!”
“Mademoiselle Leclerc, before you say any more, I must advise you that I am arresting you on suspicion of being an accessory to a crime of fraud. I must also caution you, that you’re not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say – from now on – will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence. I therefore advise you not to say anything without great consideration. Please listen to me very carefully.
You have shown great integrity by voluntarily coming forward to meet me here today in order to help the police, and by returning the money you recovered from Russell.” Keane held out his hand and a hesitant Leclerc passed him a package. “You have also shown great courage in assisting the police in the capture of Diego Calderón. These acts will no doubt weigh heavily in your favour at your trial.”
“Morgan!?” protested a confused Jenny.
“Sshh, mummy” countered Elaine.
“Do you understand, Mademoiselle Leclerc?”
“I do.” She smiled and almost blushed.
“In that case, could you be so kind as to make us all a nice cup of tea, while I speak to my wife and daughter?”
“Mais oui, Monsieur.” and she disappeared out of sight into the kitchen.
“Morgan, what are you doing!? That little French ‘Oddjob’ will get away!” whispered Jenny
“Mummy, stop it! Don’t you see what Daddy is doing?!”
Jenny sat back and tried to figure it out.
“Elaine, am I right in guessing that you met Pascale Leclerc in connection with your studies?“ asked Jenny
“Yes, she’s my tutor here.”
“And I believe I’m right in thinking that she brought that holdall over there into the flat, didn’t she?” added Keane.
“Yes.”
“Well, one thing I don’t understand is . . . where is Linda?” asked Jenny.
“Well, we fell out about ten days ago. She’s moved in with another friend.”
“Aha.”
The penny finally dropped for Jenny, “Oh my God, Elaine! That woman didn’t just turn up today. You have been harbouring a criminal! Morgan, she could go to jail for this!”
“Jenny, did you listen at all, when I charged her?”
At that moment, Pascale Leclerc returned with the Frisbee platter, this time putting it to a more peaceful use, bearing a teapot, four tea cups, milk, sugar, teaspoons and some digestives.
“I’m going to be quiet now.” sighed Jenny, as she reclined into the plush sofa.
“Well, not quite yet, Jenny. There is a question I have to ask you: Who were you aiming at?”
“You, of course!” smiled Jenny.
“Thank God for that!” joked Keane, and the family laughed far more than the joke had warranted, in sheer relief at the outcome, knowing that they could now return to their normal life.
As a policeman in Kensington had said, precisely eight days earlier: “It’s all over now”.
EPILOGUE
At his trial, Diego Calderón revealed that he had approached Madame Chaboulet with a plan to produce and send out fake bottles of wine onto the market under the label of her most serious competitor, in order to blackmail that competitor. He pleaded guilty to the charges and was sentenced to life imprisonment in France for the murder of Madame Chaboulet.
Calderón later admitted to British police, that he had travelled to Australia on the suspicion that Randolph was carrying out the same blackmail plan
that he had come up with. He had traced the fake wine to London and observed Russell collecting the wine. He had followed him to Pascale Leclerc’s flat to discover the location of the forger. He then killed Russell to take over the business.
Calderón denied having murdered Mickey Randolph.
At her trial, Pascale Leclerc revealed that Mickey Randolph had asked her to make the forgeries with the promise that they could live a rich life together in Australia afterwards. She had agreed because she was in love with Randolph, whom she had met while travelling in Australia as a student. Leclerc had fled from England after Calderón had asked her to do more work for him with the second shipment of wine.
To Make a Killing Page 14