Martin quickly assessed the situation. He had intended to apologize for crashing into the room so unceremoniously, but considering Anne’s words, he now changed his tactics. He pulled up a chair with its back facing Lucien and straddled it, trying to give an impression of official authority.
“Now listen carefully, young man,” he said. “You are, and shall remain, a first degree murder suspect. We know who you are and where to find you. Unless you give us the name of the killer, we’ll have no choice but to inform the police of what we know. They’ll prefer to use you as a scapegoat, you’ll get the guillotine, and the killer will go scot-free.”
Panic overcame Lucien. His muscles tightened, and for a moment it looked like he was about to make a lunge for Martin. Martin tensed, but Ninette threw herself on Lucien.
“Don’t be foolish, chéri,” she whispered. “Hear him out.”
“Very sensible, Ninette,” Martin said, relaxing. “Thank you. Now, on the other hand, we have the means to catch the bastard. I can also promise you that until we do, we will not reveal anything about you to anyone. After we get the killer, we will provide you with the best legal assistance against the possible charge of withholding information from the police. Make a choice now!”
Lucien’s eyes were rolling about the room. A few drops of saliva formed at the corners of his mouth.
“He’ll kill me,” he hissed. “Don’t you understand? He’ll kill—”
“He won’t be able to touch you from his prison cell, where he’ll spend the rest of his life,” Martin said.
“He has friends,” Lucien whispered, still panicky. “They were together in the war and they do everything together.”
“And how do you know that?”
“That’s what he said. Listen, I lived with Tanya for over two months, and she introduced him to me. I know everything about him. She was a bit anxious that he might be jealous, as he has a fiery temper, so she presented me as her cousin. He knows my name, and that I am, or was, a student.”
“About his friends,” Martin prompted.
“I’m coming to that.” Lucien seemed a little calmer, now that he had begun to talk. “He would appear every now and then at Tanya’s without notifying her. He would force her to have sex with him, even against her will. He would abuse her physically—brutally in fact. And then he’d leave. Tanya wanted to get rid of him, but didn’t know how. She was really scared of him.”
“Did you actually witness this behavior?” Anne asked.
“If Tanya knew ahead of time that he was expected, she’d toss me out of her flat. But if he arrived suddenly without any warning, she’d shove me into her dressing room and lock me inside. He never went in there—‘too effeminate for his taste’ he claimed. There was just enough space there to sit comfortably in private opposite the mirror. However, I could stand on the chair and observe what went on in the room through the transom above the door.”
“And what did you see?” Anne pressed on.
“What do you think I saw?” Lucien said bitterly. “I saw him ravishing my girlfriend. I saw him brutalize her. I saw her suffering under his hands. He could stay for hours, and when Tanya finally let me out, I was so cramped, all my muscles were aching. And she was usually in pretty bad shape herself.”
“He tortured her for hours on end?” Anne was aghast.
“Not always. Actually, these attacks of violence did not take long. They usually happened around the sex act. The rest of the time he was rather civil as long as she ‘behaved.’ Which meant doing everything he demanded of her. And they did have some lengthy conversations during his periods of calm.”
“Which is when you learned about his friends,” Martin said.
“Yes. He used to brag about his heroics during the war in Iraq. He even gave her a golden oriental medallion, saying it brought good luck.”
“So why did he kill her?” Martin asked.
“That night he showed up drunk. Unannounced. I was in my regular hiding place. He bragged about removing jewelry and other ‘mementos’ from dead Iraqi soldiers. For his ‘collection,’ he said. Tanya lost control, screamed at him that he was a beast, and said she’d inform the police. He went berserk, grabbed my razor from the dresser, and slaughtered her like a chicken. He then yanked the medallion off her neck and put it in his pocket.”
“And why do you think he knows you witnessed this?”
“Because he found me there,” Lucien raised his voice. “How else? I was so overcome by what I had just seen that I fell off the chair. I was about to vomit my guts out. He heard the noise I made, and rammed the dressing room door so hard that it broke, and he hit his head on the mirror, smashing it. For a few seconds he was dazed, and that saved my life. I managed to run out of the dressing room and made a rush out of the flat. He followed me to the door screaming ‘I know who you are. I’ll get you. You’re dead!’ only he used much more colorful language. He could have caught up with me, but he was so covered in blood that he probably did not want to be seen in the corridor.” Lucien took a deep breath. “That scene will haunt me for the rest of my life. His face—”
“No. His name. What is his name?” Martin asked very intensely.
Lucien hesitated.
“I’m dead anyway,” he whispered hoarsely. “Bernard Webb. Didn’t I mention he was an Englishman? His name is Bernard Webb.” He stood up, shook his fists at the ceiling and screamed: “Come and get me, Bernard.”
Anne looked at Martin, horrified. Martin clamped his lips shut, indicating to her not to say anything. Ninette was having a hard time calming down Lucien.
“Feeling all right now, Lucien?” Martin asked softly. “I realize what a strain this must be on your nerves. You have my solemn word that none of us—and I know I speak for Ninette, too—will breathe a word about anything you said here.” Ninette nodded silently.
“Now let’s finish this nasty business as quickly as possible,” Martin continued. “Do you know whereabouts in England this Bernard Webb lives?”
“I know he lives in London,” Lucien said dully.
“Anything more specific? Where in London?”
Lucien shook his head.
“What does he do? Where does he work? Think, Lucien. We need to pinpoint this character.”
“I think he has something to do with sports,” Lucien said.
“What did he say about his military service?”
“He fought in the Gulf War in 1991. He said he was a commando officer.”
Martin stood up.
“Very well, Lucien,” he said. “You’re safe here. Sit tight and wait for news about this Webb fellow.”
“He has friends,” Lucien insisted. “If I ever leave this place, they’ll find me and avenge him.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Lucien. A maniac like him won’t have many friends. I believe it was just another of his boasts.”
Lucien glanced at Ninette, and she nodded.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Just sit tight here. When we catch Webb, he’ll stand trial and you shall testify against him. Then you’ll be a free man again.”
Lucien covered his face and remained that way for a couple of minutes without moving. No one said a word. Then he dropped his hands and looked directly at Martin.
“I may be making the greatest mistake of my life,” he said, “but I believe you and I trust you. I shall wait for results here. How long do you think it will take?”
“I have no way of knowing,” Martin said. “It could be a week, or it could be several months. Meanwhile, have faith and wait patiently.”
Lucien and Ninette stood up as well. Lucien shook Martin‘s hand solemnly.
“Good luck,” he whispered.
He then shook Anne’s hand politely.
“I won’t be calling my mother,” he told her. “But if you see her, give her my love.”
Ninette stood facing Martin, a little embarrassed. Then she stepped forward and embraced first him and th
en Anne.
“Give my Lucien his life back,” she said. “Please.”
Martin and Anne walked up rue Saint-Denis in silence. It was clear to both of them how they happened to meet under such bizarre circumstances. No explanations were necessary. Anne slipped her arm into Martin’s.
“Let’s take a taxi to my place,” she said almost cheerfully. “I think I need a stiff drink.”
Martin refrained from suggesting they stop at a nearby bistro. He certainly preferred going to Anne’s. Screw the rented car, he thought. Let them tow it away and fine me ten thousand euros for all I care.
In Anne’s apartment, the first thing she did was to take out a bottle of whisky and two glasses from the cupboard. She put them on the table and went to the fridge for ice. A sixth sense told her to turn around. There was Martin, standing right behind her, his eyes gazing directly into hers.
Time seemed to stand still. An eternity, which may have taken all of two seconds, passed before she fell into his arms and their lips met in a passionate kiss. They clung to each other, both starved for the all they had missed these past few months. They both came up for air, and Martin covered Anne’s face with kisses and soft nips. She held his head in both her hands and planted kisses wherever her lips could reach.
It took a while, but they calmed down eventually. They both realized that they couldn’t return to the position they were in before the breakup, without clarifying certain issues. Martin had a lot of questions he wanted to ask. Anne dismissed earlier thoughts of “explaining” her behavior as resulting from the hard time she was having, the police, the investigation, and other excuses, and decided to brazen it out with the plain truth.
“I was a bloody fool,” she said. “And I possibly still am! Worthy of the utmost contempt. I saw you in a café with a beautiful young girl, and something inside me snapped. I became blind with jealousy and rage at you. A woman of my age could never compete with the girl I saw you with. With the police trailing and questioning me, I guess I went over the edge. I retreated into myself and shut out any possible means of ever seeing another point of view. It never crossed my mind that I might have been mistaken, that I may have jumped to an erroneous conclusion. But that’s exactly what had happened. When I visited Mrs. Bahtyar and met Patricia Welles for the first time, the shock of being proven wrong was so intense that I couldn’t face you and set matters straight. So, I went into denial and avoided you.”
Martin squeezed her hand silently.
“And look at me now,” she said. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I acted like an adolescent schoolgirl then, and I’m blubbering like one now. Can you ever forgive me?”
He pressed her to him and kissed her gently on the forehead. She laid her cheek on his shoulder, her arms around his back, clutching him fiercely. They remained motionless for several minutes.
“Annie,” Martin said finally, “I highly appreciate your telling me all this. I realize what it must have cost you. You have no idea how relieved I am—as if a heavy load has been removed from my shoulders. I was driving myself mad trying to figure out what I had done to justify the way you treated me. But I was also so angry with you for rebuffing me that I had no wish to initiate communications with you.”
He pushed her gently to arm’s length and looked deeply into her eyes.
“Annie, Annie, my darling,” he said softly. “I love you so much! I’m not interested in other women. It’s you I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
She tried to embrace him again, but still he held her so that their eyes were locked.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
This time he did not prevent her from throwing herself into his arms again.
“Oh, yes, Martin, my darling, yes!” And then the tears came. Relief and joy were released, as she pressed herself to him and nuzzled her face into his chest.
She pulled away suddenly. Her face was a mess—tears and embraces had smudged her heavy disguise makeup into an aborigine’s war mask. But her eyes, still wet with tears, had the tension and alertness of an operative in action.
“Martin—what about Bernard Webb?” she said.
“If what Lucien told us is true,” Martin said, “and I’m inclined to think it is, we need to take action. Come to think of it, I now remember that at about the time of Tanya’s murder, Bernard came to work with a bandage on his head. He said he was drunk and had walked into a door. Bernard is now on the yacht with the others, and we can expect them back in about a month. Why don’t we bring Sir Cedric into the picture and consult with him?”
“Set the meeting with him for this weekend, my darling,” Anne said. “I’m visiting my children.” She took him by the hand and smiled at him. “Meanwhile, we have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Not until you wash your face first,” Martin grinned at her.
SEVENTY-THREE
Anne told Sir Cedric the entire history of Tanya Gerard’s murder and everything that happened in its aftermath, including the recent conversation with Lucien. Martin sat on the couch and listened without interrupting. Sir Cedric was understandably surprised, but also not a little amused by Anne’s antics in addition to her job and her duties to the association.
But faces became serious again, when Bernard Webb was discussed. Lucien could not have known, of course, how close to home his revelation was. Bernard Webb, at this moment on the yacht somewhere in the Yellow Sea, was a murderer and a corpse looter. He knew most of their secrets. In about a month he would join them in London.
“What shall we do about him?” Anne asked.
“We have no choice,” Sir Cedric said, “but to dispose of him quietly ourselves.”
“In principle, I have to agree with you. However, that would leave poor Lucien as the only suspect for Tanya’s murder, and he’s sure to be imprisoned even though he is completely innocent.”
“May I suggest,” Martin said, startling the other two by breaking his silence, “that we conduct a search of Bernard’s residence before making a decision? We might discover things we know nothing about.”
“Good idea,” Sir Cedric said. “I’ll go along with you.”
“Actually,” Anne said, “I think it would be better if I went with Martin. I might identify things that belonged to Tanya. Besides, a man and a woman together would arouse less suspicion.”
“You know,” Martin said pensively, “now that I think of the time we spent in Iraq, I recall incidents that I had thought insignificant at the time.”
“Such as?” Anne asked.
“I remember that Bernard would disappear from time to time for a few hours. Sometimes for a whole day. And once he was missing all night, too—I happened to wake up, and I saw his bunk was empty. He always had an explanation for being absent. He would say, kind of matter-of-fact, that he was a nature lover, and was looking for exotic plants. He once told me he could sit on a rock and watch the landscape for hours without getting tired. We paid these things no attention—everyone has his idiosyncrasies. In hindsight, after hearing Lucien’s story, it is quite possible that Bernard could have been out robbing dead enemy soldiers.”
Martin paused. The enormity of the accusation was almost beyond comprehension.
“I assume,” he continued, “that if he had, indeed, taken souvenirs off Iraqi casualties, he would have gotten rid of them long ago. However, we should still search his place.”
“And just what was Bernard doing in Paris?” Anne asked. “According to Lucien, he was quite a frequent visitor.”
“Before we established the gym and the shooting range, we had all gone our separate ways. Bernard lived in Paris for a while, and learned to speak French with almost no accent. He tried his hand at business a couple of times, but he could never get off the ground.”
“But Martin, that was years ago,” Anne objected. “Lucien told us that Bernard was in Paris several times in the past few months.”
“You’re right. It is customary for us to take a couple of days leave now
and then. We’re not in the habit of inquiring where we’ve been. But thinking back, now, I believe that Bernard made more than average use of this privilege.”
They decided that they would visit Bernard’s apartment the next day.
SEVENTY-FOUR
On D-day, the Mimosa sailed southward along the North Korean western coastline, far outside that country’s territorial waters. The skies were clear and the sea was exceptionally calm. The tension within the team intensified as the launch hour approached.
“Raise the UAV on deck and assemble its wings,” the admiral commanded.
George and Philip brought the wings on deck. Bernard opened the deck hatches and went below to attach the hook on the crane to the UAV. He deftly guided Spencer, operating the crane, to lower the hook onto the right place, and then gave him the signal to lift.
The aircraft rose slowly. Once it had cleared the deck, the hatches were closed again. The UAV was then lowered, and its wings assembled, without disengaging the crane. George made a final inspection of all the electric and electronic connections. The console was carried onto the yacht’s bridge and switched on.
As Philip read out item after item on the manual’s checklist, George flipped switches, pressed buttons, and took readings of the screen to ensure everything was functioning properly. Bernard checked the UAV’s fuel tank.
Global Conspiracy Page 45