The Blood Promise: A Hugo Marston Novel

by Pryor, Mark

  He left the café at three, making his way slowly back to the apartment, stopping to arrange for flowers to be sent to Garcia’s wife. Hugo smiled at a memory, one only an FBI agent could dredge up and grace with a smile. They’d been in the village of Castet under the gun of a madman. Hugo had begged for Garcia’s life and in the process invented two children. Raul and his wife didn’t have any—Hugo didn’t know if it was by choice or circumstance—but at that moment, in that remote village, just seconds away from almost certain death, Hugo had made his friend smile. No more than a twitch of his mouth and a brighter glint in his eye, but Garcia had found it funny and for a moment Hugo wondered if he’d told his wife about it. He wished Raul had so Hugo could sign the card to her and their children, maybe provoke another smile at a time when one was so desperately needed.

  It was four o’clock when Hugo turned onto his street, Rue Jacob, and saw the police car sitting in front of his apartment building.

  Lieutenant Camille Lerens climbed out of the passenger seat and shook his hand. He noticed her cornrows now, delicate black trails across her scalp, and his mind took what he knew about her and gauged her handshake, the size of her hand even. It registered nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Everything all right?” Hugo asked. He didn’t like her being there, an instinctual reaction from someone who knew that cops never showed up with good news.

  “Yes. I need to talk to you.”

  “You want to come upstairs?”

  “Non, we don’t have time. This investigation . . .” She looked tired, her skin looked gray, and her eyes were bloodshot. Hugo guessed she’d not slept much last night, if at all.

  “I understand.”

  “Your role in it is what I wanted to discuss.”

  Here it comes, Hugo thought. He’d walked away from the murder scene when she told him to stay, and he’d almost certainly pissed her off by interrogating the Caprons before she did.

  “Look, Lieutenant,” he began, “I know what you’re going to say but I’m going to have to disappoint you. The fact is, I know more about this case than anyone and if you want it solved you’re not helping anyone by bumping me aside.” He held up a hand to silence her. “Excuse me, but I’m not done. Maybe ditching me would be by-the-book and maybe your bosses are telling you that I’m a witness as well as an investigator, I get that. But even if all that’s true, and even if this case has pretty feeble links to the senator, it still has links and I intend to do whatever I can to connect them and find out who killed my friend. And I don’t mean to come across like a cocky American jackass, but you’d do well to consider the benefits of having a former FBI agent and a former CIA agent on your team.”

  Lerens nodded slowly. “Thank you for that speech, are you finished?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. First, thank you for wasting two minutes of my life. Second, we found Natalia Khlapina. Third, I came here to tell you to be available. I’m well aware of your abilities, and they are enhanced in my view by the trust Raul Garcia placed in you. He talked of you often and with the highest regard. You’re right in that some at the prefecture may not want to share this investigation with Americans and if they knew, maybe they’d try and put a stop to your involvement.” She gave a tired smile. “But if you know anything about me, Monsieur Marston, and from the way you study me when you think I’m not looking it’s obvious you know my situation, then you may also understand that I’m more than accustomed to ignoring and evading the negativity of my superiors.”

  “Absolutely, I’m sure you have. I’m sorry, I assumed—”

  “I know what you assumed but assumptions have never been good for me, and it helps that I’m not an idiot. As you said, you know the case better than anyone and have more training, experience, and skills than anyone else in this investigation, myself included. Why the hell would anyone wanting to find Raul’s killer exclude you?”

  Hugo held up a hand in apology. “Too many encounters with bureaucracy, I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Can we get to work?”

  “Please. You said you found Natalia, is she talking?”

  “Ah, non. Pas de tout,” Lerens said. Not at all. “But then I don’t blame her, it’s not so easy to talk when you are dead.”

  Hugo let out a breath. “How?”

  “Shot. Once in the head.”

  “My God. Who found her, when, and where?”

  “Last night, someone called police because they thought they’d heard a shot under the Pont de l’Alma. Officers responded but couldn’t find anything. One of them went back this morning on his own initiative and found some blood. Looks like she was shot at the edge of the river and pushed in. We fished her out about two hours ago. Her body had jammed up against a barge roughly a mile downstream, giving the owner quite a fright. I’m assuming the water will have destroyed any good physical evidence.”

  “Probably, but there may be something under her fingernails if she fought before being shot.” Unlikely, he thought, if she was shot in the back of the head. “Any defensive wounds?”

  “A little hard to tell, she was probably bumped around a bit in the water, but the medical examiner on scene didn’t think so. They’re probably doing the autopsy right now, so maybe that’ll reveal something more.”

  “Any idea if it’s the same gun that was used on Raul?”

  “Not yet. Can’t tell from the wounds, but we have a ballistics guy on standby. As soon as we get the bullet from Khlapina he might be able to tell us.”

  Hugo’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket and checked the display. “My boss, can I update him?”

  “Oui, bien sûr.”

  “Thanks.” Hugo answered. “Ambassador, how’re you?”

  “Slightly less depressed and angry than yesterday, but not much.”

  “I get that. Listen, I’m with Lieutenant Camille Lerens, do you know her?”

  “Just by reputation, supposed to be good. And I saw in the paper she’s leading the charge.”

  “She is. She wants my help, so you OK if I focus on that for a bit?”

  “Hell yes, of course.” A pause. “Except for one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Senator Lake. Just as I was extolling his new and welcome touristic bent he’s made off again.”

  “Solo?”

  “Same routine as before. Gave his agent the slip and walked away.”

  “Wait, you said ‘agent,’ singular?”

  “Yeah, I gather he was downgraded somewhere in the administrative pipeline. He’s a one-agent worry now, apparently.”

  “Apparently not.” Hugo ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Not good timing, Senator.”

  “No shit. I’m sorry, Hugo, but do you have any ideas?”

  “When did he disappear?”

  “Two hours ago. Agent Emma Ruby called me, I said to sit tight and wait for him to roll back in like last time. She feels bad, but it’s not her fault. Sent her on some errand while he was still in his slippers, but he was gone when she got back.”

  “So definitely planned and, again, likely by him. Had his stuff ready to go.”

  “Right.”

  “Then screw it, I think just stick to your plan. Have Ruby wait at the hotel for him to come back. Then have him bounced back to the States, if you can.”

  “Works for me.”

  “Did he take his phone this time?”

  “Nope.”

  Hugo shook his head, frustrated and irritated. “OK. If he wants to get lost or keep risking trouble by pulling these stunts then let him. We have bigger worries right now.”

  “Agreed. I just wanted you to be aware. If you have any bright ideas, let me know.”

  “A leash?”

  The men chuckled, a welcome relief from the stress, and when Hugo rang off he told Lerens what was going on.

  She waved a hand. “Millions of foreigners wander around Paris every day. He’s just another one of them, but probably has a girlfriend sta
shed away. Or a boyfriend.” A mischievous glint in her eye made Hugo laugh again.

  “That’d explain a lot.”

  “Is he married?”

  “No. Divorced, I think.”

  “Then ask his ex-wife,” Lerens said. “From what I hear, they love dishing dirt on former hubbies.”

  “If I cared that much, I might.”

  “Understood.” She checked her watch. “Well, I have an autopsy to attend, hopefully missed most of it. You’re welcome to join me.”

  “That’s fine, seen my share and don’t need to see any more. If it’s OK with you, I’ll update Tom Green and then wait to hear from you on the results. Assuming Tom’s help is also welcome.”

  “Absolutely. Also, would you mind typing up a statement for our records about your visit to Capron’s store and the phone call? I don’t think I’ve had the full version, but whatever it is I’ll need it in writing so everyone on the team is on the same page.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that now.”

  “Good. I have some officers rounding up the Caprons. With this new development we want them in for questioning. Given your earlier interaction with them, it might be useful to have you there.”

  “Happy to. Call me when you find them, I’ll come straight to the prefecture.”

  “Merci.” They swapped cell phone numbers and shook hands. “I’ll call if the autopsy shows anything or we get the Caprons or ballistics. Basically, if I learn anything.” She wagged a finger, but playfully. “And if you get any more anonymous calls, please return the favor.”

  “I will. Which reminds me, are you trying to trace the call to the store?”

  “We did. Pay phone and no cameras in the area to catch who made it. With technology these days, voice distorters aren’t hard or expensive to come by and easy to carry in a pocket. Dead end, I’m afraid.”

  Hugo watched as Lieutenant Lerens drove away, then turned to walk into his building. The door swung open as he put his hand out, and Tom appeared on the top step.

  “Promoted to door man?” Tom asked. “If so, you need a suit with tassels and shit.”

  “Not yet, still working on that. Having a nice chat with our new colleague, as it happens.”

  “Who’s our new colleague?”

  “Camille Lerens.”

  “Ah. Let me guess, she wants you, which is to say us, to keep our noses out of their investigation because it’s out of our jurisdiction, because Raul was a friend and we’re too close . . . How am I doing so far?”

  “About as wrong as you could be.”

  “For real?”

  “For real. She wants all the help she can get, and that includes us.”

  “Well, fuck me. I knew I liked her for some reason. Tell me more.” He listened quietly while Hugo filled him in on the death of Natalia Khlapina, and the dead-end phone trace. “Not much for us to do except wait.”

  “About right,” Hugo said. “And Senator Lake has gone out on his own again.”

  “Does anyone care?”

  Hugo grinned. “The ambassador and maybe the agent he left behind, but otherwise I don’t think so at this point.”

  “So let him wander off. Fuck it.”

  “That’s what I said. And speaking of which, where are you off to?”

  Tom glanced at the sky, then winked at Hugo. “As the good senator himself might say . . .”

  “Yeah, I know. Mind my own business.”

  “Call me if something happens, news comes in, or any development at all. Can’t promise I’ll answer, but feel free to leave a message.”

  “Will do.” Hugo headed into the apartment building, leaving Tom to his own devices, but halfway across the lobby he stopped. His choice was between paperwork for Lieutenant Lerens or a little legwork of his own. He went back to the main door and looked out. He knew he shouldn’t, that Tom had every right to tootle about Paris on his own. But Tom’s premature bristling when he thought Lieutenant Lerens was going to shut them out of the investigation came into Hugo’s mind because it would have been an instruction that Tom, probably both of them, would have ignored. In other words, Hugo told himself, Tom had no grounds to complain at Hugo’s own little investigation progressing. It was weak justification, of course it was, but it was enough for the moment. And what Tom didn’t know . . .

  Hugo stepped into the street. Tom was still in sight and Hugo watched as he turned into Rue Bonaparte, a quiet street lined with the small shops and boutiques they both loved so much, and a street that would take Tom toward the nearest metro station. Hugo set off after him, softening his footfall and using the few pedestrians as cover.

  A large van blocked his view as he turned into Rue Bonaparte, and he had to squeeze between it and an old man with his shopping bags on the narrow sidewalk. As he came past the end of the van, Hugo heard a voice behind him and froze.

  “You’re so fucking predictable.”

  Hugo turned slowly. “Ah, Tom. I was just going for a walk.”

  “For a follow, you mean.”

  Hugo shrugged and suddenly felt ashamed, like a peeping Tom caught in the act. “Sorry, I just thought . . . Well, you know how I worry about you.”

  “That’s sweet, Dad, it really is.”

  “Fine, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s OK. Like I said, you’re predictable. And really quite adorable.” He patted Hugo on the shoulder and said, “Just don’t do it again.”

  An hour later, Lieutenant Lerens called. Her voice sounded tired, like she wanted very badly for this to be all over. Investigations, Hugo knew, came with their own cycles of emotion. The initial fizz of excitement that came with a dead body, a murder. Then a sense of trepidation at the realization of how much work had to be done. Exhaustion, like Lerens must be feeling, came and went, settling in with the slog of interviews and paperwork but evaporating, at least temporarily, when a lead revealed itself. She’d be fine, Hugo knew, they just needed a break in the case. That was a cure for all ills.

  “Khlapina was dead when she hit the water,” Lerens said. “Single bullet-wound to the right temple. The water did some damage but the medical examiner saw stippling.”

  “Contact shot,” Hugo said. “You’re thinking suicide?”

  “It’s possible. If she murdered Raul she certainly had good reason to kill herself. She’d have known we’d track her down sooner or later.”

  “For sure. You confirmed that she’s right-handed?”

  “We managed to think of that.”

  “Sorry, just being thorough.”

  “We are too, don’t worry.”

  “Did the medical examiner recover the bullet?”

  “Yes. And it looks like a .32, the same caliber as the one that killed Raul.”

  “We’re assuming the gun went into the water?”

  “We are. If it did, it’s as good as gone.” She sighed, her voice tinged with sadness. “Fifty bodies a year. That’s roughly how many are found in the Seine, did you know that? It’s convenient, of course, and with the boat traffic, the currents, and the thousands and thousands of people who live nearby, it’s a great way to destroy evidence. Human and otherwise.”

  “That’s a lot of people,” Hugo agreed. “So, what’s next for us?”

  “Right, next.” Lerens’s voice stiffened. “One of the reasons I called is that we have the Caprons en route to the prefecture. Should be here in thirty minutes or less.”

  “I’ll leave right away.”

  “Thanks. And bring your friend Tom.” She chuckled. “When we mentioned him to the Caprons at the store, you should have seen their faces.”

  Hugo laughed. “Tom can have that effect, no doubt. But he’s out right now. I’ll call and see if I can get him.” Hugo paused, but figured Lerens had a right to know as she was trusting them to be a part of her investigation. “Look, he’s a bit of a lone wolf sometimes. He’s used to operating on the fringes, of the law and of decency. Don’t get me wrong, he’s the finest human being I know, it’s just that sometimes he forgets
which set of rules he needs to play by.”

  “I know. Raul told me about both of you, which means I have an idea of what I’m getting into by inviting him to play, as you put it.” She lowered her voice. “Look, I want to make sure the person who killed Raul Garcia is caught, and if it’s Natalia Khlapina I want to be able to tell Raul’s wife that I’m one hundred percent sure that his killer is dead. But I also want to be able to tell Madam Garcia why Khlapina killed him, why she wanted to kill you. For her, this has to make some sense, and for me, too. What I’m saying is, if I have someone on my team who can help get me those answers I don’t care, not in this case, if he upsets a few people to get them.”

  “Especially people like the Caprons.”

  “Exactement. I’ll see you within the hour?”

  The Caprons were in separate interview rooms, and both looked terrified. Hugo was able to walk the narrow hallway from one observation room to the next and he did that several times, gauging each man’s demeanor. The two rooms had one-way glass that looked into the cramped, windowless rooms where both Caprons sat fidgeting in plastic chairs.

  “You want to do this?” Lerens asked. She’d been disappointed that Tom wasn’t there, as was Hugo. They knew he could be an effective weapon this evening, though Hugo couldn’t help but feel a measure of relief. These interviews would be recorded and any deviation from textbook interrogation could easily find itself in Ambassador Taylor’s hands or, God forbid, the hands of someone more inclined to damage his or Tom’s career.

  “Sure. But tell me what they’ve said so far.”

  “Very little. We offered them a lawyer but it turns out they trust lawyers less than cops, so we have that going for us.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I thought so. All we know is that the son, Bruno, bought the necklace from Natalia Khlapina.”

  “Who wound up dead last night.”

  “Correct.”

  “Does he know she’s dead?”

  “No.” She gave a wry smile. “Unless he killed her.”