Wanted (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers, Book 1)

by Nick Stephenson

  Leopold pulled out Sophie’s cell phone, bringing up the schematics he had downloaded earlier. He selected the set of breakers he needed and forced the lock open with the knife. Leopold used the light from the phone’s screen to locate the circuits he’d have to disable – the ones that fed the security cameras. Simply flipping the switches wouldn’t work, as they were designed to automatically realign after a few seconds. Instead, Leopold took the knife and severed the cables, permanently disrupting the power supply.

  Slipping the knife back into his pocket, Leopold turned his attention back to the cell phone. He downloaded a copy of the photographs he had taken in the art gallery and sent them via picture message to the last incoming number in the phone’s call history. Accompanying the photos, Leopold included the subject line: “Corner office. Top floor. 335962.”

  He waited for the message to go through and put the phone away. Tossing the guard’s jacket in a trash can on his way out, Leopold headed for one of the stairwells that led to the upper floors.

  Chapter 45

  THE AUTOMATIC DOORS slid open and Mary led Sophie through to the cavernous lobby. Inside, the air conditioning was on full blast and the receptionist looked as though she was trying not to shiver. Her desk sat in the middle of the floor, and she looked up as the two women approached.

  Mary smiled politely and took a seat in the waiting area, thumbing through the magazines that had been left out. At the far end of the room she could see the elevators and a door leading through to the stairs. Glancing up, she could make out at least four security cameras, each with blinking red lights. She tapped her fingers against the chair.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Sophie.

  “Keep an eye on those cameras,” said Mary, pointing. “When the lights go out, that means the power’s been cut. After that, we need to kick up a storm and divert the security guards down here while Leopold heads for the top floor.”

  “What about that man with the gun? If he’s here, he’ll come for us too.”

  “That’s the intention, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, I’ll keep us safe.”

  Sophie didn’t look convinced.

  “Just stay close, okay?” said Mary. “Look,” she pointed again. “The lights on the cameras have gone out. It’s time to move.”

  The police sergeant got to her feet and walked over to the reception desk.

  “You speak English?” she asked.

  The receptionist nodded.

  “Good. Now listen, I demand to speak to whoever the hell runs this place. I made some, erm” she glanced down at some of the corporate literature spread across the desk, “I made some big investments that didn’t work out. I lost a lot of money. I need to speak with someone, now.”

  The receptionist sighed. “You have an account representative?” she asked, looking at Mary’s crumpled clothes. “You need to speak to them about our policies on how we handle our clients’ money. There is nothing I can do from here.”

  Mary slapped both palms down on the desk. “Hey, don’t handle me. I lost a lot of money thanks to your company’s incompetence. And not just me, either.” She waved Sophie over. “Her too.”

  “Madame, please. I can’t help you. Please arrange an appointment with your account executive. I’m sure he will be able to help both you and your daughter.”

  Sophie bit her lip and looked away.

  Mary resisted the urge to slap the receptionist across the head. “We’re not going anywhere, you understand?” She noticed some of the other people in the lobby start to pay attention. “Get the CEO down here, right now. It’s about time you big corporations started taking some accountability for all the pain and misery you’ve caused.”

  “Yeah, we’re not going anywhere,” said Sophie, approximating an American accent. “And she’s my sister.”

  “Make sure you get that last bit right,” said Mary. “And don’t go trying to palm us off on someone else. We demand to see the boss.”

  The receptionist rolled her eyes and lifted her telephone. “Bonjour, oui, c’est moi. Envoyez sécurité maintenant, s’il vous plait. Merci.” She hung up. “Security are on the way. Please leave.”

  Mary smiled. “Bring it on.”

  Chapter 46

  THE EARBUD CRACKLED and Reiniger heard the orders come through. Two women were causing a scene in the lobby and the security cameras were malfunctioning. The assassin swore as he reached the ground floor. Blake had obviously created an diversion, but without surveillance to cover the rest of the building, Reiniger knew the cop and the girl were the only leads he had.

  He would just have to persuade them to cooperate.

  Chapter 47

  HALF A DOZEN uniformed guards strode across the lobby in Mary and Sophie’s direction. A few paces behind them, the German was barking orders. He was still dressed in the charcoal suit, a slight bulge in his jacket giving away the handgun he wore holstered to his ribs. The guards began to fan out.

  “Time to go,” said Mary, grabbing hold of Sophie’s wrist.

  “Ow!”

  “Just follow me.”

  The police sergeant dragged the younger woman away from the reception desk, heading toward a set of doors that led through to some of the lower offices. Mary noticed a suit approaching the entrance from behind the glass, reaching for his key card. They broke into a jog, catching hold of the door as he passed through.

  “Hé, toi!”

  “Keep moving!” Mary snatched the man’s pass out of his hand as they barged past, slamming the door behind them.

  Ahead, an open plan office stretched out to the edge of the building, broken up by a series of partitions. The room was crammed full of workers hunched over their desks, with others scurrying between meeting rooms carrying stacks of paper. Nobody looked up.

  “Where now?” asked Sophie, out of breath.

  Mary looked through the glass door panels and saw the guards approaching from fifty feet away. “We need to hide, to keep them focused on us for as long as possible. Leopold won’t need long.”

  “What if they catch us?”

  “Don’t think about that.” She started walking, keeping a fast pace, and aimed for the fire exits at the far wall. “If we can get onto the next floor, we might have better luck.”

  They pushed on, weaving between the desks. A few of the employees gave them puzzled looks, but nobody interfered. As they reached the halfway point, Mary heard raised voices and turned her head. The German and his team of guards had arrived.

  “Keep going, nearly there,” she said, speeding up. Allowing herself one more glance, she saw the German lock eyes with her from across the room. She quickly faced forward again. “Try not to look back. Through here.”

  They reached the far end of the office and Mary pushed through a heavy wooden fire door, leading to a set of concrete stairs. She looked up.

  “These go all the way to the top. We need to keep the guards on the lower levels if we can.”

  “There should be plenty of meeting rooms to hide in,” said Sophie.

  “Let’s hope so.” Mary sucked in a deep breath before heading off, feeling her legs start to burn.

  Chapter 48

  REINIGER LED THE six guards across the office floor and through to the stairwell. He paused as they reached the steps.

  “Sir, orders?” One of the uniforms asked.

  “They couldn’t have gone far,” he said. “Split up. I’ll take the second floor.”

  The security guards nodded and set off up the stairs, each headed for a different level. Reiniger followed, veering off at the top of the first flight. He pushed through the fire door and glanced around. Ahead, another identical office area opened up. In the middle was a bank of meeting rooms, surrounded on all sides by desks of varying sizes and shapes. The open-plan design seemed to encourage employees to get up and walk around, and Reiniger noticed that anyone not chained to a telephone was either chatting with a colleague or in the process of making themselves coffee. The noise and hustle was e
nough that it was unlikely anyone would notice two women pass through.

  Reiniger made his way toward the meeting rooms in the center, glancing around as he walked. Human nature, he knew, would compel his targets to seek a hiding place rather than risk engaging him, but they could only stay hidden for so long. Reiniger only hoped he had the chance to find them before the others did.

  Although the security guards were well paid and generally did as they were told, Reiniger doubted their stomachs could cope with what he had in mind. In his years as a contract assassin, the German had been given plenty of opportunity to hone his skills at extracting information from unwilling subjects, and he was keen to revisit some of his old practices. Though many of his contemporaries preferred the shock and awe effect of complicated torture equipment, Reiniger liked to keep it simple. Often, the tip of a knife blade was all that was needed to exact maximum pain. On many occasions just the threat of having one’s skin peeled off was enough to ensure compliance. If more persuasion were needed, Reiniger had seen great success with removing a subject’s fingernails. The pain was excruciating, but there was very little blood loss – meaning the interviewee almost never died as a result. Almost.

  The assassin wasn’t sure which method would be needed in this case. All he knew was that he looked forward to finding out.

  Chapter 49

  THE MEETING ROOM was dark and empty, except for a conference table and ceiling-mounted projector. The walls were thin, probably made from the same material as the desk partitions, and there was practically zero soundproofing. All the noise from the printers and fax machines outside seeped through, along with the babble of a hundred different conversations going on. Though she was running for her life, Mary caught herself wondering who the hell still used fax machines.

  “He’ll find us in here,” whispered Sophie.

  Both women sat on the floor, away from the windows.

  “Just keep quiet,” said Mary. “This building has twenty stories, and each floor must have at least two dozen meeting rooms. By the time they check them all, Leopold will be done.”

  “Or they’ll catch him too.”

  “Don’t worry, they won’t.” Mary wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

  Sophie opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind.

  “What is it?”

  “Pardonnez-moi, it’s nothing. I mean, given the circumstances.. really, it’s nothing.”

  Mary sat up a little. “No, go on. What is it? It’s not like we’ve got anything else to talk about.”

  Sophie bit her lower lip. “It’s just… I don’t get what the deal is with him, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s got all this money, a big company to run, all these responsibilities – and he spends his time playing Sherlock Holmes? I just don’t get it.”

  “It’s a little complicated.”

  “People keep saying that. I think I have the right to know.”

  Mary sighed. “You ever heard of Robert and Gisele Blake?”

  “No. Are they related?”

  “Yes, they were Leopold’s parents. Very well known in their time, always in the papers for one thing or another.”

  “They died?”

  “Yes. A mountaineering accident, but Leopold doesn’t talk about it much. It took me years just to get that far with him. He never really accepted the fact they were gone, you know?”

  “Why?”

  “His mother’s body was recovered, but they never found his father’s. Leopold was convinced he was still out there somewhere. Even when the courts declared Robert Blake legally dead and Leopold inherited the company, he never gave up.”

  “His dad meant that much to him?”

  Mary frowned. “No, it wasn’t that. Not exactly. They way Leopold tells it, his father wasn’t exactly a role model. Though he never speaks about it, not directly anyway, it’s possible his father was violent toward him and his mother. It’s not something I tend to bring up in conversation, but I have my own theories.”

  “So why does he look for him?”

  “I think he wants answers, to find the truth. Getting to the truth has always been an obsession, ever since I’ve known him. He’s always felt like he needs to help other people find answers too. I guess it helps him come to terms with his own issues.”

  “He’s a little crazy in the head, isn’t he?” said Sophie.

  “Oh undoubtedly. But not in the way you think. He’s really quite brilliant, you know. Impulsive and reckless, but also brilliant.”

  “How did you meet?”

  “It wasn’t long after the mountaineering accident. Leopold was a complete wreck at the time, dosed up on God-knows-what, and trying to track down someone who was apparently trying to blackmail him. Let’s just say he’s come a long way since then.”

  “What happened?”

  Mary hesitated. “First time I met him, I arrested him for assault and being under the influence of illegal drugs. Once he sobered up, he explained what was going on. I said I’d help him if he agreed to clean up his act. He agreed, and actually proved to be useful in catching the blackmailer. The rest is history.”

  “And I guess he never found out what happened to his father?”

  “That’s the funny thing – whenever I ask him about it, he shuts down. It’s like he’s hiding something from me.”

  “I guess he has a lot of secrets,” said Sophie.

  “More than we’ll ever know.”

  “And what happens if Leopold can’t get what he needs from Harris?”

  “The police have enough evidence to put all three of us in prison. And from what I’ve seen today, I don’t think any of us would last very long in there – I doubt we’d even make it to a trial. If Leopold can’t get something on Harris, we’re screwed. And that’s if the psychotic German doesn’t catch up with us first.”

  “You have faith in him, don’t you?”

  “In the German? I’ve got faith he’ll torture us to death if he gets to us before the police do.” She noticed Sophie recoil. “Oh, you meant Leopold.”

  “Oui, I can tell you think highly of him.”

  Mary smiled. “He takes a bit of getting used to.”

  “You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?”

  “What, me? Don’t be stupid.”

  “And you always smile a little when you talk about him.”

  Mary put a hand to her mouth. “Let’s just change the subject.”

  “Okay, so this German guy,” said Sophie, obliging. “He’s going to torture us to death?”

  “Don’t worry, he’s not going to find –” She froze. The unmistakable sound of scuffling feet coming from outside. “Keep down,” she said, turning to Sophie. “Someone’s coming.”

  A shadow crossed the window.

  “Get ready to run. When I say…”

  The door handle moved.

  “One… Two…”

  The door opened.

  “Three!”

  Chapter 50

  ROUSSEAU CIRCLED THE Dubois residence for the fifth time, in the process of deciding whether or not to chase down the tech who had promised him quick results. Just as he made up his mind, his cell phone buzzed. Before he could pull over to read the message, the car’s hands-free system registered an incoming call and the speakers started blasting out a shrill ringtone. Rousseau grimaced and answered.

  “Capitaine, this is Jean-Pierre.” It was the tech from earlier. “I’ve successfully cloned the cell phone you gave me and sent the original down to evidence. I’m forwarding all incoming text messages and calls to you. It looks like you might have something already. Do the numbers ‘335962’ mean anything to you?”

  “Non, not that I can think of. Do you have a trace on the owner?”

  “The cell phone is registered to an American. I pulled some strings at the embassy and had them run the records – it belongs to a cop with the NYPD. Her name is Mary Jordan. The last call is from one of the
suspects, Sophie Bardot.”

  “A cop is mixed up in all this?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Can you get a location?”

  “Oui, I pinged Mlle. Bardot’s handset. We’ve narrowed it down to a cell tower near La Defense. The techs are working to get .”

  “Good. Send the address to my GPS system when you have it. I’ll make my way there now. Arrange for a backup team to join me once you have the location.”

  “Yes, sir. We should have it within five minutes.”

  “I’ll be halfway there by then. Make sure you hurry.”

  Rousseau hung up and activated the police cherry still fixed to his roof, turning the car toward the main road that led out to the Boulevard Périphérique – the highway that would take him straight to La Defense. The other cars moved to let him pass and Rousseau floored it.

  He hit the open road at speed, and shifted into a fast cruise. Despite the breakthrough with the cell phone, something didn’t feel right. Who was the gunman who brought down his men in the parking lot? How did an American cop get involved? Why was she receiving phone calls from one of the other suspects, one she was traveling with? And, above all, how could a trained professional be careless enough to leave a cell phone where Rousseau could easily find it?

  This whole case stank, and Blake owed him answers. Even if Rousseau had to lock the arrogant bastard up for twenty years to get them.

  Chapter 51