“Ally?“ Julie softly touched her shoulder. “We’re gonna make it, you’ll see.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“What we’re gonna find out.”
What if her uncle had really tried to kill her? If he was a murderer who wiped out her family? What if…
“At least you’ll know the truth and deal with it.”
Ally tilted her head and looked at her friend. “When did you become such a wise, master Yoda?”
“My horoscope has promised me a day full of surprises. Why shouldn’t I surprise myself?” She winked at Ally, whose mouth hung open.
“Who are you and what have you done to my friend?”
“By the way, your horoscope says you shouldn’t make any important decisions, so leave the brainwork up to me.” She grinned and went back to her breakfast.
Ally shook her head.
“Oh, and I’ve called up the page of your stupid calendar. If you want to know your word of the day…”
“Um, yeah?”
“Damn it, I’ve forgotten it. I’ve sent it to you via WhatsApp, look for yourself.”
Ally pulled the iPad out and checked her messenger. When the word of the day appeared, her mouth became dry. It was empathy. Further below it said:
Empathy is the ability to put yourself into the position and emotions of somebody else. Also a part of one’s empathy is one’s own reaction to the feelings of others like e.g. pity, sadness or pain.
Empathy plays an essential role in many sciences, for example criminalistics, psychology and psychiatry.
Use the word as much as possible today and integrate it well into your day.
Be empathetic!
Really? She took pills to avoid just that.
The co-pilot picked that moment to make an announcement. They had started their descend into Paris and the flight attendant would come by to clear their tables. Time to fill their tummies. It would be a tough day.
~ * ~
David and he had been friends for decades, but he’d never seen him this upset. Cole typed a combination of numbers into his smart phone to check Ally’s position. She hadn’t bluffed, she really was at the airport. On the runway to be precise.
Shaking his head, he closed the cell and put it back into his jeans. The child was full of surprises. Who would‘ve thought that she had the courage to travel to Europe on her own? And without her pills. She had to be frightened out of her mind. How was she dealing?
Despite David’s effort to have the trip cancelled, she’d successfully fooled him, which was quite a accomplishment. Cole knew first-hand about David’s control issues.
Deep in thoughts, he walked down the stairs to the Metro. He’d better get some sleep. The moment Ally landed in Paris he’d have enough on his hands keeping an eye on her.
Another question bothered him, one he liked even less than Ally’s departure for France.
What was he supposed to do with Iwanow? He was the reason Ally ran away and was sitting on that plane. It all started with that stupid interview. If he hadn’t lured her to Paris, she would’ve never left. She would be safe, and wouldn’t be running around trying to find him. Of course, the break-in had done the rest to draw her out of her shell. But Iwanow was the driving force behind it. Concerning the timing, both events, the interview and the break-in, fit so perfectly, as if somebody had planned it well in advance. Nevertheless, he knew that the two events weren’t interconnected, which was even more baffling.
He took the first Metro, the direction didn’t matter. He would change trains a few times before going to his hotel near the Gare de l’Est. Better safe than sorry, and at the moment he couldn’t be careful enough.
~ * ~
A First Class flight had many advantages. One boarded before everybody else, got pampered during the flight, and was allowed to leave the plane as soon as the wheels stopped turning. Even at the baggage claim the First Class suitcases came out first. Pure discrimination! But Julie was having the time of day.
That was certainly not what Ally was having when they left the security area and got to the overcrowded waiting area of the Terminal. Hundreds of people were clustering the exit, armed with flowers, balloons and cheerful signs to greet their loved ones from Overseas.
“Are we getting picked up?” July threw an inquisitive glance at Ally.
“Renée didn’t really talk about it.”
“And where are we going to sleep?”
“The Le Meurice. Must be a small hotel, it has, like, forty rooms.”
Julie pouted. “Why did she book such a rinky-dink place?”
“It’s Viktor’s hotel. One of the conditions for the interview was that we stayed there.”
“But why?”
Ally shrugged. “For security reasons?”
“Billionaires are nutcases,” Julie grumbled and threw her duffle bag over her shoulder.
And then she saw it. A narrow sign with Mme. Reynolds, held by a dark haired hulk wearing sunglasses. Standing next to him was his clone, so it was obvious the two belonged together. How did they know they had rebooked their flights? Then again…the name Reynolds wasn’t that unusual, maybe they were looking for somebody else.
Before she was able to pose her question to Julie the guy with the sign had noticed her staring at him.
“Mademoiselle Reynolds?” he asked her with a broad smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The fact that he was looking at Julie while speaking irritated her even more.
“Seattle Times?” he inquired further as they continued to stare at him.
“Yep, that’s us.” Julie said.
Ally sensed the intention before he was able to take a step towards them. His thoughts were like hot needles in her mind and she knew within the bat of an eyelash that he neither belonged to Viktor nor the hotel. He had the order to bring them to his boss, a powerful and cruel man.
A group of Japanese students, most of them female, pushed by and the emotional connection was cut.
Ally reacted without thinking.
“Oh my God! It’s Antonio Banderas,” she exclaimed, took a step back and pointed at the twin of the sign bearer. The Japanese girls stopped short, some squealed with excitement, others took out their mobile phones and took photos of the guy, while surrounding the two men.
Julie stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Antonio Banderas? Are you dense or what?”
“Let’s get out of here,” Ally hissed. “Those guys weren’t kosher.”
“Not kosher? As in being crooks?”
Ally nodded.
“Well, then go ahead. We’ll meet outside.”
“What are you…?”
Before she could finish Julie dove into the group of squealing students. A bunch of high school students had joined them, excitedly asking for autographs.
What in God’s name was Julie doing? They had escaped these guys by hairsbreadth, no reason to give them a second chance.
Before she could make a decision her friend was back at her side, grinning like a fool. She took her hand and pulled her towards the exit.
At the cabstand they found themselves at the end of a ridiculously long line. Not good. They had to get out of here, like yesterday.
Ally let her eyes wander across the parking lot and noticed an Air France bus. The last passengers had just boarded and the driver was about to close the luggage compartment.
Now or never. Beckoning like lunatics, they ran to the bus stop. After showing their tickets they were allowed to enter the bus. If the driver wondered why First Class passengers were taking the bus, he didn’t show it. As they drove off, they saw the two gorillas running from the building and towards the cabs.
“Head down,” Julie hissed.
Ally followed her instructions without hesitation.
“That was close,” Julie remarked once they had entered the A3, heading south.
“What if they saw us?”
“They didn’t. Otherwise they’d be right be
hind us, don’t you think?”
Ally nodded.
“How did you know about them being, well, some felons?”
“He, um, had a weapon under his jacket,” she lied. “And when I saw him going for it, I reacted without thinking.”
Julie didn’t seem convinced.
“And I realized nobody knew about our early departure. We were supposed to arrive this evening, remember?” So, how had these thugs known about it? And why did they wait for them anyway? Did these guys have anything to do with the break-in? Unlikely. There were 5,000 miles between Seattle and Paris. Why would some Frenchmen break into her uncles house? Man, this was so messed up!
“Not bad, Sherlock. Without your combination skills we’d probably ended up in their trunk.”
“Do you have any idea where we’re going?“ Ally asked to change the subject. Her knees were shaking and her pulse wasn’t able to calm down. Twenty four hours ago her life had been in order. Right now she didn’t even know who the man was she’d been living with since she was three years old.
“No idea. The sign of the bus said something in French. Can’t be that wrong.”
“Julie, we’re in France. Everything is French here. What did it say?“
“Mopantas–something like that.”
Ally leaned into the aisle. “Paris?” she asked an older lady and pointed at the driver.
The woman nodded. “Montparnasse.”
At least they were on their way into the French capital. Now they needed a place to stay, the Meurice was no longer an option. Those guys had been waiting at the airport, so they certainly knew which hotel they were supposed to stay.
Julie grabbed the tablet, goggled Paris hotels and reserved a room at Le Bristol. Her sassy grin told Ally that they were in trouble.
Well, even more of it.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Yeah, right. “Spit it out!”
“I’m just happy to be in, well, Paris and stuff.”
That leaves the question what the heck they were doing here. Sightseeing was most likely not on their program. Which left the interview.
Ally internally shook her head. Who was she kidding? With that mess in her backpack, chatting with Viktor was the last thing on her mind.
The adrenaline kick in the terminal had a curing side effect,
and knocked her out of her state of shock. As soon as they were in the hotel they would pick the last secrets from the MacBook. They would find Cole’s hideout and… and…
Her guts tightened. Was it really possible that CP was her father? So far she hadn’t had the opportunity to think it over. If her parents were still alive, why had they left her to grow up with her…with David? It made no sense. She hoped they would be able to secure more information from the saved data. To be honest, she wasn’t really interested in this creepy secret project. She wanted to get more information about her parents. Who were they and where were they hiding?
“Man, I can’t believe it. This guy’s first name is Andrea. His parents must hate him.”
Ally looked over to her friend who was inspecting several credit cards.
“How did you get these?”
“From Don Giovanni and his pal at the airport. The girls were practically ripping their leather jackets into pieces. Anybody could have robbed them. They can be lucky it was us. But, Geez, Andrea? Wait a minute. Isn’t the opera guy called that?”
“Who?”
“Andrea Broccoli.”
“Bocelli!”
“Isn’t he gay?”
Although she didn’t want to, she had to laugh. “You’re nuts!”
This was getting better and better. They could now add credit card fraud to their long list of delinquencies. At the end of their trip the FBI would probably be at their heels. Or Interpol. Or both.
“You’ve got to become gay with a name like that. Just imagine Marc’s parents calling him Marcy.”
“Shut up!“ Ally replied, biting her lip to suppress a laugh.
“Never mind,” Julie muttered. “At least this way the chick at the reception won’t give us a hard time.”
“What do you mean?”
Julie fluttered her eyelashes. “Don’t I look like Andrea Broccoli?” As if on cue, they broke into a snort of laughter.
05
Viktor Iwanow entered his office, took off his two thousand Euro jacket and threw it to the ground like a rag. After reaching his desk, he grabbed his phone and pressed One for the head of security.
He was fuming. How in hell did the Italians get wind of Ally’s rebooking? And how the fuck had they known about her trip at all? This wasn’t a matter of the rivaling families of Paris.
The French capital was split in two. One half belonged to Enzo di Lorenzo, the head of the Italian mafia. The other belonged to Sergej Iwanow, leader of the Vory V Zakone, which, at the bottom line, means something like Thieves in the Law. Both parties were spying on each other unscrupulously. After all, it was always good to know what one’s opponent was planning. In their business surprises were as welcome as search warrants.
To outsider, Viktor wasn’t involved in the family business. But being the son of the biggest bastard in the history of France, didn’t come without consequences. Even though his dad had done everything in his power to keep him out of it. That’s one of the reasons why Viktor had grown up in Saint Petersburg, London and Switzerland. Everywhere but near his father. Sergej had plans for his son, he was supposed to go into politics. He was dreaming of a new Ukraine, including Crimea and the rest the Russian stole, with his son at the top. And that’s why he needed money–lots of it. It didn’t matter where it came from. In order to win he needed a fucking fortune.
“Danilo!” Viktor pressed between his clenched teeth when his head of security finally picked up the phone. “Get your ass into my office. And pick up the goddamn radio scanner!”
Instead of finishing the conversation, he threw the phone at the wood-paneled wall, where it smashed into pieces. Goddamn spies! Grinding his teeth, he paced his work space. They scanned the house twice a week for bugs, but those cunning bastards changed their frequencies on a daily basis, causing Sergej and his men to constantly lag behind. Technically Enzo was perfectly up-to-date, which couldn’t be said of Viktor’s father. He wasn’t a planner like Enzo. He was a moody leader, made impromptu decisions, only to reverse them the next moment. Whoever was dumb enough to follow the first order was punished, as if it was their fault their boss couldn’t warm up to a strategy. Working with Sergej was a constant challenge, but for his enemies it was even harder. Due to his volatility he was impossible to gage. But that’s the only advantage that came with Sergej’s mood swings.
Maybe it was good Viktor was looking after the business for a while. Too much had accumulated, the frustration of his men lingered in the air like smoke. The security leak didn’t surprise him at all. It was probably one of their own people selling his father to the highest bidder. How much was Enzo offering for a well-placed wire in his office?
Sighing, he dropped into his office chair, grabbed Ally’s file and went through it. He didn’t have to read it, he’d done so a hundred times already. She was odd. Completely different from the girls he usually dealt with. Though girl didn’t quite fit. There was nothing girlish about his last bed warmer, especially not what Ally was exuding. Purity.
Viktor was neither into innocence nor school girls. But this gal had something fascinating. Strange. She looked rather average. Straight, dark hair, eyes that sometimes shimmered gray, then again blue or green. She was slim. Perhaps a bit too slim for his taste. Not like Twiggy, but not exactly curvy either. And still. He took her photo and contemplatively caressed her cheek with his thumb.
There was something about her that drew his attention. Her eyes were peculiar, it almost seemed as if they were constantly changing color. Aside from that she had flawless skin, without any makeup. She was obviously not using any, not even mascara. She didn’t have
to. Her eyelashes were long and thick. While studying her picture, he noticed it was not her appearance that made him curious, but her expression.
There was something in her gaze that reminded him of himself, an undefined longing. In the photograph stapled to her file she exuded a sadness that touched him. As if she knew that there was something she’d never have.
He picked up a second image, a snapshot. She’d tilted her head, looking at one of her friends. A huge strength was buried in that look.
He noticed her uneven bangs. Generally, her hair looked as if she had cut it herself despite being able to afforded a star coiffeur. He interpreted her carelessness as a contempt for the world in general or maybe for a specific person in particular. Who was that person she directed her rebelliousness at? Was it her only way to show resistance?
The fact that he couldn’t answer those questions rankled him, which was surprising. Normally, his thoughts were turning around business, security leaks or an upcoming event.
He slowly went through the rest of the pictures. Ally at school, at her training, jogging. No wonder she looked like a rail. In one of the photos she was laughing about something outside the picture. She rarely smiled, he noticed. There were also snapshots of her friend. What was her name again? Julie was written on the edge of the photograph. Well, she was definitively more his taste. But he wasn’t looking for a new flirt. He needed something else, and this girl would provide it to him.
The corners of his mouth lifted as he picked up the photo and looked at it again. You don’t stand a chance. His smile widened. He’d make sure she would fall for him until she’d do anything for him. They always did. Women weren’t particularly complicated. Most of them were looking for a ruthless bastard with a heart of gold. The first part was him, the second–not. Whoever saw a contradiction had no idea about the other sex. The women hitting on him were fully convinced that he was tortured soul. An ass, sure, but one driven by inner demons who just hadn’t met the right woman yet. Somebody who’d understand him. Everyone of them wanted to be that woman, taming the beast.
Operation Heartbreaker Page 6