The Geneva Decision

by Seeley James

  “Conor is dead?” Calixthe paled.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Mustafa.”

  Calixthe looked down at the table.

  Pia said, “You want me to believe you didn’t order the hit?”

  Calixthe twisted in her chair. Her silence told Pia everything.

  Pia leaned in close. “Feeling alone, Calixthe?”

  The woman glared at her again but couldn’t keep it up. She looked away.

  “So it’s true,” Pia said. “Mustafa’s taking over. That’s why le Directeur didn’t come in person tonight. He didn’t even send his assassin—he sent you. And we both know why, don’t we?”

  Calixthe stared at the table.

  “He knew it was a trap, Calixthe. He knew I’d win because I always win. So he sent you and you fell for it. You figured this was your chance to get back on his good side. You even brought your best boys for the job.”

  She walked around behind Calixthe. Leaned down, her face next to Calixthe’s ear. “You lost.”

  Calixthe tried to move her head. Her teeth flashed as if she were trying to bite someone. Too bad her head was still taped to the chair.

  Pia said, “Give me le Directeur and I’ll let you make a break for it.”

  “Why would you let me run?”

  “Three reasons. One, I want le Directeur. Two, you’re Cameroon’s problem. Three, you’re ineffective and therefore no longer a threat.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “If anyone thinks I’m dishonest—raise your hand.” Pia looked around the table at her trussed up captives. “There you have it. Unanimous.”

  She smiled. Calixthe scowled. Pia said, “OK. You have my word in front of these witnesses. I won’t stop you. Unless you do something stupid like make for my little gun collection over there.”

  “OK, untie me and I’ll tell you a little.”

  “You cannot be serious!” Janko said. “You will not turn her loose.”

  “What is with you?” Pia said. “You try to arrest me for assaulting a killer, you don’t take me up on the offer to let you be the hero, and now you want to tell me what to do? Shut up or I’ll turn your lights out again.”

  Janko fumed and squirmed in his chair.

  “I have changed my mind, detective,” Alphonse said. “I think you are not the smart man. Not at all.”

  Pia nodded to Klaus and he cut Calixthe loose. Pia kept her gun trained on Calixthe and said, “Quickly now—a good clue or I dart you and you’re back where you started.”

  “I never learned their names,” Calixthe said. “I know that he works at one of the banks. He lives well but never has cash. I know nothing about her except that they are lovers.”

  “That’s it? Riddles? You expect me to turn you loose with that?”

  Calixthe looked hurt.

  “C’mon, tell me what they look like. What language do they speak? Haircuts? Race? Height?”

  “They speak French and German. They’re both average height. He wore a fake mustache. She wore a shoulder-length blonde wig. They’re both white.”

  Pia rolled her eyes. “You’re a waste of time.”

  She tossed her head toward the door. Calixthe took two steps. A dart popped in from the other room. Calixthe fell to the floor only two steps from her chair.

  Detective Janko said, “You lied to her.”

  “Did I lift a finger to stop her?”

  Chapter 39

  * * *

  28-May, 8AM

  From the living room, Tania said, “I’m going back to bed now.”

  “OK, I’ve heard enough,” Janko said. “Cut me loose, please.”

  “Hang on.” Pia recorded him with her phone. “Tell me what you’ve learned.”

  Janko recited the evidence as presented and pledged to let Pia leave Austria on her own terms. They agreed that neither of them would benefit from bringing the darting of Janko to light. Klaus cut him loose and woke his partner. And, at Janko’s insistence, she reluctantly deleted the staged pictures of him.

  Turning to Walter, Pia said, “Listen, this is your last chance. You just watched Calixthe sell out le Directeur. What do you think she’s going to tell the Austrian polizei about you? She’ll be a witness against you, claiming you’re Elgin Thomas. A former CIA agent makes a believable witness. Tell me where I can find Mustafa—I’ll take care of him and you’ll have one less problem.”

  Walter’s head nodded in tiny bobs. “He went to Geneva. We split up in Brussels.”

  “Why would he go there? They’re looking for him.”

  “The three of them, both les Directeurs and Susan, hatched the plan together. But she pushed them around too much. Wanted more of the money. Then they met Mustafa. He was like their mad dog. When they send him to kill somebody, it got done. Besides, he was the one who knew the Filipinos. Their kind work cheap and keep their mouths shut.”

  “Simple economics then,” Pia said. “The cheapest killer gets the job. He’s in, you’re out.”

  Walter shrugged. Pia wished him luck with the Austrians. Klaus cut everyone loose and Detective Janko took their statements.

  When he was done, she packed up and called the bellman. She went downstairs with Alphonse while Klaus and Tania waited for the next elevator. In the lobby, they stopped and looked at each other.

  “You want a ride back to Geneva?” she asked.

  “I’m not wanted in Geneva.”

  “Neither am I.” Pia tried to smile.

  “I am not certain you trust me,” he said.

  She started to speak. He put his index finger across her lips.

  “You are not certain,” he said.

  She nodded. Her stomach twisted another notch. She clamped her lips and said, “Where are you going then?”

  “Back to Chamonix,” he said. “She sent me home.”

  “You can ride with me to Geneva, drive home from there.”

  He put a knuckle under her chin, raised her face to his. “I would like that very much.”

  “I could send Klaus and Tania back on a commercial flight. You and I can get some privacy in the jet.”

  He smiled. “No. This would not be right.”

  “Wait, wha—”

  “I want you most desperately. But, I could not live with your doubts about me. No. I will not take advantage of you until I have proven myself to you.” He paused. “And then, I will take every advantage.”

  Pia’s mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out. She backed up a step. Something whacked her thigh.

  “If you’re not going to kiss him,” Tania said, “can I give it a shot?”

  Fifteen minutes later, when her entourage boarded the jet, Pia was still pissed at Tania.

  In the air, she called the Major and exchanged updates.

  They decided they had to move fast. With Calixthe in custody, the couple playing le Directeur would feel the noose tightening. The Major feared the conspirators would either flee or kill more people.

  “Ramona?” Pia said for the third time. “She provides a connection to criminals, but with Lena? Walter said the male was slightly built and the woman was pretty. Ramona could play either role but not both. And even at a distance, Lena Marot wouldn’t have been Walter’s idea of pretty.”

  “Why not?” the Major said. “Conor said Elgin Thomas liked opera. Lena is a big supporter of the opera. Calixthe knew her way around Vienna. She didn’t hesitate when you moved the meeting to the Radisson.”

  “We know Lena is a racist. She’d never get into a criminal enterprise with Calixthe.”

  “Can’t argue that one,” the Major said. “As much as I’d like it to be Lena, she has no motive and no capability. But Ramona fits.”

  “Sideways. From your description, I don’t think she’s smart enough.”

  “There’s that.”

  “What are we missing?” Pia asked.

  “Lieutenant Berardi researched the police reports. There were some discrepancie
s that didn’t match the evidence. Like the shooting at the bridge was reported as we fired bullets at the assassins. A simple mistake that might be setting us up. I still think we need to consider your boyfriend. Conor said the real Elgin Thomas met morally impaired soldiers through NATO.”

  “It’s not him.” Pia sat up, looked two rows away where Alphonse stood in the aisle, talking to Tania. “Calixthe intended to kill me tonight. Alphonse passed up several opportunities. He refused a gun. He refused his freedom. He’s not interested in killing me.”

  “Pia, if you think someone’s framing him, tell me who and why?”

  “When the press asked us questions before a big game, we’d have a plan for handling them, a scripted set of responses. Same for the other side. When I wanted to learn about game plans, I’d listen to the odd things my opponents said in the hallways or cafeterias. Things that didn’t fit the rehearsed version. What did people say that was off topic?”

  “What do you mean?” the Major said. “Give me an example.”

  “Something Janko said struck me as odd,” Pia said. “Chain of custody. At the time, it was out of place, a stupid thing to say. Everyone says stupid things now and then. But overall, the police aren’t stupid. Chain of custody. Stuck out in my mind, I don’t know why yet.”

  “Bachmann’s charity was odd. Long way to go for charity. And Ramona admitted targeting mature wealth for her next conquest.” The Major repeated the interview. “Antje knows banking, shipping, and Cameroon. But she doesn’t feel like a murderer. She doesn’t have that cold edge. Then there’s Joey Campbell. I had the feeling he would kill to get back to New York, but that’d be a stretch.”

  The jet came in for the landing, bounced on the runway twice, and taxied to the executive terminal.

  “Let’s look at this from a different angle,” Pia said. “Where would Calixthe have met someone in the banking industry? Hey, wait a minute. Alphonse said she stalked him.”

  The jet rolled to a stop. A lone Volkswagen Passat waited outside. Pia squinted at it. She lowered her phone to her chest and yelled at her pilot. He reported the limo drivers were unavailable since word got out that someone was trying to kill her. She’d have to do her own driving.

  Alphonse said, “I can drive you around before I go back to Chamonix.”

  “That’s OK, I like to drive now and then. But you could keep me company.”

  Pia stared at him. Her eyes narrowed as she thought. He raised his brows. She pulled her phone to her ear slowly before speaking rapidly. She said, “I figured it out—well, half of it anyway. I’ll join you when you report to Villeneuve on progress. I have to make a stop first.”

  She clicked off as she heard the Major ask, “Wait, figured out what?”

  Chapter 40

  * * *

  Geneva, Switzerland

  28-May, 9:30AM

  Klaus opened the back door to the rental car and lifted Tania in.

  “Sorry, Tania, you and Klaus are going to the hotel,” Pia said. “I’m in a hurry here.”

  “No way. I’m your bodyguard and I’m on duty.”

  Alphonse and Pia craned around the headrests to stare at her. Pink elastic circled her leg, holding in several pounds of gauze.

  Her quad flexed as she climbed in the backseat. She howled in pain.

  “Damn,” she said. “Klaus gave me Novocaine. Guess it hasn’t kicked in yet.”

  “Forget it,” Pia said. “You’re going to the hotel. You need some rest.”

  “GTFO, Pia.”

  “I’ll get you another big fluffy hotel suite.”

  “No way, Pia. You get killed, how am I going to pay for the suite?”

  Alphonse said, “You are the sugar mama, nothing more.”

  Pia slugged him lightly. “Yeah, like Lena Marot. Let’s go find the bad guys.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Tania said. “I’m going to make them answer for Ezra.”

  “You’re waiting in the car,” Pia said. “Crutches make for a slow getaway.”

  Alphonse said, “Do not worry. I will be the bodyguard today.”

  “You’re supposed to be back in Chamonix,” Pia said.

  “I would choose to be with you.”

  Pia stared at him a beat.

  Alphonse said, “That is, if you trust me.”

  Pia leaned over the console and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled.

  She sent Klaus to the hotel with the pilots and drove off.

  Pia said, “Tania, get the Major on the phone.”

  She drove out of the airport and headed into downtown Geneva. They drove through the residential district to Avenue de France, across the railroad yard, and onto the waterfront boulevards. Pia slowed as they passed the Genève-Pâquis landing, the small park where Clément Marot died a week earlier. She pulled over, parked along the road, and stared at the park. It looked different in the daylight with tourists milling about, but her mind replayed the scene. Mustafa was in cuffs and yet looked calm, as if he knew he would escape.

  “They don’t answer,” Tania said. “Can’t get the Major or Miguel.”

  “Where are they?”

  “The Major’s on the edge of town near the river. Miguel is at Maison Marot. I texted them both, called and left messages. They must be sneaking up on someone or something.”

  Pia looked at the park again. The Lake Léman’s famous fountain shot high in the sky leaving rainbows in its mists. Serene and peaceful in the sun, the park looked like the postcards. She said, “I know who it is.”

  In unison, Tania and Alphonse said, “Who?”

  Pia looked at Alphonse. “Call Capitaine Villeneuve.”

  “And tell her?”

  “She’s not going to answer.”

  Alphonse looked confused but dialed. It rang for a long time. He said, “You are right. She does not answer.”

  “She’s the one, Alphonse. Le Capitaine is le Directeur.”

  “This is not possible. She is the professional—”

  “Chain of custody, I finally figured out why that’s been sticking in my head. The first night, when it all began, she had her purse on her shoulder when she put Mustafa, al-Jabal, in the police car. Duchamps should have belted him in. But she did it because she had nail clippers, Alphonse. Remember the curved slice in the plasticuffs? She freed his hands with nail clippers. The kind lots of women carry in their purses. She clipped the cuffs and Mustafa knocked out Duchamps as soon as he went around the corner.”

  “Anyone could have—”

  “No. I tackled him, I searched him, and Marty cuffed him. Villeneuve led him to the car and put him in it. Chain of custody. He didn’t have nail clippers when I searched him. Marty held him until Villeneuve led him to the car. She had Duchamps start the car while she put Mustafa in the back. No one thought anything of it because she was in charge. You thought she was taking the case personally.”

  “Oui.” His head nodded rhythmically. “But this is not proof.”

  “You left me standing on the bridge and a couple minutes later Mustafa showed up. The only people who knew I was there: you, and my bodyguards. You’re a good officer, you report everything up your chain of command. You told Villeneuve and she sent Mustafa. I told you I was going to Cameroon and Mustafa set a trap for me the next day.”

  Alphonse stared at her.

  “All the victims opened their doors,” she said. “Eren and Reto were in their bank but they came outside. Someone called them first and said, I’m out front, meet me. Why else would they walk out after two friends were killed? And Sara Campbell, murdered in her doorway. Who would she open it for?”

  He shrugged. “Lena Marot, Antje, Ramona.”

  “Or?”

  “Or Capitaine Villeneuve.” A snort of disgust escaped him as he turned to the window. “Oui. We knew it was someone close, but…. Le Capitaine?”

  “And the Major and Miguel are giving her their report about now. I never told them she was dangerous. I screwed up. Now she has at least one of them.”


  “God. Dammit!” Tania pounded the door. “Get me there. I’ll kill that bitch!”

  Pia clenched her hands around the steering wheel and breathed through her nose. Alphonse and Tania watched her. With one deep breath, she pulled herself together, set her eyes on the road, and put the car in gear.

  She said, “Which one is closest, the Major or Miguel?”

  Chapter 41

  * * *

  28-May, 10AM

  Tania leaned between the seats, held her phone’s map out for Pia. Maison Marot was only six blocks away. As much as Pia wanted to get the Major, Miguel was closer and could be a valuable asset in locating Villeneuve.

  Alphonse tried calling police officers at the gendarmerie and got voicemail every time. Everyone knew he’d been sent home, making his calls low priority. After leaving four messages, he gave up. He suggested they try calling le Directeur on the phone Pia confiscated from Calixthe.

  Gravel crunched under the tires as they rolled down the estate driveway five minutes later. Marot’s staff would be more difficult to push around than Ramona’s doorman. Nothing clever came to mind, so Pia decided to elbow her way through. She trotted up to the door, Alphonse by her side, Tania in the car, and rang the bell. While she waited, she took Alphonse’s advice and called from Calixthe’s phone. The only number in the contact list was for le Directeur.

  The butler opened the front door and they stepped into the foyer. On the right, a staircase swept upwards. In front of them was a small sitting room, to the left a dark hallway disappeared into the mansion’s depths. The butler asked them to wait in the foyer while he checked on Mme. Marot’s availability.

  Seconds after he left, Philippe Marot, his short, slim frame trying hard to look threatening, rushed down the hall. He wore a yellow knit shirt with a red cross. Noticeable for the bad color combination.