Obsession (Year of Fire) (55 page)

“Blahetter’s wife, the one that had the key.”

“Yes, that same one. I need to know everything about her. You’ve found out that she’s Blahetter’s wife. Now I want more information.”

“Sir, you just told me that my priority is to locate Blahetter again.”

Gérard suffered an instant of confusion and then shame. His memory was starting to fail him, his thoughts were getting jumbled. Sometimes he would catch himself in the middle of doing something stupid, like putting toothpaste in the bath instead of bath salts. The porphyria was advancing, and it didn’t look as though the cure was close at hand. His anger disguised his embarrassment.

“The fact that I gave you priorities doesn’t mean that I can’t tell you
everything
that needs doing!”

“Of course, sir. I apologize.”

“Find Blahetter, don’t forget that we lost him due to your incompetence.
Then
investigate the girl.”

Gérard went up to the roof of his house on Quai de Béthune. He found young Antoine feeding the pigeons. They all looked healthy and beautiful. He surveyed Al-Muzara’s stock and found a pigeon that inspired special affection in him.

“Antoine, get Aladdin ready. The release will be in three hours.”

He went back to the study to write the coded message in which he confirmed that Udo Jürkens would lead the attack against OPEC.

This time Al-Saud had no problem getting into room 304 at the Hospital Européen Georges Pompidou. A fleeting glance at Blahetter was enough to see that he was depressed. Ezequiel had probably already told him about the disappearance of the key.

“Tomorrow you’ll have the documentation you asked for,” Roy said, his head still on the pillow, not making eye contact with Al-Saud. “The contact at my grandfather’s company got everything in less time than expected. He’ll overnight them today through Federal Express.”

“Piece of shit,” Eliah spat, and Blahetter whipped his head around. “I want you to tell me right now what mess you’ve gotten Matilde into. You must have already heard from your brother that four men attacked her yesterday to get the key that you gave her. And today we found the lock to her aunt’s apartment destroyed. The portrait of Matilde as a little girl was torn up.”

Blahetter slowly let his eyelids droop shut and let out an anguished moan.

“I’m sorry,” he said, without opening his eyes. “I’m so sorry. It seems as though I always do everything wrong.”

“To hell with your excuses! I want you to tell me what’s going on. I need to know what I’m facing so I can protect her. You’re in this state because of the key, aren’t you, and you told them that Matilde had it?”

“None of it matters anymore. They’re not going to bother her again. They have what they want.”

“And what do they want? Who are these people?”

“That doesn’t matter to you, Al-Saud.”

“It matters because my woman is at risk.”

“I promise you that Matilde is not at risk anymore. They won’t bother her again.”

“Fucking son of a bitch! If something happens to Matilde because of you, I’ll come back to this hospital and kill you right here in this bed. I’ll have no pity for the state you’re in.”

“Don’t worry, Al-Saud. If something happened to Matilde because of me, I would put a bullet in my head. Don’t think you’re the only one that loves her. No one loves her like I do. And when I gave her that key, I did it for her, to protect her, so that she would never lack for anything in case I died.”

“Matilde is never going to lack for anything because I’ll make sure she has everything. She’s
mine
now,” he growled, “and I don’t want you coming near her. And don’t send anyone to ask her to come visit you. You’ve been warned.” Still worked up, he continued, “I’ll be back tomorrow with the money. If the documents you have are satisfactory, I’ll give it to you.”

He entered the suite at the George V still driven by the rage that Blahetter had awoken in him.

“Thérèse, in my office, now!” he shouted.

The woman scurried after him with a notebook and pen in one hand and a bag from Emporio Armani in the other.

“I see you got the coat for Matilde,” he commented more calmly. “Put it here, Thérèse, please. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“Thérèse, please take care of getting this frame fixed.” He gestured to the painting of Matilde as a girl, which he had propped against the wall, next to the door. “Take it to Monsieur Lafére. He’s the only one I trust. Get in touch with my sister. I want to have lunch with her today in the George V restaurant. Tell her no excuses. Tell Diana and Sándor to come this afternoon around four. Now put me in touch with my lawyer, Dr. Lafrange, and then Peter Ramsay. Any calls?”

Thérèse gave him his messages and reminded him that he had a meeting at three with the lawyers representing Mercure Inc. and Shaul Zeevi to finish drawing up the clauses of the contract. The Israeli had agreed to the plan of action for the Congo without questioning the inflated sum Mercure Inc. was demanding in payment. He put his lawyer, Dr. Lafrange, in charge of the three Iraqis retained at Quai des Orfèvres. He wanted them on the streets as soon as possible so that they could be followed.

The rest of the day turned into a succession of troubleshooting and putting out fires, like the one lit by the call from the president of Liberia, Charles Taylor, whose physical well-being and that of his family were the responsibility of Mercure. He was a hypocritical, cruel ruler and was difficult to deal with, but paid well for their services, and Mercure didn’t have the luxury of passing up such a lucrative job. Taylor was enraged with one of his bodyguards for having sex with his niece, and was threatening to have him executed. The gravity of the situation almost made Al-Saud rush to Le Bourget Airport on his way to Monrovia. However, Tony Hill, who had closed the deal with President Taylor, took responsibility for saving the Mercure employee’s hide and flew out on the Gulfstream V instead.

The lunch with Yasmín hadn’t been easy either. His sister had changed her mind about wanting to get rid of Sándor.

“You’re impossible, Yasmín! You’ve been bugging me about how you can’t stand Sándor, and now that I indulge you, you come to me saying that you want him to stay.”

“I’ve gotten used to the idea of him being with me. If you change him, I’ll have to get used to a new one.”

“Well, that’s how it’s going to be! Sándor is leaving your service and will be guarding Matilde.”

“Matilde?” Yasmín was piqued.

“Do you have something against my woman?”

“Your woman?” Yasmín’s expression turned from anger to shock. “You’re calling her ‘your woman’? I think I’m jealous,” she admitted after a silence, though she didn’t know who the jealousy was directed at, her brother or her bodyguard, who would be spending all day with Eliah’s beautiful girlfriend. “Forgive me,” she said, and squeezed his hand. “I’m just thinking about Samara…”

“Shut up,” Al-Saud murmured through gritted teeth, yanking his hand away. “How much longer will I have to pay for her death? Don’t I have the right to be happy?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. You know that I loved her like a sister, that’s why…forget it. What I said was nonsense. I’m happy for you. Matilde is very sweet and seems to have a good heart. And you seem so in love with her. I have to admit that I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’ve never seen myself like this,” Al-Saud agreed.

During the meeting with the lawyers from Mercure Inc. and the Israeli businessman, a few problems arose that would require new calculations on the part of Al-Saud and his partners. This would delay the signature, and thus the down payment. Absolute detail was needed; it included important, specific data such as the number of mercenaries involved and other less obvious but equally relevant information like the number of liters of mineral water that would have to be supplied.

Before the meeting with the Huseinovic siblings at four thirty, he called Matilde. There was a slight delay before she picked up the phone and he suffered a moment of fear; he was worried they had disobeyed his order and gone to the institute. When he heard Matilde’s “Hello?” blood started pumping through his heart again.

“What took you so long to answer?” he asked grumpily.

“Because we all had our hands full. Hello, Eliah,” she said pointedly. “How are you?”

“Hello, my love. Forgive me. For a moment I thought you had gone to the institute.”

“We agreed that we wouldn’t go. I keep my promises, Eliah. Do you?”

He hadn’t always kept them. He had promised Samara fidelity, and he had never been faithful to her. Why was the idea of betraying Matilde so intolerable to him?

“I do too.”

“Are you going to come for dinner?”

“Yes. And I’m sorry, but my brother, Mike and Peter are coming too.”

“We’ll expect them.”

Diana and Sándor didn’t like the idea of guarding Matilde, each for their own reasons. Diana protested that she would prefer riskier missions, like the one with Bouchiki in Cairo, that being a bodyguard wasn’t a challenge for her anymore and that she wanted to go back to Fergusson Island to finish her training. Sándor, for his part, didn’t offer any arguments to justify his surliness and just said, “If that’s what you want, Eliah.”

“Shit!” Al-Saud exploded, jumping up from his chair. “I’m putting what I treasure the most in the hands of the people I trust the most, and they’re both turning their backs on me.”

The Huseinovics’ attitudes were transformed as if by magic, and both started stammering apologies. The only question Sándor had was, “Who will protect Miss Yasmín in my place?”

Before he said good-bye to the Huseinovics, Al-Saud, still on his feet, declared, “You’ll be in charge of the protection of the only person who has heard Leila’s voice in years.”

“What are you talking about, Eliah?” Diana came back toward him.

“This morning, Leila went to wake Matilde up. She called her by her name and then said, ‘
Bonjour
, Matilde.’”

“Thank God!” Sándor cried in Bosnian.

“Why her?” Diana asked, unable to hide her jealousy.

“I don’t know,” Al-Saud admitted. “Right from the beginning, Leila has felt very drawn to Matilde.”

“What if it isn’t true?” Diana said, mistrustfully.

“Shouldn’t we consult Leila’s psychiatrist?” Sándor wondered. “Maybe Miss Matilde would agree to go with her.”

“We’ll see,” Al-Saud said, and before Diana had left his office, he took her by the arm and drew her closer. “If your attitude toward Matilde is going to continue as it is now, I don’t want you as her bodyguard. Decide now. If you think you can’t undertake the assignment, I’ll find someone else.”

“Forgive me, Eliah. I was rude and acted like a jealous little girl. It will be an honor to take care of your woman.”

To top off a day plagued with problems and arguments, there was a call from Olivier Dussollier, which he took in the Aston Martin on his way home. The inspector had taken it upon himself to inform him that, thanks to his intervention, ballistics had worked hard to hand in the report sooner than usual. The words that followed alarmed Al-Saud.

“The comparative tests show that the bullet had a hollow point, like dumdum bullets.”

It could be a coincidence
, he tried to convince himself. Still, the rational part of his mind told him that there was something murky going on. dumdum bullets were used pretty rarely; both victims, the bellboy and the Iraqi, had holes in the right eye; the deaths had all the hallmarks of having been carried out by a trained assassin. How was the attack on the George V related to the attack on Matilde? Could it be the same hit man hired by different people?

“Thank you, Olivier. I really appreciate your help. If anything else comes up, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

When he got home, followed by Alamán, Mike and Peter, he found Matilde and Leila, greatly amused, making a new dish for the Bosnian girl:
milanesas
, breaded veal cutlets. Matilde seemed relaxed, without a trace of her anxiety from the night before. Juana, with her elbows propped on the black marble of the island, was talking intimately into the telephone.

“She’s talking to Shiloah,” Matilde said. “The conversation has gone on for over an hour,” she added.

“The men and I have to take of a few things for Mercure before we eat. How much time do we have?”

“As much as you need. Let me know when you’re almost done, and Leila and I will have dinner ready. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m looking at you because you’re beautiful. I’ll let you know when we’re almost finished.”

“Eliah.” She stopped him.

“Yes?”

“Did they fix the lock at my aunt’s house? I didn’t want to…”

“Everything is fixed. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you. Tell me how much I owe you.”

Al-Saud rolled his eyes before leaving the kitchen without answering.

Peter and Alamán had isolated the part of the recording captured by the cameras planted in the apartment on Rue Toullier between the hours Eliah had indicated, and prepared it for analysis at the base. As they went down the three floors in the elevator, Al-Saud considered the prospect that sooner or later Matilde would find the door and would ask him where it led. He pushed it to the back of his mind. He would worry about it later.

Masséna saw them come in and wondered why they were locking themselves in the projection room. Alamán took charge of the projector. The recording had been filmed by a camera installed in the dining room. Though it was dark, the image was pretty well defined, as the camera used night-vision technology and a light enhancer, although it still had a greenish tint and there were sections of darkness.

They fast-forwarded through the first few minutes until a flash appeared: the burst of the silent explosive. The entry had occurred at 11:40 at night. Seconds later, a man with a tall, powerful build appeared. He was dressed in a black jumpsuit. Eliah stood up to get closer to the screen, suddenly feeling uneasy. He noticed that the intruder wore a helmet with a night-vision mono-goggle. This confirmed his suspicions that they were dealing with a professional—not everyone had three-thousand-dollar night-vision equipment handy.