The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1) (26 page)

Thorne spent the night in the hotel, and the following morning he placed the necklace packet into a slot in the laptop case and double-zipped the compartment shut. He checked the clip in the Glock before putting it in his shoulder holster.

            The Peugeot waiting across the road at the rear of a restaurant, pulled out and followed him as he drove the Land Rover out onto the roadway.

A kilometer back down the roadway, the van spent the night parked off the shoulder of the roadway. Kelly was awakened by Forestal. “Let’s go, he’s up and moving.” Forestal said wearily, “I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my entire life. I need a bed and a bath. Try to keep close contact. We don’t want to depend fully on that second transmitter. In fact, we agreed to get rid of this van.. Did you do what we discussed last night?”

            “Don’t worry,” Kelly said. “Like I said, I’ve already taken care of it. I called my contact last night and he gave me the name of a driver in Paris. Her name is Nan D’Autry. She’s a young bird, but a first class driver. Speaks a little English and knows Paris like the back of her hand. From what I hear, she’s worked on a lot of high-profile jobs around Paris, but she’s clean, never done time, never even been charged.”

            “Wait a minute. We don’t want anyone involved with—”

            “No—no—like I just said, she doesn’t have a record. She’s just a driver. I called and offered her ten-thousand Euros as we discussed. She’ll be meeting us with a white Volvo SUV at the large Horvalt Elf petrol station. The station is just before we get to Boulevard Périphérique.

            “She’s a tall redhead, and she’ll be wearing a red jacket. She’ll be a great help, even though she’s expensive, but we need a new vehicle—so—”

            Forestal said, “Well, maybe you’re right. We’re both easily recognizable to Thorne.”

            Kelly said. “I’ll just pull up the map on the Paris screen, and we’ll always have a fifteen kilometer range on the receiver, so, it shouldn’t be hard to keep track of the Land Rover.”

            When the van reached the Elf station, a new white Volvo SUV was parked by the side of the building. A tall red-head in a short Bolero-style red leather jacket leaned against the driver’s door, smoking a cigarette. She had a thin, angular build, and was just under six feet tall. A black beret covered the top of the shoulder-length red hair. Her heavy-lidded, large green eyes were set in a long hard face. She had smooth, easy movements and was attractive in an exotic sort of way.

            Kelly parked next to the Volvo, and both men quickly moved the receiver and their bags from the van to the SUV. D’Autry crushed out the cigarette with the heel of her boot and climbed in behind the wheel.

            Kelly was sitting in the front seat with her, holding the receiver. “We’re following a dark green Land Rover with GB plates. We don’t have a clue what he’s got in mind. All we know is we have him on our GPS receiver, and the map here on the screen will tell us where he is. I’ll just have to tell you as we go, okay? We had better be on our way, we only have a fifteen kilometer range.”

            She turned to Kelly and said in English with a French accent, “Last night you said you would pay to me ten-thousand Euros. I like to have the half now.” Forestal handed a sheaf of bills over D’Autry’s shoulder.  She examined the bills before putting them in the inside pockets of her jacket. “We are fine. I am ready. Now, where do we go?” she asked as she turned on the ignition.

Chapter 60

Thorne continued through the outskirts of Paris before pulling into a hotel parking lot. He waited in a far corner to see if he was being followed. Two cars pulled into the lot in the next five minutes, a silver Citroën with two women passengers and a black Renault with a family of five. With a sigh he put the Land Rover into gear, and worked his way back onto the road that would eventually put him into the center of Paris. As he inched along he began to wonder if his paranoia at being followed had been justified. He hadn’t seen the van, nor been able to determine whether he was being followed by any other vehicles.

The brown Peugeot followed at a safe distance. The driver spoke to the two passengers in English before flipping open a cell phone and speaking in French, “This is Inspector Andre’ Trudeau, of Europol, Code RT365. It is nine-twenty AM. Our man has just crossed Boulevard Périphérique and is driving south in a dark green Land Rover. British license plate number GB BDC545 STMB. If our information is correct, he plans to turn onto Rue La Fayette and go to the Stockton-Rohmer studio on 1534A Rue de Château dun. Notify INTERPOL and Europol headquarters in Lyon and Paris to keep in close contact with Monsieur Jacques Cravelle of INTERPOL at Stockton-Rohmer. We are following him by sight only and we are driving a brown Peugeot sedan with the standard sticker in the windows. Do not detain Thorne at this time. We want to follow him to his next stop after he leaves the studio. He is traveling under the name David Riley.”

Thorne followed his map to the address on Rue de Château dun given him by Stockton and parked a block away. He waited and looked behind him to see if he’d been followed. The Peugeot had turned off the main road and came in from a different direction, parking on a side street with a view of the studio. He walked a block to the studio that bore the letters STOCKTON-ROHMER, REPRODUCTION PHOTOGRAPHIQUE, PASSEPORT on the window

Forestal monitored Thorne’s route and directed D’Autry to park the Volvo SUV two blocks back on Rue de Château dun. They waited, keeping the Land Rover’s location in sight as well as on the screen of the receiver.

            “Now what?” she asked

            “Let’s hold here for just a bit,” Forestal said. “Let’s see what he’s going to do. None of us can follow him into the shop. He’d recognize any one of us except you, and you have to drive.” He paused to think and then said, “Okay, once he’s inside, drive by and let’s get a name and address of the shop.”

            The Volvo slowed as it passed the shop. “I know those people,” Kelly said. “Dassin Stockton has his operation in London. Furnishes phony passports and other types of identification. Rohmer’s his Paris partner. Thorne’s probably getting the name of a fence name from Rohmer.”

            Forestal said “Drive around the block and park on a side street. Kelly, you go into the shop and talk to Rohmer after Thorne comes out. Convince Rohmer to tell you where he sent Thorne. Rohmer’s in the same business as Stockton, so it’s fairly certain he speaks English. We’ll follow the Land Rover when he comes out. You can relay the information to us on your cell phone—that is if you can convince him where he sent Thorne. We’ll pick you up later “

            Kelly gave a yellow-toothed grin at the prospect. “Don’t worry, I’ll convince him.”

Inside the shop, Thorne approached the older man sitting at a desk behind a low rail. “Is Monsieur Rohmer in?”

            The dour old man replied in broken English, “For what you want to see him?”

            “I was sent by Mr. Stockton in London. Monsieur Rohmer is expecting me. My name is David Riley.”

            The man picked up a phone, pushed a button and spoke in French.

            As he waited, Thorne looked around the reception room. It wasn’t much different from Stockton’s office, with numerous pictures of wedding pictures and family groups covering the walls. The main difference was the old sourpuss at the front desk. He was no Adele.

            A small, compact man in a white shirt and conservative tie emerged from a hallway and extended his hand. “Good morning, Mr. Riley, I am Marcel Rohmer. Dassin said you would be coming.”

            His English was precise with just a hint of a French accent. “Please come on back.” Thorne followed him to his office and was directed to a chair facing the desk. “Dassin tells me you need a contact who deals in gold coins, antique jewelry and crystal.”

            “Yes.”

            “I have an excellent contact that may be of assistance. He is very discreet and can handle large transactions. How large of a transaction were you thinking of?”

            “Perhaps I should discuss that with him,” Thorne said. “I can tell you it’ll be well over seven figures—in pounds.”

            The man across the desk shrugged. “His name is Henri Delain, and he does speak English.” He wrote the address and phone number on a slip of paper and pushed it across the desk. “I will call and tell him you will be in contact. His office is near Place de la Concorde, close by the east end termination of the Champs-Elysées. Unless you are familiar with Paris, I suggest you avoid Place de la Concorde. It can be quite congested at times. Many Parisians think of it as a race track.”

            Thorne looked at the address on the slip of paper handed him. “Which side of the river is this?”

            “Rive Gauche, the Left Bank—on Boulevard Saint-Germaine.  I’m sure Dassin told you we prefer not to have our names revealed to anyone other than the contact. Dassin has already told me you have paid him in full.” He stood, went to the door and held it open. “Our business is done here. Remember you were never here.”

            Back on the street, Thorne looked around and made a mental note of the cars in hopes of noticing those that might start up when he drove off. He started the Land Rover and eased slowly into the traffic. He saw no one following as he made his way to Place de la Concorde..

Rohmer dialed his cell phone and said, “Officer Trudeau, this is Cravelle with INTERPOL. Riley just left my office. I have directed him to Henri Delain on Boulevard Saint-Germaine. You have Delain’s address so stay with him and I’ll alert your Lyon and Paris offices. I will meet you on the street in front of Delain’s office building and we can wait there. I will be in a black Renault with the standard insignia on the rear window.”

            Trudeau turned to the other passengers in the car. “He is moving. We are getting close to wrapping this thing up. It looks like we will get all our targets.” He put the Peugeot into gear and moved closer as he followed the Land Rover.

Chapter 61

After Thorne left the studio , the Volvo dropped Kelly off and followed the Land Rover. Inside the shop, Kelly received the same unfriendly welcome Thorne had received from the sour old man. Kelly asked to speak with Rohmer, and when Cravelle appeared, Kelly said, “I’m from London. Mr. Stockton’s office in London sent me. Is there an office where we can speak in private?”

            Cravelle directed him to his office, and after he closed the door behind them said, “What can I do for you, Sir?”

            “I’m certain you can do a lot for me, Mr. Rohmer, it appears you had another gentleman just here, and you directed him to another fence. I assume that since you’re in the same business as Mr. Stockton, you don’t deal in things that the gentleman wanted. Am I right?”

            Without waiting for a reply, Kelly said, “Of course I’m right. Now, I know you have names of people who deal in various things for sale. What I need is the address and name of the man you sent that last man to. Of course, I prefer you give it to me without any problems for yourself

—if you know what I mean.”

            Kelly leaned back, smiled broadly and waited.

            A slight smile appeared on the face of Cravelle. “Excuse me, Sir,” he said and reached over and pressed the button on the phone three times. Turning back to Kelly, he said slowly, “Of course you must know I cannot do anything for you. I have no idea what you are talking about. Now if you will just—”

            Kelly stood, a contorted grin on his red face, and rotated his shoulders back and forth. “Oh, I think you know what I’m talking about. Now, it looks like you need a bit of convincing.”

            He started around the desk and was interrupted as the door opened and Sour Puss stood in the doorway. His left hand was palm up at his waist, the butt of an automatic pistol resting comfortably in it as his right hand held it steady.

            “Please to put hands on table,” he said with authority. A tall burly man stood silently behind him. Sour Puss moved to a far wall and flipped the barrel of the pistol up sharply. “Now, hands above head,” he said, and the tall burly man went through his pockets. Both men followed him out of the office and down the narrow hall to a storeroom.

            After Kelly had been removed, Cravelle picked up the phone and dialed a number. “This is Officer Cravelle. Have the Paris office send the Renault and two agents over for me as soon as possible, and notify Lyon to call INTERPOL’s Paris office and clear this with the police. Contact Officer Trudeau of Europol and tell him we have one of the people who was following David Thorne. Thorne is now traveling under the name David Riley. I sent him to the office of Henri Delain on Saint-Germain and we will follow him there.

            “We will keep Kelly here for a short time and then allow him to escape on his way to the police station. Otherwise, our operation here could be compromised. The information that I am not Rohmer may get back to Stockton. In the future, we will need Stockton to think Rohmer is still working with him and running things here.

            “I will meet Trudeau at Delain’s address. However, I do not think Delain can handle a transaction this large so he will probably broker the deal and find another fence, hopefully the man we have been looking for. Make sure no one apprehends  Delain and Thorne, but keep them under close surveillance. I think they will lead us to our man.

Chapter 62

Thorne looked at the map and decided he had no choice but to go through Place de la Concorde. He had been lost on earlier visits in Paris while trying shortcuts on winding streets with obscure names. At least on the busy Place de la Concorde he would know where he was. As he entered the large oval, he realized what Rohmer had said about Parisians thinking of Place de la Concorde as a racetrack. The pre-Christmas traffic only intensified the experience.