The Flinck Connection (Book 4) (Genevieve Lenard) (15 page)

Colin’s movements mimicked those of the GIPN officers when they approached a building or room with stealth. He was light on his feet, careful where he stepped and what sound he made. Dukwicz had to have exceptional hearing to have heard Colin’s entrance to the house.

To push away the black panic threatening to overwhelm me, I reminded myself that Colin was sitting next to me, unharmed. I watched as he took a few steps into the room, his eyes roving around as if sweeping the room for a safety overview. He was standing at an angle that afforded me a good enough view of his features. The moment he noticed Minister Savreux lying on the ground, the
procerus
muscle drew his eyebrows down and together. He looked around again, I supposed to ensure the killer was not in the room, and took a step closer. The wince marring his features told me he had seen the excessive stabbing and must have come to the conclusion Minister Savreux was dead.

He took his phone from his coat pocket, swiped the screen a few times and put the device to his ear. Not once did he take his eyes off the dead body on the floor.

“Jenny, you need—”

We listened to the short conversation he’d had with me, the horror of who was behind the curtains bringing the panic back to my peripheral view. I was clutching Colin’s hand with both of mine, watching as, onscreen, he put the phone back in his pocket. With even more care and stealth, he left the room, not sparing another glance at the walls or display shelves. He disappeared out of view. A minute later, the curtain moved ever so slightly before it settled again. I paused the video.

“He must have left through a window or door behind those curtains.” Colin’s voice was rougher than usual. Strong emotions affected the muscles around our throat, resulting in a change of breathing, but also in more tension on the vocal cords.

“Dude, that was fucked-up.” Vinnie put his bowl of popcorn on the table. He had stopped eating the moment Colin had entered the room on-screen. No one was eating any more. I looked more closely and saw that everyone had lost some colour in their faces. I’m sure my expression mirrored those I was looking at.

“That was a close call.” Francine rubbed the space just under her throat, the suprasternal notch. “Too close, Colin. This was too close.”

“Before you all pile onto me about this, I know that this was too close for comfort.” Colin folded his arms, blocking further discussion. “Okay, so what did we learn from this video?”

“Dukwicz is a sick fuck.” Vinnie leaned back in his chair, the
levator labii superioris
muscle pulling his top lip up.

Manny huffed, ignored Vinnie and started counting on his fingers. “We know that the Boston Flinck was there before Colin went in. That means the direct message Nikki received had been correct.”

“But where is that Flinck now?” Colin asked. “I don’t think it is in Savreux’s wine cellar like Jenny thought. I’m willing to bet that the person who ordered Savreux’s murder is now looking at it and gloating.”

“Are we even sure it is the original?” I asked.

“There’s no way to be sure, Jenny. Not without looking at it up close.”

“I’m still counting here.” Manny shook his raised index finger. “We can worry about authenticity later. What else do we know? We know that Dukwicz killed Savreux, but didn’t kill Frey.”

“Why not?” I asked. Francine looked at me with horror in every muscle on her face. “I’m trying to ask rational questions here.”

“Doc is right. Why didn’t Dukwicz kill Frey?”

“I would venture that he is not the type of personality to commit a crime of opportunity. This would’ve been too easy for him.” I tightened my hold on Colin’s hand. “From what he said, he enjoys the hunt, the planning, executing the plan. I don’t think he would kill in a rage or just because the opportunity presents itself.”

“What do you call the stabbing then?” Francine asked.

“Strategic.” I shrugged when she raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t watch the stabbing too closely, but the body language I saw indicated that he enjoyed the garrotting much more than the stabbing.”

“He could’ve done the stabbing to throw us off,” Manny said. “Crazy overkill like that usually comes from a crime of passion. Someone with a lot of pent-up rage against the victim. That would’ve kept us looking for someone in Savreux’s closer circles—someone Savreux might have wronged in some way.”

“And Dukwicz never kills for himself. He kills for money.” Colin sounded more like himself now. “Whoever had ordered this hit might have also requested him to set up the crime scene like this.”

“Which brings us to the next question. Who ordered this hit?”

“And why did they want Minister Savreux dead?” I didn’t know if my question was more important than Manny’s. “Is this also connected to Gabon? To the Libreville Dignity Foundation? How is any of this connected to the President? To his wife?”

“For the love of Pete, stop.” Manny lifted both hands, palms up. “It’s not like we don’t have enough questions already. Why don’t we stick to what we do have?”

“We know that the person sending Nikki direct messages believes we have limited time. What we don’t know is what this deadline entails.” I sighed. “What we don’t know is a lot more than what we do know.”

“Then it’s time we find out more so we can answer all our questions. Doc, will you go through these videos and see if there is something that could help us? I will get this bunch to help me look into the Boston heist.”

“You plan to solve that, Millard?” Colin laughed softly. “It’s become the Holy Grail to some of the best detectives, but they’ve never solved it.”

“Well, they’re not me.” Manny stood up. “And they didn’t have you. Doc, are you okay with watching this?”

I thought about it and nodded. “As long as Savreux didn’t kill anyone in his home office, I think I will be able to watch the footage.”

I watched as yet another politician waited on the sofa in Minister Savreux’s office. For the last two days, I had been alternating watching the footage with analysing all the other data. The footage was organised in reverse chronological order, from the most recent date to the earliest. The event on the monitor had taken place two weeks ago. In the two weeks after this, Minister Savreux had ushered eighteen different middle-aged men into his office. Every time he would prepare them a drink and tell them to wait. A few minutes later, a woman would enter. It was never the same woman.

The man currently on the monitor in my viewing room sat up when an overweight woman entered. At university, I had done a semester in abnormal sexual psychology. Part of the course dealt with fetishes. The extreme differences in the women made me think that Savreux had in some way catered to his peers’ fantasies, providing them with the type of women they desired.

When I had talked about this last night at dinner, Vinnie had called Minister Savreux a pimp. I knew that word and found it a very appropriate description. The overweight woman swayed her ample hips from side to side as she walked to the sofa. Most times their sexual acts were in full view of the camera. Not once did I closely watch any of these men living out their fantasies on that sofa. I had fast-forwarded over those scenes until the women had left and Minister Savreux had entered the room to enquire about his guest’s satisfaction.

It fascinated me—this emotionless, and rather professional, arrangement Minister Savreux had had with these men. Afterwards, they would share a drink and discuss contracts, politics, negotiations and a next fantasy session. Minister Savreux never sat on the sex sofa.

Before Colin, for me sex had been about physical satisfaction. Even then, it had never been emotionless. I had always chosen men I had found reasonably likeable and we’d had some shared interests.

For the last year, I had been sharing my bed with Colin and the experience had taken on a completely different meaning. Involving an emotional connection in something that had been purely physical had changed it from having sex to making love. The intensity of our intimacy had increased significantly. I didn’t think I could go back to having sex merely for a physical release.

How Savreux and these men could use and discard these women without a caring word revealed a lot about their characters. Most of these men I had seen at one or another time on some of the news programmes I favoured. From the little I knew about them, I’d had the impression that they were respected public figures. They presented themselves as family men with high moral and ethical standing on most issues. As I fast-forwarded through another sex scene, I wondered what would happen to these men’s careers were any of these videos ever to be made public. If President Godard’s No Secrets law was passed.

The post-copulating conversation between Savreux and this businessman was inconsequential and I moved to the next clip. It had taken place fifteen days ago at half past four in the afternoon. At this time of the year, the light was already giving way to the winter evening and the room was cast in shadows. Minister Savreux was alone in his office, sitting on the chair facing the door, when a man stepped into the room. Only his leg and foot were within the camera’s viewing range. A subtle change in Savreux’s body language made me narrow my eyes and lean a little closer to the monitors.

“What are you watching?” Colin’s voice right next to my ear caused me to utter a sound closely resembling one of Nikki’s screams when she was watching a horror movie with Vinnie. I placed my hand over my heart, breathed deeply a few times, and glared at Colin as he laughed. “Sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to give you such a big fright.”

I waved my index finger in front of his face. “That is not an expression of contrition.”

He laughed again. “I’m sorry, but it was quite funny to see you jump in your chair.”

“It didn’t feel funny.” I looked at the chair by his desk. “Bring your chair and watch this with me.”

“What are we watching? Another porn tape?” He brought his chair over and sat down.

“You just missed it. This time it was with an overweight woman.”

“Like one of those really huge women?”

“No, I would estimate her to be only around twenty kilograms overweight.”

“So she was plump.”

I thought about this. Body types were difficult to describe accurately. “I would rather say she was voluptuous. Oh, what are we talking about? We’re wasting time.”

“If you say so.” His tone and the relaxed muscles on his face indicated he was teasing me.

“Focus on the work, Colin.” I turned my attention back to the video, which had continued playing. I took it back to a second before the man entered the room. “This is different from the other videos. Minister Savreux never sat in his office and waited for anyone. He met these men somewhere in his house, presumably the front door, and showed them into the room. See how relaxed he is sitting there? Now watch this.”

I clicked on the button to continue playing the video. I slowed it down for my own benefit and saw how the
platysma
muscles in Savreux’s neck tensed, pulling the corners of his mouth even further down. I resumed playing the video at normal speed.

“What are you doing here?” Savreux leaned back in the chair and tried to appear relaxed. “How did you get in?”

The man took a small step into the room until just his left shoulder, arm and hand were visible. If he moved his head, we might be able to see his ear, but not enough of his jaw line to attempt a description.

“I own you, remember? Since I own you, I also own this house.” The man’s voice was thick and nasal as if he had a terrible cold. “Your security is worthless, Savreux. I got in through the garage. You left the garage door unlocked and the door to the house is also not locked. Not very smart when you have your private little parties going on here.”

Savreux blanched. “What private parties?”

“Oh, that’s how you want to play it? Pretend as if you don’t hire your house out as a brothel? You’re an idiot. You better not screw anything up.”

It took Savreux a few seconds to make a decision. When he did, his shoulders moved back and his head lifted. “These parties are my private affairs. You of all people should know how good I am at compartmentalising. This is completely separate from our deal.”

“Is everything in place?” The man’s hand disappeared into his jacket pocket and came out with a handkerchief. He sneezed and blew his nose. “Did you do what I asked?”

“It’s done. I spoke to Motte. He’s ready. I also made a big fuss when a reporter caught me on the street in front of my office. I said that I would not support something that only acts as a witch-hunt, and does nothing to focus on where help is really needed, like in the employment-creation sector or more help with PTSD. You know, the normal political BS.”

“Good. We need to surprise him with the info you have.”

“Oh, he’ll be surprised, all right. It will give me a hard-on to watch him change his tune because he has no other viable option.”

“Don’t gloat, Savreux.” He pushed the handkerchief in his pocket and dropped his hand to his side. “You need to pay attention to what you’re doing and saying. Overconfidence will have you make mistakes and destroy everything we’ve worked on for decades. I won’t tolerate arrogance. Too much is riding on this.”

“Don’t worry. I’m well aware of our desired outcome. But I’ll order champagne all the same.”

The other man didn’t answer, but only stood there and, I assumed, stared at Minister Savreux until he lost his confident posture. His shoulders lowered a few millimetres, his chin also dropping. It was all the mysterious alpha male needed to know he had Minister Savreux’s submission. With a grunt, he turned and left the room, not once revealing his face to the camera.

I clicked on the pause button and stared at my keyboard. My brain was processing the wealth of information it had just absorbed, and I was trying to make sense of it all. Colin sat quietly next to me, most likely also thinking about what we had just witnessed. I closed my eyes and started mentally writing Mozart’s Flute Concerto No. 1 in G Major. I only needed three bars of the Adaggio non troppo before the realisation hit me.

“Oh, my. Oh, my.” I knew my eyes were stretched when I turned to Colin. “Savreux wasn’t the one who put that camera in the clock. It was this man. He put it in. He knew exactly where the angles were and avoided being caught by it. Now it makes more sense. I was wondering why Minister Savreux
would be so foolish to record his illegal conversations and these sex parties when it could incriminate him.”

“And this guy said that he owns Savreux. That is most likely why he put that camera there. To see if Savreux was doing as he was told. He was keeping tabs on him.”

I thought back to the last part of the conversation. “What do you think they were planning to celebrate?”

“I have a theory, but it is speculation.” Colin smiled. “Want to hear it?”

I valued Colin’s insights. When he hypothesised, it was nothing like Francine’s outlandish ideas. “Tell me.”

“I think that those rumours you read were true. It sounds like Savreux was planning to surprise someone with some heavy information. It also sounds like they were hoping it would change that person’s opinion about something. I’m thinking Savreux had real secrets on the president he was going to reveal.”

“Their conversation can definitely be interpreted as such. But it’s still conjecture.” I leaned towards the monitors. “Who is this man? Why did he say he owns Minister Savreux? How can a person own another person if not through slavery?”

“Are you seriously asking this?” Colin frowned.

“Have I ever asked something and wasn’t serious about the answer?”

“True.” He tilted his head and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. Lately, he’d taken to doing that when he was planning how he would explain something to me. “It’s like
guanxi
.”

“The Chinese form of networking?”

“Exactly.”

I knew that this was not pertinent to our discussion, but I simply couldn’t allow for such misinformation. “
Guanxi
is not about owning people. In the Chinese culture, it is important to cultivate connections with people in case one needs assistance of any sort. This assistance could be in the form of physical help, advice or influence.”

“Which sounds like manipulation to me.”

“Granted. In modern society, the more corrupt elements of the community have been using this to manipulate people through fear of revealing some ill-gained personal secrets.”

“In other words, they own that person.” Colin lifted both brows and looked at me while I considered his reasoning.

“I can see how you reached that conclusion. I don’t like it, but I will acquiesce.”

“Um. Thank you.” He smiled and pointed to the monitor. “This man very likely owned Savreux because he had evidence strong enough to completely destroy Savreux’s career, maybe even put him in jail for a long time.”

“Minister Savreux would not easily have surrendered to blackmail. Not according to the psychological profile I’ve created on him.”

“Which means that whatever this man had on Savreux was huge.”

“Could these tapes be it?”

Colin thought about this for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I think he put this camera in there to keep an eye on Savreux, not to gather incriminating evidence.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. More disconnected pieces were being added to this mystery, but I knew that it would require another Mozart concerto or a keyword that would cause it all to fall into place and make sense to me.

“Did you hear what he said about Motte?” Colin asked.

“Savreux had talked to him.”

“See if you can find footage with Motte on it. If we can get that conversation, we might know what it is that Savreux had been planning and what is supposed to happen.” He got up and kissed me on my cheek. “I’m going to check on Francine.”

“Are you making progress in solving the Boston heist?”

“Not as fast as Manny wants, but we’re getting closer. Francine thinks she has a lead that one of her people found. I’m going to see if it is worth looking into.”

I stared at him. It took immense control to not get out of my chair and insist on going with him into the team room. This was not the first time we worked separately, but for some inexplicable reason, a negative feeling dominated whenever I thought about them working on the Boston heist.

“What’s wrong?” Colin sat back down and swivelled my chair to face him.

“I don’t know.”

He waited for a few seconds and smiled when I didn’t elaborate. “Want to try and explain it to me?”

“I have a negative feeling about you working on the Boston heist.”

“A negative feeling as in a bad feeling? A bad feeling like an ominous foreboding?”

“You know I don’t believe in that nonsense.”

“Okay, so what kind of bad feeling is it?”

In my head, I went through the list of negative and even dark emotions to see which one fitted with what I was currently experiencing. Even though I had applied myself from a very young age to not only understand other people, but also being able to recognise and identify my own emotions, it still didn’t come easily to me. I tilted my head and was rather embarrassed when I identified my emotion.