The Flinck Connection (Book 4) (Genevieve Lenard) (22 page)

“It’s their loss, Jenny. They don’t know you like I do—like we do.”

I closed my eyes briefly, reaching for courage. “You didn’t mind picking me up from the shower?”

A soft smile replaced his frown. “I was wondering when or if you were going to bring that up.”

“I was embarrassed.”

“Of trusting me?” He lifted my hands and pressed them against his chest, over his heart. “It was the biggest compliment you could’ve given me, love. To know that you feel safe enough to let me take care of you? No, I didn’t mind picking you up from the shower. I didn’t mind at all.”

I searched his face for any signs of deception.

“You’re not going find anything but the truth on my face, love.” He snorted softly and shook his head. “You really don’t know, do you? You don’t know how important you are to me. How much richer you’ve made my life. And Vinnie’s, Francine’s, Phillip’s, Nikki’s and even Millard’s life. You make us better people. You.” He rested his hand over my heart and I was surprised to feel tears form in my eyes.

The door behind Colin swung open and Vinnie stepped into the hallway. “Are you two going to stand here all night and play kissy-face or are you going to come in? The soup is getting cold.”

Ignoring Vinnie’s melodramatic declaration, Colin rested his forehead against mine. “I love you, Jenny. We all love you.”

I looked into his eyes and whispered against his lips, “Thank you.”

“Come on, dude. The soup. The soup.”

Colin laughed and turned around. “Hey,
Vin.”

“Get your ass inside. I want to see my girl.” Vinnie waited until I stood in front of him. He studied my cheek for a few seconds before looking into my eyes. He took a step back. “No hugging tonight, right?”

I nodded. “Thanks, Vinnie.”

“Where’s your voice? Dude! You didn’t say she completely lost it.” Vinnie followed me into the apartment and locked the door behind us.

“She kind of overused it. The paramedic says she shouldn’t speak for at least a week.”

“Girlfriend, what happened?” Francine got up from the sofa and left her laptop on the seat. “Are you okay?”

“Doc G.” Nikki came running from Colin’s part of the apartment. She was wearing the cartoon pyjamas Vinnie had given her for Christmas, her hair in a messy ponytail as if she had been sleeping. The acuity in her eyes proved she hadn’t. She stopped next to Francine and stared at me. “Vinnie said you were attacked.”

“Her voice is gone,” Francine said.

It took about ten minutes for Colin to tell everyone what had happened. In that time, Vinnie had ordered us to the dining room table and had served a vegetable soup, not too thick or spicy. It soothed my sore throat. Francine had finished her soup and was working on her laptop. I knew she was listening, but the work she was busy with was causing her great concern.

The doorbell rang, interrupting the list of questions Vinnie was asking without waiting for an answer. Both him and Colin got up and walked to the door, their postures aggressive. Vinnie looked through the peephole and his shoulders lowered. “It’s just the old man.”

He opened the door and let Manny in. Francine looked up, and that was when I became concerned. There was none of the usual recognition and playful teasing evident on her face. She gave Manny an absent-minded smile and returned to the work on her computer. The tapping of her fingers on the keyboard had become more frantic, her lips gradually thinning.

Manny came to the table, looked at Vinnie and looked at the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

“What do you think this is, old man? A restaurant?”

“Just bring me some food, criminal.” Manny sat down heavily. “What a bloody night.”

“How is President Boussombo?” I rapped my knuckles on the table to catch Manny’s attention when he didn’t hear my whispered question. “How’s President Boussombo?”

“I haven’t heard anything else, Doc. Sorry. I’ll check just now if you want.”

I nodded.

“Here’s your soup.” Vinnie placed the bowl down carefully in front of Manny, and threw down a spoon. Manny caught the spoon as it bounced and glared at Vinnie.

“Mrs Godard told us that Dukwicz was looking for something. She refused to say what it was. What was she talking about, Doc?” Manny took a sip of the soup and groaned. “This is really good.”

It made sense that Isabelle wouldn’t have said anything in front of the paramedics and the numerous security personnel and police officers. I prepared myself to whisper my response. “President Boussombo has evidence against powerful officials in Gabon who are involved in high-level corruption. She was going to give this to the prosecutor of the ICC tomorrow evening. Isabelle has been helping her set up the meeting. We were talking about this when I noticed a look between Isabelle and Mariam.”

“You’re calling them by their first names?” Nikki asked. “That’s so cool.”

I ignored Nikki and closed my eyes for a second to recall those frightful moments. “I think Isabelle has this evidence with her. I don’t know where, but it was not in Mariam’s suite. I saw relief on both their faces when Dukwicz asked for the evidence. There had been no indicators that they had something valuable in the suite. As a matter of fact, Isabelle had a micro-smile. Yes. She has the evidence.”

“You shouldn’t speak so much, Jenny.”

“I’m not speaking. I’m barely whispering.” I could feel the strain on my throat, but couldn’t stop speaking now. “Where is Dukwicz?”

“He jumped out the window.” Manny put his spoon down. “The bastard rigged up ropes and repelled onto the balcony from the roof. That’s how he got in. President Boussombo’s security detail never thought anyone would gain access from the balcony and didn’t secure it. When we came in, Dukwicz used the same ropes, but went to the street below. He was well-prepared. It took him only a few seconds before he was on the street and disappeared into the crowd.”

A tremor of fear went through me. That man had been in my apartment, in Vinnie’s bedroom just to make a point. Who knew what the next point was he would want to make? I didn’t know if I could sleep tonight.

“We’ll get him, Doc.” Manny picked up his spoon and shook it. “We’re going to get that son of a bitch.”

“I rigged all the windows, Jen-girl. If a mosquito sneezes close to a window, I will know.”

“I helped Vinnie put a whole new system up.” Nikki looked proud. “All of your phones are connected to the alarm system and Vinnie has everything on the computer in his room. It kinda looks like a computer game.”

“You’re safe here, Jen-girl.” Confidence was the dominant nonverbal cue on Vinnie’s face. “You can relax in your own home.”

I nodded, not sure if his reassurances were enough to help me sleep. I glanced at Francine glaring at her laptop, and frowned. “Francine, what is wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her voice was two tones higher than normal.

“Francine.” I waited until she focussed on me and I lifted my eyebrows. Her expression surprised me. I hadn’t expected to see regret. “What did you find?”

“I don’t know. I can’t say for sure. I don’t know what to make of this. It’s all messed up. I haven’t made any sense of it yet.” She only rambled when the distress was from a close emotional connection.

Manny pushed his soup bowl aside and sat up. “Spit it out, supermodel.”

“Firstly, I need to say what a huge fangirl I am of Mrs Isabelle Godard. I think she is smart, elegant, a good ambassador for woman’s rights, a kind person, a loving mothe—”

“Supermodel!”

“In our previous case, we learned that Isabelle Godard used her maiden name, Lescot, until ten years ago. When her husband gave up his legal career and got serious about politics, she changed to using his surname to show her unconditional support. We also know that she used to go under Lili, short for Isabelle.” She closed her eyes and spoke very fast, as if she didn’t want to say the words. “Lili Lescot has an account in the same bank, same branch, as the Libreville Dignity Foundation. There have been lots of large amounts going in and out. I checked a few of those transactions in the last two years. The dates of the transactions coincided with reforms the president was pushing.”

“Holy hell.” Manny pressed his fists against his eyes. “What are you saying, supermodel?”

“This account was opened at the same time René Motte became the chairman of LDF. It was also the same year the president became serious about politics. Since then thirteen million euro has gone through that account.”

“Oh, bleeding hell.” Manny got up and walked to the kitchen. He turned around three times before coming back, but he didn’t sit down. “Doc? What do you make of this?”

“It’s clearly a setup,” Francine said before I could formulate an answer. “Isabelle Godard is being framed for selling her husband’s influence. I have to look farther back to see what she could also be set up for before the president became president, but I’m sure I’ll find something. It’s a setup, don’t you see it?”

“Calm down, Francine.” It was the third time ever I had heard Manny use Francine’s first name. It was effective. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “Now, if you would give Doc a chance to answer.”

Everyone looked at me. “I agree with Francine.”

The reaction around the table was as I had expected. I seldom agreed with Francine’s outrageous theories.

“Care to explain, Doc?”

“No.” I saw the immediate irritation on Manny’s face and thought it best to qualify my answer. “Unlike Francine, I first find proof for my theories before I freely share them.”

“But you have a theory.” Manny sat down. “For the love of all that is pure, please tell us.”

“You know he’s just going to nag like an old woman if you don’t.” Vinnie was enjoying this.

“No. I need to look at Francine’s findings, compare it to my data and then I will share with you.” I took a sip of water. Even whispering my answers were taxing. My throat was burning, I was exhausted and needed to shower. “I need to rest for a few hours. Then we can continue this.”

Manny wanted to argue—it was clear in his protruding jaw and his flared nostrils. Thankfully, he didn’t disagree. He gave a terse nod and got up. “I’ll be here for breakfast. You better have something then, missy.”

Breakfast was seven hours away. It was plenty of time for Francine and me to work.

“Go away, old man. Jen-girl will tell you when she’s ready and not a moment sooner.” Vinnie got up and herded Manny to the front door. “Breakfast will be served at eight. We eat later on Saturdays.”

Manny turned and faced Vinnie as if the latter was not a head taller and more than a decade younger than him. “I’ll be here when I’m here. I don’t care about your little family schedule.”

“This is so exciting.” Nikki got up and took a few plates to the kitchen. “You guys have the craziest lives.”

“You’re one of us, punk. It’s not like your life is normal either.” Vinnie locked the door behind Manny and returned to the table. He took two empty soup bowls from Nikki, and pointed with his chin to the direction of her bedroom. “Go to bed, punk. We’ve got this.”

“Thanks, big punk. Nighty night.” She stood on her toes and kissed Vinnie on the cheek before turning to us. “I’m glad you’re okay, Doc G. Sleep tight. See you in the morning.”

I watched her walk to her bedroom with a light step. She was in my home and I felt responsible for her even though she was legally an adult and of no relation to me. How could I bring so much danger to a person so optimistic and open?

“I know that look.” Colin took my hand and pulled me up. “Don’t start thinking now, Jenny. Next up, you’re going to try and save the whole world’s problems, and you won’t be able to do it tonight.”

“That’s absurd.” I tugged, but he wouldn’t let go of my hand. “I can’t save the world’s problems, but I need to speak to Francine.”

“Tomorrow, girlfriend. Let me get all my ducks in a row tonight. When you get up tomorrow morning I will show you all the data I have on Mrs Isabelle Godard and you can help me make sense of it.” Francine winked at me, dismissing my reproving frown.

I gave in to Colin’s tugging and followed him to the bedroom. A shower and a few hours’ sleep would by no means be enough
to recover from the emotional turmoil I had experienced, but it might clear my mind sufficiently to look at Isabelle’s financial history.

“I hate you.” Nikki’s words were uncharitable, but I detected no animosity in her tone as I walked out of my bedroom. I was surprised to find her in the kitchen. It was three minutes past five in the morning, and I had left Colin sleeping in bed. Despite being woken every hour, I’d slept enough and needed to work with Francine on Isabelle’s financial information.

“Good morning, girlfriend.” Francine was sitting at the dining room table, her laptop and tablet in front of her. “How’s your throat? And your cheek?”

“Still hurts.” I still could only manage a breathy whisper. I pointed to my swollen cheek. “This too.”

“Good job with the makeup.”

“You’re lying. The swelling is very obvious, but that’s not it.” I sat down next to Francine and studied her expression. “You think my makeup doesn’t hide anything.”

She scrunched up her face and shook her head. “Sorry, but it really doesn’t do anything. I’ll help you later.”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair, Doc G?” Nikki came to the table with two mugs of coffee, handed Francine one and me the other.

I wrapped my hands around the hot mug. “Thank you, Nikki. What is unfair?”

“That Francine looks so good after pulling an all-nighter. She had a shower, is wearing Vinnie’s clothes and some of my makeup, and look at her.” Nikki’s expression indicated disgust and admiration. Curious.

I looked at Francine. She was wearing an oversized pair of black tracksuit pants and a t-shirt that I recognised as one that stretched tightly over Vinnie’s muscular chest. On Francine, it hung loosely over her breasts, the V-neck revealing ample cleavage. Her necklace and many bracelets changed the masculine clothes into a sensual outfit. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup subtle.

“I don’t see how you consider it unfair, but Francine does look good.”

“Thanks, girlfriend.”

“It’s unfair, because she makes it look easy. It takes me hours to tame my hair.” Nikki drew out the ‘hours’ for dramatic effect. It made me smile. She went back to the kitchen and picked up a mug and a plate with a sandwich. “I’m going to my room. You guys are going to talk boring numbers. I only want to hear about the scandals.”

“It’s the numbers that lead to the scandals.” Francine flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Go to your room, you little wimp. Don’t think because you let me borrow some of your makeup, I have to tolerate your insubordination.”

“Whatever.” Nikki rolled her eyes and left my part of the apartment.

“I like that little chica. She’s a sweet thing.”

I tried, but couldn’t let it go. “You can’t borrow makeup.”

“Excuse me?”

“Borrow, by implication, means that you will return it. You cannot borrow something you can never return. Ergo you cannot borrow makeup.”

“Did you just say ergo? To me? Me? Your bestest friend?” She pushed the back of her hand against her forehead and I sighed. Francine was in one of her happy, playful moods. Days like this halved my understanding of anything she said or did.

“What did you find?” My throat was hurting and my head still aching from the beating it took last night. I needed to focus on something I could understand, something not emotional.

“Ooh, I found a lot of interesting stuff.” She turned her laptop for me to see. “But you’re going to have to help me make sense of all these insane numbers. You’re the brains in this outfit that can connect all the dots. But I found loads of dots for you to connect.”

She started showing her discoveries, but I had to stop her. Her presentation was without thought or structure. I told her as much and we both sighed. I asked politely for a more organised delivery and she complied. It took about twenty minutes for me to realise that we had both been right in our initial assumptions about Isabelle’s financial detail. The next hour we spent finding evidence to affirm our suspicions. When applying herself, Francine was focussed and I only had to ask twice for her to clarify a statement.

“Working hard?” Colin rested his hand on my shoulder and I looked away from the bank statement Francine had just acquired illegally. He was freshly showered and dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a black knitted sweater. He frowned when he saw my expression. “What have you done? Why do you look so guilty?”

“I just hacked into a bank and Miss Goody-Two-Shoes is feeling flustered.” Francine rolled her eyes.

He laughed softly and kissed me on my uninjured cheek. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I didn’t feel guilty as much as extremely uncomfortable that I had condoned and, as a matter of fact, encouraged Francine to violate everything I believed in. We needed that information.

“Morning, dude. Ladies.” Vinnie walked into the kitchen, but stopped when he looked at Francine. “Are those my clothes? Are you wearing my clothes?”

He walked closer, his stride aggressive. Francine lifted her eyebrows. “Now, look here, you overgrown Neanderthal. How many times have I helped you out of trouble? Picked you up from the shady side of town and saved your arse? Don’t you think I deserve some support when I’m having an emergency?”

Vinnie’s nostrils flared. “This is not an emergency, you spice-obsessed fashion doll. Why didn’t you wear the clothes you had on last night? This is my lucky shirt. You’re wearing my lucky shirt.”

“Eeuw. I could never wear my outfit a second day. Only men lacking any sense of cooking and fashion would give their clothes the sniff test and wear them again.”

I had become used to this. In the beginning I had found their arguing disconcerting, until Colin explained it was banter. The fun they had while insulting and calling each other names was indisputable, and I had realised it was a coping mechanism for both of them. As usual, I started shutting off, but the ringing of my doorbell brought me back to the present.

Colin and Vinnie’s teamwork opening the door was becoming the norm, as was Manny’s appearance and his dismissal of their lack of welcome. Manny walked straight to the table, sat down and snapped his fingers. “Criminal, breakfast. Doc, report.”

“Fuck you, old man.” Vinnie’s brows lowered even more when Francine burst out laughing. He shook a finger at her. “And you should know to never piss off the cook.”

This made her laugh harder. Nikki came in, still wearing her pyjamas, but with an oversized hoodie zipped up to her throat. “What’s funny? Did you find a scandal?”

“There’ll be a scandal if those two continue.” Vinnie walked into the kitchen, scowling. “Come help me, punk. These people are pissing me off.”

“How’re you feeling, Doc? Your cheek looks quite bad.”

“Told ya,” Francine mumbled.

“I’m mending.” I didn’t think it useful to explain in detail how my cheek was throbbing, the burning in my throat was gradually increasing as I was whispering more and my head felt, for the lack of a better word, sensitive.

“What do you have for me, Doc?”

“I think I should give the report, handsome,” Francine said. “Genevieve has already talked too much this morning. She can add to it or correct me when I’m done. Is that okay, girlfriend?”

I nodded, thankful for her considerate gesture.

She cleared her throat. “Mrs Isabelle Godard’s finances are all directly related to her husband’s political career. Oh. No, wait. I’m going to start from the other side first. Her finances can be divided into two distinct parts, which are quite separate. The part we are not interested in is the three accounts that have daily activities in it. One savings account and two credit card accounts. Her salaries are paid into her savings account.”

“Salaries?” Manny asked and moved back when Nikki put a placemat and cutlery in front of him.

“She receives a salary from her work as a neurosurgeon. There is also her income from her position as board member of three different boards. All of these are legit. This income is declared on her tax returns, she pays all the right taxes and spends quite a lot of money on perfume. I guess us girls all have a vice.”

“What about the other part? The part we are interested in?”

“Well, that is where Genevieve and I spent most of our morning.”

“She did most of the research work last night.” I couldn’t let Francine imply that I had done that work. At least I’d had a few hours of sleep, even though she looked more rested than I did.

“That is the Strasbourg Security Bank account that I talked about last night.” Francine fiddled with her laptop’s screen. “Eleven years ago, Mrs Godard became a very public patron of Libreville Dignity Foundation. The next year, René Motte became chairman. The very next week, LDF changed banks and opened an account in Strasbourg Security Bank. On the same day LDF opened their account there, Lili Lescot also opened her account there.”

“We already know that from last night, supermodel.”

“What you don’t know, you impatient, but handsome man, is that there is no way Lili Lescot, aka Isabelle Godard, could’ve opened that account. She was on a volunteer mission in Gabon at that time. Eleven years ago, she still had a very strong neurosurgical career. She was considered one of the best in Europe. For two and half months, she went to Gabon and performed surgeries for free all over the country.”

I rapped my knuckles lightly on the table to catch Francine’s attention. “Mariam Boussombo.”

“Yes. That volunteer mission was organised by Mrs Godard and Mariam Boussombo, not yet President Boussombo. They were working together with a charity outreach programme in Gabon with the focus on children and women. That was what inspired them to get involved with LDF. Anyhoo, Mrs Godard was in Gabon from mid-May to the end of July that year. Lili Lescot’s account in Strasbourg Security Bank was opened in June of that year.”

“Could someone have acted as a proxy?” Manny asked.

“Nope.” Francine turned her laptop around to show Manny the screen. “This is a scanned account application form. At the bottom of the form you will see Lili Lescot’s signature. She
signed for this account and it’s written here that she opened it in person.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. Vinnie and Nikki brought in trays of food and soon we all had a plate with one of Vinnie’s delicious omelettes in front of us. I always marvelled at his ability to serve omelettes to so many people at the same time. I had only three pans.

“Which bank employee opened that account?” Colin asked. I had hoped someone would ask this question and wasn’t surprised it was Colin.

“Ooh, this is where things get even more delicious.” Francine stretched to get a fresh bread roll from the basket. She sat back down and dusted her fingers off. “Anyone wants to guess who the bank manager was? Huh? Huh?”

“It was Remi Dubois.” I didn’t have the patience for her games.

“Holy hellfire!” Manny threw his bread roll back on his plate. “The bloody fourth person in that photo.”

“We found some more dirt on old Remi.” Francine paused, widening her eyes dramatically, and intertwined her index and middle finger. “He was BFFs with René Motte. Yup, they were BFFs long before that photo was taken. They shared a flat when they studied and have always been allies. Cronies. You know, like in cronyism?”

“Oh, hell. This is turning into a total cataclysm.”

Colin laid both his hands palms down on the table. “Someone is running a long con.”

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s a long-term scheme to steal money from people.” Nikki looked proud that she had shocked Francine. She smiled at Vinnie when he bumped her with his shoulder.

I was still not clear on the term and looked at Colin.

“Yeah, Frey.” Manny leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Tell us exactly what a long con is.”

“Something that would need more planning that you’re capable of, Millard.” Colin turned his back on Manny and looked at me. “A long con is a strategy to win the trust of the mark—the victim—in order to steal money or something else from him. It could also be a form of industrial espionage to steal information. It’s not just limited to money or art. This usually happens over a period of a few days, weeks, sometimes months if the object is worth it. But I’ve honestly never heard of a long con stretching over decades.”

“What is your conclusion?” I was interested in his theory, since he seldom hypothesized.

“Okay, let’s say these five guys were all buds at university, Motte, Savreux, J.L. Legrange, Remi Dubois and the photographer.” He looked up at the ceiling, a habit he had while mentally working through a problem. “They graduate, leave university and start their careers. They’re friends, they help each other and that is how all of them landed up being involved with Elf in some capacity. They wanted to share the wealth with their buds or, more likely, wanted to keep the money in the family.”

I ignored his many irrational conclusions and listened for the core of his theory.

“But then 1989 comes along and gives each of them a bad experience with jobs lost, divorces and passed-over promotions. They’re pissed off and want to take revenge. Maybe because they’ve all been working hard at being part of this Elf embezzling scam. Now they’re going to lose out on it so they want to get their own back.

“What better way to make loads of money quickly than a heist? Stealing cash involves a lot more danger than stealing art. Especially back then when security in most museums was insulting to the art. They get their plan together, fly off to Boston and walk away with art now worth nigh-on five hundred million dollars.