The Flinck Connection (Book 4) (Genevieve Lenard) (25 page)

“Raymond is going to have your hide for this, Lili.” Luc’s jaw was shifting from side to side, showing his anger. “How many more times are you going to be reprimanded for being too independently minded?”

It was clear Luc was at the beginning of a long diatribe. I put out my hand to stop him. It didn’t matter that he was presenting a viable argument. There were more important matters. As clear as I could, I mouthed, “We need to speak to the president.”

When the air-raid alarm went off this time, it didn’t startle me as much as when Daniel and Isabelle had arrived. We’d been expecting the president. Using a phone Francine had taken from a hidden compartment under her desk, Isabelle had phoned her husband. After an initial conversation that had lasted only a minute, she’d given him five minutes to find privacy before she’d phoned again. The next thirty minutes she’d impressed me by giving him a chronological and succinct report of the chain of events that had led us to this basement. It had been easy to hear his displeasure at her subterfuge.

He’d agreed on the urgency of this matter and had cut a meeting short to rush to us. It had been hard for me to not inquire about his security and whether he would have been able to come here without his usual entourage. Instead I’d been working on my computer, looking through the files Francine had sent to my laptop—the files Mariam had given Isabelle.

Francine and Pink had also been working in an impressive show of team work. He had adjusted something in her programming and five minutes later we’d had the first name of the owners of the thirteen accounts in the Samoan bank. It hadn’t surprised any of us that it was Remi Dubois. That account had been dormant for the last three years since his death. We still needed the other names. It was a general assumption that those would be Claude Savreux, René Motte and J.L. Legrange.

What we needed most was the fifth person, the name of the photographer. Colin was convinced that person would be the
mystery man on Minister Savreux’s home office videos. I thought it to be a valid assumption. All of these illuminating revelations and thoughts were now interrupted by the loud siren and the flashing red light.

I looked up from my computer, hoping Francine would put a stop to the horrid sound soon. Colin was next to me, admiring the Flinck he’d carefully placed on the table. He took a step closer to me.

“What the what?” Francine glared at her computer monitor. She clicked twice and silence filled the basement. “Who are all these people?”

Manny rushed from one of the sofas to the computer station. “What’s wrong, supermodel?”

“He brought his whole staff with him.” Francine threw her hands up in the air and swivelled her chair to face the door. “It was time to find a new place anyway.”

Isabelle joined them, also looking at the computer monitor. After a quick glance at the computer, Daniel walked to the door, his weapon drawn,
his body language alert and cautious. Luc stayed with Isabelle.

Manny’s brow lowered and he leaned even closer to see the monitor. “He brought little Henri with him?”

A knock at the door took my attention away from Francine’s ire. Manny walked to the door just as Daniel opened it. I got up to stand next to Colin, curious about the new guests, yet simultaneously dreading the growing number of people. Fortunately, Francine’s basement was spacious. Cluttered, but spacious.

“Mister President.” Daniel stood to the side to let the older man in. President Godard walked into the basement, confidence and authority in every non-verbal cue. He introduced himself to Daniel, whose reddened skin tone was the only clue to his emotions. Stepping away from Daniel, President Godard
greeted Manny with a handshake speaking of familiarity and respect.

The president gave a cursory look around the basement until he noticed his wife. His nonverbal cues indicated relief, concern and deep affection. With long strides he walked to Isabelle and gave her a short but warm kiss. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She looked around him towards the door. “What are they doing here?”

By the door stood Henri Fabron, Minister Antoine Lefebvre and a young woman I’d never seen before. Their body language was an interesting study. Henri exhibited cues of anxiety, frequently glancing at Minister Lefebvre and the young woman. She showed every indicator of fear, bordering on panic. Her eyes were wide, her pallor grey. Even with more than ten metres separating us, I could see the perspiration on her forehead.

Henri and the young woman walked deeper into the room, leaving Minister Lefebvre at the door with Daniel. The intense discomfort in the newcomers’ body language sent a rush of adrenaline through my system and made me pay attention. I estimated her age about the same as Henri’s. A few centimetres shorter than him, she was dark-skinned with her short hair tightly curled against her head. A pretty, albeit very nervous young woman.

The glances she sent Henri spoke of trust, her torso leaning towards him and away from everyone else. It only took a few more seconds of observation to convince me they were involved in a romantic relationship. This could be the woman Isabelle had been talking about earlier.

“Antoine was with me when you phoned,” the president said. “Since he has a vested interest in both this week’s art theft and Minister Savreux’s murder, I thought we could do with his sharp mind.”

He looked at me and smiled, his eyes widening slightly when he noticed the injury on my cheek. “Genevieve, always a pleasure.”

“President Godard,” I whispered and accepted the slight relaxation in his facial muscles as a warm greeting. He didn’t offer to shake my hand.

Colin took half a step forward and offered his hand. “As always, an honour, sir.”

“Mr Goddphin. Good to see you again.” When the president had met Colin a year ago, it had been a few hours after we had saved the president’s son. Colin had been in full disguise. Even though the names of Colin, Francine and Vinnie were never officially given to the president, I would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t had knowledge of who was working under his direct command. The micro-expressions on the president’s face told me he was being deceptive.

“We both know you know I’m Colin Frey, sir.” Colin’s tone held humour. “I’m the expert reappropriator.”

“That’s exactly what Colonel Millard calls you.”

A short discussion at the door pulled my attention away from the president. In an interesting show of courtesy, Minister Lefebvre was insisting Daniel walked ahead of him into the room. I took note of Daniel’s calculating expression as he gave a polite smile and led the Minister into the basement. Not once did Daniel’s posture relax nor did he holster his weapon.

It was the first time I had seen Minister Lefebvre in person. Everything about him was average. His height, his hair colour, his weight, everything. Except his micro-expressions. Like most people in public positions, he’d learned to school his features, but no matter how controlled we were, no one could override the involuntary reactions triggered by our limbic brain.

A feeling of great discomfort overwhelmed me as quick introductions were made. Fortunately, Minister Lefebvre didn’t
insist on shaking everyone’s hands. The young woman was introduced as Julie Bastin, Minister Lefebvre’s personal assistant. The worried looks she was sending Henri exacerbated my disquiet. She was constantly shifting on her feet, unable to find a comfortable position. She clasped her hands tightly, her shoulders lifting to her ears. I thought she was about to lose consciousness from the severe mental strain exhibited in her body language.

“Sorry to ask you this, Mister President, but did you leave all your devices at home like we’d asked?” Not even for the president did Manny lose his slouch. He hunched his shoulders and looked much more tired than he’d done before the air raid alarm had sounded a second time.

President Godard patted his pockets. “I feel kind of naked without any gadget, Colonel. But yes, I left everything behind. As did the others.”

Julie was nodding profusely, Henri swallowed, but it was Minister Lefebvre’s reaction that had me inhale a sharp breath. His fleeting smirk didn’t bode well. I tapped Colin on his arm and whispered, “He’s lying.”

“I beg your pardon?” Minister Lefebvre pulled his shoulders back.

“She says you’re lying.” Colin’s tone was neutral, but his expression wary.

Daniel and Manny stepped closer to the minister. Manny held out his hand. “If you have any devices on you, now would be a good time to hand it over, sir.”

I watched the short moment of indecision before Minister Lefebvre put his hand in his left jacket pocket and handed pieces of a phone to Manny. “I always carry three phones with me. You can ask Julie. We left in such a hurry that I only took out two. As you can see, I removed the battery from this phone.”

“It made that phone completely useless,” Pink said. He took the phone from Manny and turned it over in his hand. “Yup, without a battery, nothing and no one can access the phone or switch it on remotely. Where were you when you removed the battery?”

“A few blocks from where we had our meeting.” Minister Lefebvre lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, indicating his uncertainty. “I’m not sure exactly where, but it was very far away from here.”

I continued to stare at him, hoping to see the reason why I was not convinced by his explanation. His body language was congruent with his explanation, yet my subconscious and my training were giving me warning signs. The overload of information flooding my brain made it difficult to decide whether the minster’s body language required priority.

Factual information seldom overwhelmed me. It was the sensory input that I was finding too much. There were too many people in the basement, too many nonverbal cues to decipher and too much data I needed to attach to the people, events and situations involved. I needed Mozart. I needed a few minutes alone with my music to make sense of everything floating around in my mind. But I knew I wasn’t going to get it.

President Godard was busy explaining that he’d given Henri, Julie and Minister Lefebvre a short version of what Isabelle had told him. His trust in the minister and in their assistants was absolute. When he said this, Julie lost even more colour to her face and Henri stopped moving altogether. He was frozen, one of our three reactions to a threat.

“Is there anything new I need to know?” The president asked, looking at Francine.

Her mouth opened, closed and opened again. My well-spoken friend seemed to be at a complete loss for words when addressed by the president of France. Not even with Isabelle was she this awestruck.

“Um... Yes.” Pink pushed his chair a bit forward to take the attention away from Francine. “We have a programme running to find out who are the account holders of those thirteen bank accounts in Samoa. We now have three very familiar names.”

“Who are they?” Minister Lefebvre attempted casual interest. He pressed his arm tightly against his side, and I narrowed my eyes. It was as if he was trying to hold something closer to his body, possibly something in his right jacket pocket.

“Remi Dubois, René Motte and J.L. Legrange.” Pink glanced at the computers behind him. “I won’t be surprised if the next name is Claude Savreux.”

Seeing the flash of dread on Minister Antoine Lefebvre’s face as Pink gave the four names brought together the numerous separate streams of data to form a flash flood through my brain. The strength of it disoriented me and I might have lost my balance if it weren’t for Colin’s hand on my back, steadying me. I closed my eyes. It was as if I was mentally watching the different pieces of this case shift until everything was in its right place, forming a complete picture.

The high-level orders to stay away from Minister Savreux’s murder, those orders filtering down all the way to Daniel’s detective friend, Henri’s conflicting body language as he also ordered us to focus solely on the Strasbourg heist. All of it made sense. The concern on Henri’s face as he checked on Julie strengthened my suspicion about where Nikki’s DMs came from.

The photo of the four friends and the photographer, the four friends’ early jobs at FGMB, their connection to Elf, their connection to Gabon, the bank accounts both here in Strasbourg and in Samoa, the expensive lifestyles inconsistent with their traceable expenses, four of Mariam’s files I’d read. That too fell into place. My breathing became erratic as the excitement of comprehension mixed with the fear of all the possible repercussions.

“Jenny?”

The concern in Colin’s tone brought absolute silence to the basement. Only the computers’ whirring could be heard. No sounds from the street penetrated Francine’s safe workspace. I opened my eyes to see everyone staring at me, some with concern, others with fear.

As I inhaled to share what I’d concluded, a soft buzz broke into the silence. All eyes turned to Minister Lefebvre. He pushed his arm against his right jacket pocket, another fleeting smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. I stared at his thumb pressing hard against his little finger. Safe blackness entered my peripheral vision, tempting me to hide in its warmth. I took a shuddering breath, fighting for control. I had to warn everyone.

The computers behind me made a ping sound, drawing the attention away from the minister.

“Oh, we have another name.” Pink sounded excited and I heard his and Francine’s chairs swivel.

“Oh, my God!” Francine’s loud exclamation was immediately followed by the air raid alarm and the flashing red light. Sensory overload bore down on me and with immense effort I managed to take my focus away from the loud noise and look at the door. It was slightly ajar, open just wide enough for the three small cylinders to be thrown into the room. I immediately recognised what they were. Five nights ago, I had used exactly the same flash grenades when I had saved Vinnie from his attackers.