Fear No Evil(Alex Cross #29)(33)

“Five.”

“Two of the victims in the slaughter I described were twin girls, five years old, just like your daughter.”

He tasted something sour and sensed something worse. “For real?”

“For real. And I’d like to figure out a way to stop that from happening again.”

“Your problem.”

“I actually see it another way. Who are the next likely targets in a retribution war? If this group killing federal agents because of their ties to your cartel want to make a statement, whose families do you think they’ll go after, Marco?”

For the first time, I really got to him. Alejandro struggled and then said, “I’m not helping you take down the cartel, even if it isn’t mine anymore.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I just want to understand who could be behind this group killing federal agents. Any ideas? A rival cartel? DEA agents gone rogue? An old enemy of yours? If you think about it, helping me in this way only helps the cartel.”

Alejandro sat there, head bobbing slightly. “But what’s in it for me?”

“I am authorized to offer you access to written material, a satellite-radio receiver, and an hour a day in an exercise room.”

He thought about that. “I need better food once a week and visitation rights.”

“Depending on how cooperative you are, I’ll see what I can do.”

Alejandro nodded. “Those other things—they start today?”

“As soon as we’re done here. I mean, if you can actually tell me who is at war with your cartel.”

“Oh, yes, I know exactly who is doing this. They killed five of my best men a few years ago and let me know it. Texted me pictures of three of them with bullet holes in their heads. Up close. Personal.”

“Who are they?”

“Real names?” Alejandro said and laughed. “I don’t know if they have those. But, depending on the day, they call themselves Maestro or M.”





Chapter





36


Paris



Bree entered Canard de Flaque at eight thirty p.m. on the dot, still wearing her business attire but now back to carrying the pistol in her purse. Henri smiled and said, “It appears you make powerful friends easily, Madame St. Lucie.”

“It’s never happened before, Henri,” she said.

“Somehow I doubt this. But come, he is waiting for you.”

As she followed him toward the booth where it appeared Philippe Abelmar took most of his evening meals, she glanced over at the bar and saw Valentina sitting with Luc L’Argent, who raised his drink to her as she passed. Valentina smiled and gave her a slight wave.

Bree wanted to figure out a way to get the personal assistant alone and warn her of what might await her in the coming days if her boss held to his pattern of nurturing young female aides for six months and then debasing them and blackmailing them for the next six months.

The billionaire wore another blue blazer and crisp white shirt. He rose to meet Bree, smiled as he made a slight bow, and gestured her into the booth, where flutes of champagne awaited.

Abelmar picked up his champagne glass and raised it to her. “You appear to be a rare find, Madame St. Lucie.”

Bree picked up her flute and clicked it against his. “Is that so?”

“It’s rare to meet someone by chance who has skills and contacts that I and my company and contacts lack. Which is why we find you intriguing.”

Before she could reply, the waitress appeared. “Shall I tell you our specials?”

Abelmar said, “I’ll be having the duck.”

“And I am going to have the veal dish that Carole the bartender raves about.”

“The veal?” Abelmar said, surprised.

“The duck three nights in a row?”

“I have done it too many times to count.”

She laughed. “I’m going to stick with the veal just the same.”

The waitress nodded and left them.

The billionaire said, “May I ask you a few hypothetical questions?”

“If I can give you hypothetical answers,” she said and took a sip of champagne.

“I’d prefer practical answers, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll try,” Bree said and set the drink aside.

Abelmar asked her several hypothetical questions regarding the establishment of shell companies and bank accounts in Saint Martin. Then he asked if it would be possible to set this up as a network throughout the Caribbean that was overseen and managed from Saint Martin.

“Of course it’s possible,” Bree said. “But will you excuse me one moment before I explain?”

“Bien s?r,” he said.

Bree took her purse and went to the ladies’ room. In a stall, she turned on her phone’s voice-activated recording app and slipped the phone into the purse’s outside pocket, zipper open, microphone facing up. From the first hypothetical question on, she had suspected Abelmar was looking to move money out of France to avoid taxes. Or to move the hundreds of millions of dollars he was suspected of siphoning out of Pegasus. In either case, she wanted to get him talking particulars if she could.

Having Abelmar actively discussing questionable financial activities would likely be enough for the Pegasus board to make its decision regarding the billionaire’s continued involvement in the company he’d founded. And if she got lucky, she might get enough to turn over to Marianne Le Tour’s contacts inside French law enforcement.