Fear No Evil(Alex Cross #29)(34)

When Bree returned to Abelmar’s booth, their entrées were being served. She slid into the booth after the waitress left, noticed the bottle of burgundy he’d ordered and smelled the veal in thin mushroom sauce with leeks.

“Does it look good?” he asked.

“I have no doubt it will be excellent,” she said. “But I’m having trouble not gazing at your duck with longing.”

“I understand completely. As I always say, it’s an addiction.”

They ate. The veal was excellent, though not as extraordinary as the duck. The amazing wine was from a Grand Cru vineyard in southern France that Abelmar told her he’d recently purchased.

Bree took small bites of her food and smaller sips of the amazing wine while trying to steer the conversation back to Saint Martin. But the billionaire was unable to stop talking about the vineyard and how he was considering moving to the estate for part of the year, although he’d need to figure out what to do with his yacht in Nice.

She wanted to say, Problems of the mega-rich, but she held her tongue.

Finally, after they’d finished dessert and were sipping espresso, Abelmar said, “We—Pegasus—are looking to increase our involvement with a group of wealthy investors from Mexico and Central and South America. These people need a way to diversify and protect their portfolios by spreading out not only what they invest in but the locations where their wealth is held. Does this make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” she said. “So you’d be moving money into these accounts to do what, exactly? Invest in real estate or businesses in the Caribbean?”

“Among other things, yes,” he said. “They are looking to do this all over the world, as a matter of fact. And, frankly, they were not looking at the Caribbean because their advisers warned them of the threat of climate change to any investment there. But you know, meeting you, I am now thinking we should move money there precisely because no one else will.”

Bree nodded. “Sounds smart to me. People from the States and Europe are still going to want a warm-weather vacation during the winter for the foreseeable future.”

“Exactly,” Abelmar said. “Shall we continue this discussion at my apartment? It’s just up the street. Walkable.”





Chapter





37




Abelmar’s apartment. The place with the secret rooms where unspeakable things had allegedly been done to a stream of young women over the past fifteen years.

Bree smiled but said, “Well, I do very much wish to continue this discussion, Monsieur Abelmar. However, I am not in the habit of accompanying powerful men to their homes late at night.”

“Oh,” he said. “No. Nothing like that. Luc and Valentina will be there as well. It’s just more comfortable to relax there and continue our discussion.”

Bree could potentially search for the secret rooms. And maybe she’d get a moment to talk to Valentina. “In that case, of course,” she said, throwing all the warmth and sincerity at the billionaire that she could muster.

“Wonderful,” he said and then paused. “You are up to this sort of work, yes? The needs and objectives I’ve described?”

“The firm I work for was made for this,” she said.

“Du Champs and Vickers. We did some research. They’re very, very discreet.”

“Secretive describes us better.”

“Secretive it is, then,” Abelmar said. “Shall we?”

Bree got up from the table a bit confused. She’d thought for sure that Abelmar was looking to hide his own money or the embezzled money, and here he was, motivated by the needs of other wealthy clients. Or so he claimed.

“Please,” the billionaire said, gesturing for Bree to lead the way.

With Abelmar behind her, she felt slightly uneasy. He was a monster. There was not an iota of doubt in her mind about that. The stories the women told had had too many similarities. The secret rooms. The assaults. The videotaping. The despicable demeaning and blackmailing of the young women afterward.

Yet he had been a perfect gentleman the entire night; charming, even. It didn’t jibe at all with what she’d read in the horrific sealed files.

By the time Valentina and Abelmar’s chief of security had come from the bar to join them, Bree had resolved her inner conflict by remembering that monsters could be wealthy, and they could also be charming when they needed to be.

Luc L’Argent led them out of the bistro. On the sidewalk, Abelmar said, “It is only a short walk up the street. Ten minutes.”

“I can do that,” Bree said.

“Fantastic,” the billionaire said and went ahead to walk with L’Argent, leaving Bree alone with his personal assistant.

Before Bree could say anything, her cell phone rang. She looked at the number and saw it was Alex. They hadn’t spoken since the day before yesterday. “Sorry, it’s my brother,” she said in English to Valentina. “I have to take this. I’ll tell him I’ll call him back later.”

“Take your time,” the Australian said, getting out her own phone and walking on.

Bree slowed her pace to answer. “Alex?”

“You finally picked up,” Alex said.

“It’s been crazy. Where are you?” Bree asked, watching Valentina walking a few yards ahead of her on the sidewalk and Abelmar and L’Argent another fifteen yards ahead of Valentina. The two men paused at an intersection and talked intently.