Wealth

Wealth-8

“Good morning. I’m Captain Will Fuller,” he said, reaching out to shake Kaitlyn’s hand. “Sir, Madame Boursellino was seized from her car as she pulled up outside the Ritz Hotel in Paris at about 1:30 this morning. Two men wearing balaclavas and armed with light machine guns held up the chauffeur and the bodyguard. There was an exchange of fire and the guard was killed. They shot out the tires of the car to prevent a pursuit. A demand has been received at the New York HQ of Sackman-Platinum.

“What do they want?” asked Randolph.

“Sir, they want you to surrender to them in exchange for Madame Boursellino. I believe you know these gentleman wish to discuss matters of business with you.”

Randolph glanced at the array of wall clocks showing all the time zones of the world. His face was serious and thoughtful.

“OK, I’ll agree to that of course. I’ll need André and two sets of kit in tourist-style rucksacks.”

“Stella, Madame Boursellino, was wearing her GPS tracker watch. It looks as if they haven’t spotted it because it’s still monitoring her heartbeat. We have an exact fix in a restaurant in La Rue de la Huchette on La Rive Gauche.”

“Where do they want me to meet them?”

“We don’t know. They’ve provided a French cellphone number. You call it and you take it from there.”

Kaitlyn’s heart was thumping. Randolph was about to get mixed up in some sort of drama involving Mafia-style killers with machine guns seemingly on the streets of Paris. She’d never even been to France.

“I can’t get involved in this,” she said, as his eyes flicked to hers.

“You’re involved. I’m not under arrest or under your jurisdiction in any way. Here’s the bottom line, Kaitlyn. These bastards will r**e and t*****e Stella before they kill her. If we tell the French police where she is, they would go in with grenades and tanks. If we don’t get her out, she doesn’t get out.”

“I’m not part of this ‘we.’ I’m a Metropolitan Police London traffic cop. I operate within the law.”

“And I’m a banker. You’ve not broken any laws yet anyway. Just come along as a neutral observer. By the way, you look lovely even first thing in the morning.”

She watched his calm handsome face. He had no fear. Just what sort of banker was he? Sure he did business with crooks and killers but she guessed that half the world of finance was a billionaire’s laundromat for crime of some sort. Her own world had lost its roots and reality and this man had the courage and daring to confront life and force it to be how he wanted it. All she’d ever done was played to the system, been the good girl, jumped the hoops for fear of being rejected, of disappointing others. That was the girl she was beginning to recognize and dislike when she’d gone for that tattoo. Ishtar, goddess of power, love, and combat. She didn’t have to hurt anyone. Life was throwing her a chance, a chance that had teased her since she’d discovered the history of that woman-god and proclaimed her power on her own flesh. She’d meant it as a badge of intent. Now, now, and now and now, she’d walked to the edge of the diving board.

She nodded, conscious that she was learning something about the nature of fear. Now she had decided; she was calm. The micro-distance between the hero and the coward is nothing but the infinite void of indecision.

“It’s a f*****g good job you’re so b****y good-looking. Let’s go,” she said.

He smiled slowly.

“Good girl. Soon as I met you I could see your character. I’d trust you beyond most operators I’ve known. And of course, there is your troubling beauty, but I can cope with that.”

For a second she bridled at the “good girl,” but she let it slip. What did he mean by operator? He was speaking to Captain Fuller.

“Full speed for the French coast. Kaitlyn, there’ll be time to get a shower so you can get on with that. Trainers, jeans, hoodie, that’s the dress of the day.”

“Am I dismissed, sir?”

“For now. Stand by for further orders,” he replied with a laugh.

This guy was so up himself, so arrogant, so competent and courageous. At least she’d be able to call DCI Shannon Knightsmith.

It felt good to be clean and made up as the number rang.

“We know where you are by your ship’s transponder. We’ve had a report from the Parisian police department of a shooting at the Ritz involving an employee of Sackman-Platinum. Eye witnesses say that a woman, maybe drunk, was literally dragged out of a car but they’ve had no reports of anyone missing. They’re asking us because our interest in Randolph Quinn is flagged up on the Interpol database. I’m just watching your trace now and I can see you’ve changed course toward the French coast.”

“I thought we’d increased speed. Everything seems calm here.”

Shit, Kaitlyn—what the f**k are you doing? Some instinct had told her not to give away what they were doing. Some instinct that had made her lie to her boss, a top Scotland Yard detective. She trusted Shannon but someone on the inside had already betrayed the operation. She’d lied and she was stuck with it. “I’m just playing along and keeping my eyes and ears open. He’s promised to let me know everything if I just give him a bit of space.”

She’d lost it. Now she was in fantasy land with no hope of getting out. Why are you doing this to yourself, Kaitlyn?

“He’d promise you the world if it’d make him a dollar, but you’re doing a brilliant job. Don’t put yourself at unnecessary risk. Stay as close as you can. I’ve got a suspicion we’ve got a kidnap-type situation to put some squeeze on Randolph’s smooth-talking throat. That’s just my cop intuition.”

“So what if we end up in France or some other place like Paris?”

“Just don’t get involved with gangsters, guns, or the cakes. Definitely avoid the cakes if you want to keep your shape.”

Kaitlyn could hear the smile in Shannon’s voice. She was a great boss and she didn’t deserve to be lied to. Too late, she’d chosen her path, so get on with it.

“OK. No cakes. Shannon, this guy Randolph; is he bad all through?”

“Whoa! We’re only after the criminal bits of him. The smile, the looks he’ll still have those in jail, my little darling innocent. Yup. He’s a bad guy. Geddit? We cop. Him crook. When this is over you’re going to be a Scotland Yard detective and you’ll never ask that kind of question again, believe me. Just stay close and have a lovely day.”

She turned off the phone and looked at herself in the mirror.

“You cop. Him crook. You good. Him bad. Geddit. Geddit.”

“Well, what a way to thank a man for offering you a trip to Paris.”

Randolph must have come in from his adjoining room as she’d been speaking to Shannon. He took her in his arms. “Thanks for your trust in me. You could have blown the whole deal.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me not to call her?”

“I knew you would call in. I decided to give you that opportunity and also decided to have the bridge monitor the content. If you’d had an attack of Robocop honesty we’d have cut the satellite link. Now I know your heart. I didn’t ask you to lie to your boss but you did it for me.”

“I did it because I’m not sure who to trust and that, Mr Quinn, includes you.”

“Then I’ll have to prove things with actions not words, won’t I?”

“You will.”

Her answer blurred into his kiss. She’d boarded the fairground ride and she couldn’t get off until it stopped. And another thing. If she got involved in some mission to rescue the silken sophisticated Signora Stella Boursellino, the rich seductive cow would forever be in a debt she could never repay. Sometimes Kaitlyn really didn’t like herself. How could she loathe some pampered gorgeous b***h she’d never met?

Chapter 11The chopper lifted off from the deck as the door closed. André, the chauffeur she’d met was already aboard alongside the casually dressed pilot. Randolph handed her a blue Adidas rucksack. She peered inside and took a sharp breath.

“I hope it’s the model you like. It’s the regular Glock 26 you guys train with.”

“I don’t want to be carrying any sort of firearm.”

“It’s loaded so be careful,” he replied, ignoring her comment. “Transfer it to your hoodie and get the feel of it. I’m sticking to my Walther PPK. OK, there’s a balaclava, leather gloves, and a few useful gadgets like plastic tape, a dagger, and a claw hammer. You’ve got the Semtex and I’m carrying the cellphone-activated detonator. I’m a strict follower of the Health and Safety rule book.”

“This is crazy. Where did you get this stuff?”

“sss Prime—it’s well worth the fee. They don’t just do box set romance you know.”

“f**k off, Randolph. I didn’t ** to this. What the f**k are you?”

“I’m an international vice-president of a major Wall Street bank. We keep the same level of technology as our clients. In business it’s never a good move to be behind the curve.”

“Gangsters?”

“Wall Street.”

“Gangsters.”

“City of London.”

She wasn’t going to win with him. She didn’t have to open fire or plant a bomb. She was building a watertight case against him. Yes, for sure, that was what she was doing. Stay calm, Kaitlyn. You’re only doing your duty.

Within a few minutes they were hovering seven or eight feet above what looked like a car park. André slid back the door and jumped. Randolph nodded for her to go next. She landed and sprang clear. The engine of the chopper roared as the machine swooped away low over the roofs of office buildings and shops. She caught a last sight of Randolph waving from the window.

André was walking away, waving back for her to join him. A few French citizens eyed them curiously.

“f*****g hell. He’s just flown off. I’m supposed to be with him,” she said.

“He has a meeting. Mr Quinn did not want to risk your life. Anyway we have a maiden to rescue.”

“What—you and me? This is crazy. I’m in Paris, I suppose, armed to the teeth with some guy I don’t know. Randolph’s tricked me and now I’m supposed to be rescuing his ex-mistress, lover, or whatever.”

“I told him you wouldn’t be pleased,” said André with a shrug.

“Well, just like your f*****g boss it looks like you’re always right. Yes, I’m not in any way one bit f*****g pleased.”

“I have both the rucksacks. We’re heading for the RER rail station and then it’s ooh-la-la Pareee.”

Ahead of them was the entrance to a kind of subway station. She tried to pronounce the name Emerainville Pontault-Combault, merely to distract herself from her terror and, she had to admit, anger. André was laughing.

“Madame has an unusual accent,” he said.

“No wonder your b****y language hasn’t taken over the world. Look, I’m out of here. I’m not going anywhere with you. My job is with Randolph. I’m going to get to a British Embassy or something like that and you can’t stop me.”

“I understand. Madame, may I call you Kaitlyn?”

“Just get on with it.”

“Randolph himself is going into a dangerous situation. He has to make these guys believe he’s surrendering to them. These are very nasty boys, you understand. He has to hang there as visible bait while we get our target out. He will risk his own life one hundred percent to save her, I know this.”

“This is ridiculous. Why the f**k should I care if he dies for some old cash bag witch?”

“You would not be saying this if you knew her as I do. She is always a very beautiful woman. If we don’t get her out she will die, after the usual g**g r**e and t*****e of course. I know that ladies can be very jealous of another woman but as a police officer I know you would be above those ideas. Mr Quinn’s relationship with Stella is very complex and not what you think perhaps.”

“So let’s call the French police, gendarmes, or whatever and let them handle it.”

“You are certain that every single officer can be trusted? These bad guys are some of the richest people in the world. When criminals get this power all the regular boundaries are gone. This is Silicon Alley. They know who searches what on the Internet, they know who buys the p**n, who’s got a disease he doesn’t want to mention to his life insurance company. They’ve even got the DNA sample you sent off to that ancestry website. This is like an octopus with eyes and ears the length of every tentacle.”

“And Sackman-Platinum Bank makes them look like yum yum calamari in a regular seafood cocktail.”

André nodded.

“This much is true. This part of the world I cannot change. I am thinking of a woman alone and afraid, hoping and hoping someone will help her. That is all.”

“Christ, André, where do you guys get all this heartbreak stuff? Don’t tell me on sss. Just tell me what you want me to do.”