Chapter Thirteen

Thirteen

M orning came early. Daniel realized for the first time in his professional career he was loath to honor the alarm clock and hop out of bed.

But he did.

Jeannette was as quick to rise, heading for the connecting door and turning back to grin at him. "Um, at least...let's see, Humphrey Bogart, Casablanca , um, 1942, I think? ‘We'll always have Paris'?"

"What? You're done with me already?" he queried. "I thought I was at least okay ?"

She laughed softly. "Not at all, Special Agent Murray. After this, maybe we'll have Reims as well!" Grinning, she started to move again but paused and this time said seriously, "I do hope that we'll see Jake Clayton today."

"We will," he said. "Again, I wish I might have known that man in life. Life is strange, of course, because our physical being is one thing. But with him, you can see so clearly that truly having honor, believing in a fight for one's country against the extermination of a group of people...being a soldier, bravely determined to enter the battle for what is right...it's in the soul. He'll be there. And he'll keep helping us. Like Henriette."

"They couldn't find her last night," Jeannette reminded him.

"She might have been busy elsewhere, but she seems determined to stop this, too."

"Right! Shower!" she said, leaving the room quickly at last.

Luke and Carly were in the kitchen pouring coffee when they emerged. Mason and Della were right behind them.

"Remember, if there's trouble, we'll be close," Luke said.

"On speed dial," Daniel assured him. "Team player here, no cowboy!" he assured him.

Luke laughed. "Cowboys in Scotland?"

Mason and Della smiled as they heard and were followed by Gervais.

They were taking individual cars out to Reims, ready to divide and move in any direction when necessary.

"So," Gervais announced. "I will go to Madame Matisse's bed-and-breakfast with the team, and I will be there to meet up with Jules Bastien and Delphine Matisse. Delphine, of course, knows me. We were honest about needing help, hoping that—with no insult intended—one of her workers might be able to help us. But we don't mean to be threatening. But, of course, Delphine will come to the house first. She must—to give you keys," he said.

"Keys that many people seem to have?" Mason asked dryly.

"That is why we keep a team member on guard through the night, right?" Daniel asked him.

"True," Mason agreed. "But..."

"She should have had the place rekeyed immediately. There is a legal problem in there," Gervais said. "But one I don't want to get into now when we're playing for bigger stakes."

"Obviously not. We must not appear to be threatening, but rather needy," Daniel said.

"Exactly," Gervais agreed.

"Let's move," Mason said.

They headed out. Jeannette studied the landscape as they traveled. Daniel looked at her curiously.

"What?"

She shook her head. "So much history here! From the arrival of the Parisii...years of monarchs and royalty ruling, old wars, new wars. A man like Napoleon being such a force in the revolution—then climbing high to crown himself emperor! But I guess because of Jake Clayton, I keep thinking about the city, the people and World War II. And that sometime, I would like to be here just as a tourist. I have been before, but it's been a while. Notre Dame is amazing, and so is the Louvre and so much more! And honestly, I haven't seen the amazing sights in Reims."

"Ah, but think of it this way!" Daniel told her. "Today, you will see what tourists don't usually get to see. Even on a wine tour, guests don't get into the true living quarters of the dynastic wineries."

"Yeah? How far do you think she'll let us in? Of course, Jules has spoken with her by now, so if there is something that she needs to hide herself..."

"It will be gone."

"I still wonder if she can possibly be guilty," Jeannette said. "We'll learn what we can learn. And... Oh!"

"What is it?"

She was studying her phone.

"I just got a message. It's from Clara—"

"From who?"

"Clara Miller, one of the young women on the tour with us. Daniel, stop! We've got to turn around."

"Why? What's happened?"

He did as she instructed him, quickly finding a place where he could get around a circle to head back into the heart of Paris.

"I'm letting everyone know," she murmured as she hit the speed dial on her phone that would connect her with the others and put it on speaker so Daniel could talk and hear as well.

"We've got a problem, Gervais. You had guards on those girls Daniel and I met on the wine tour, right?"

"Of course. If I said it, I did it," he assured her.

"Clara Miller texted she'd seen the same man—and she knew, though we didn't tell her, that we were here investigating something. She was grateful for the guard. But they're at a morning improv show in a little place near Notre Dame. She says he was with them, but now he's disappeared. We're going back. It may be unnecessary, but—"

"I'll make calls and turn around," Gervais said.

Daniel glanced at Jeannette and said, "We'll run a little late. We'll see if Gervais can contact the officer on guard duty, and if not—"

"No more victims!" Mason said. "Go ahead. Keep in contact. We'll keep on moving and then call you back. If necessary, we'll put our ‘rip apart the House of Matisse' as late as necessary."

"Making calls," Gervais said.

"Me, too," Jeannette said. She quickly dialed Clara. She was grateful the girl answered, but she sounded as if she was terrified.

"I—I—we figured you were cops," she said nervously. "And...we were grateful, happy that you made sure to get guards on us. But this man...he didn't want us frightened. And when we saw him too many times...well, he said he'd be on and off duty. He was with us today, behind us. I mean, with us behind us, watching us. But now...the show is over. They're going to kick us out, and he isn't here and he isn't in front—"

"Where are you exactly?"

Clara nervously rattled off an address.

"And I think there's another man here. Another man we've seen before, and it might have been when we were on the tour—"

"At which house?" Jeannette asked.

"I don't know. You weren't sampling as much wine as we were. I don't remember. Oh, God, we're all so frightened. This place...there's an alley behind it, and we're not in the best area...not far from the Porte de la Chapelle, an old place, a little theater, but...we shouldn't have come. There are little streets, narrow passages...and I may be panicking and ridiculous, but I'm scared, so scared!"

"Don't move—we're checking on your guard right now and—"

"We're not far. I can get us there in five minutes," Daniel told her.

"Stay on the line with me," Jeannette told her.

Her connection was holding strong, but she didn't want to lose contact with Clara. It was all right; Daniel nodded at her and answered the call from Gervais.

"We can't reach the officer," Gervais told him. "I've called local—"

"We're almost where they are—we'll be there first," Daniel told them. "We're going in silent. If someone did something to that officer...maybe we'll get them."

"On my way, close behind," Gervais said.

"Oh, no, oh, no..." Clara said over the line.

Then she was gone.

But Daniel hadn't lied. He pulled off the road, heedless as to whether or not parking was legal, and the two of them hurried out of the car. Daniel pointed out the theater sign on the building just fifty feet down. They hurried and reached the front, where people were still walking out into the street.

Jeannette noted the narrow alley on the side of the theater.

"Going around!" she said.

"Coming through to the rear," he replied.

Jeannette drew her Glock from the small holster at the rear waistline of her jeans, usually hidden by the fall of her jacket.

The alley wouldn't allow for more than two people to pass at any time. It was littered with cigarette butts and small trash, but there was no one in it. She moved carefully but swiftly along it, pausing when she reached the rear of the theater in an area that offered a larger expanse of space along with receptacles for larger trash.

There was no one there.

Maybe...

Maybe something had just happened to the line. Maybe the girls were still safely inside the theater with Daniel calming them down.

She saw that another alley led from behind the dumpster by the building on the other side of the block—and toward the street on the other side as well.

She hurried to the dumpster. And that's when she paused.

There was a man on the ground. Bleeding. She knelt by his side, quickly checking for a pulse.

He was still alive. His pulse was slow and thready, but it was there.

She hit the speed dial on her phone and gave the information to the others. Gervais promised medical help for his officer immediately. Daniel said he hadn't found the girls, and he was coming through. She let them know she was racing through the next alley.

"Jeannette, I'm almost there!" Daniel told her.

"Right. Catch up!" she told him.

She ran through the next narrow alley, and slowed just as she reached the larger service area for the next building. And that's when she heard them.

Crying...

One of them begging.

"No, no, please...please..."

And then she heard the threat.

"I am not going to hurt you, but if you do not listen to me, this knife I have against your friend's ribs will pierce right through them. Walk! Walk! Move, smile and shut the hell up, no more screaming, stop the damned crying!"

Jeannette thought whoever had the girls was an American! Or at the very least, someone who spoke English fluently and sounded as if they hailed from the Midwest.

Inching along the wall, she realized they were just ahead of her, making their way through the next alley to the street.

Three? Someone is taking three women at a time and that same someone knocked out a police officer?

She was worried that the man most certainly had a knife against someone's ribs. But they were also getting closer and closer to the street. And through the narrow alleyway, she could see there was a dirty dark van waiting just at the end of the passage.

She had to stop them before they got to the van—and before endangering their lives.

"Clara!" she called out, hurrying forward, hoping she was playing it out to the best of her ability. "Clara, hey, it's Jeannie, and I thought we were all going out to the Louvre today! Hey, wait up, wait up! Clara, Emily, Red! Wait up! Wait up!"

She'd shoved her gun back in its holster and ran forward eagerly with a big smile as if she had just missed her friends.

She kept chattering as she reached the trembling women and the large man who was holding Clara. She pretended not to notice the circumstances.

"I know, I know, I know... I missed the improv show and I'm so sorry. And I—oh! Um, sorry, I didn't realize you were with a new friend! Hi, I'm Jeannie! Oh, my God, is something wrong? You're all so upset! Can I help? Can I do something?" she asked, as if she'd suddenly realized they were distressed and as if she truly were a friend who wanted to help.

The man stared at her furiously. His one arm was around Clara, and Jeannette didn't doubt he was holding a knife, and he was holding it flat against her ribs.

He appeared to be about forty and he had a rough look about him. He hadn't bothered to shave in a few days but his hair, a dull brown, had been cut short. He was wearing a long jacket, T-shirt and jeans, and she thought the man might have been one of the many homeless who had found their beds on the street in Paris.

He stared at her, weighing his options, she thought, just as she had weighed hers.

"You can shut the hell up. I have a knife about to plunge into your friend's guts. Now, do you want that? Do you want to be responsible for her intestines trailing down the alley? You'll do... What are you, twenty-four, twenty-five? You want her to live, you join the others."

"Join them where?" she asked.

"Walk right ahead and slide into the van," he told her.

She stared at him. Time to weigh her options again. She could do as he said and perhaps...

Perhaps find out what was going on. Or...

Get them all killed. No. She still had her Glock.

She spoke loudly. "Knife?" she demanded.

And he did as she asked, adjusting his arm so that she could see that he, indeed, carried a knife, one about six inches long, so sharp that it seemed to glisten in the poor light.

"As you can see," he said. "She will die. And you will be able to do nothing. I will slide this blade into her without hesitation, and you will not get me."

He started to press the knife into Clara. Clara stared at her with her large blue eyes desperately pleading. Shaking, holding each other, Emily and Red let out little sounds of distress, eyes bright as well with the tears they'd been shedding.

"Of course. You want us in a van, we'll get in a van," Jeannette said. She just needed to get him walking ahead of her. And like it or not, draw her Glock and shoot him in the back of the head before he could cause Clara further harm.

"Get in front of me!" he told her, eyes narrowing. "One more pain in the ass thing from any of you, and she dies!"

He started to move his arm, pressing the knife slowly but more deeply into Clara's side.

Then, an explosion rent the air.

The man staggered back from Clara and fell to the ground.

Clara, Emily and Red screamed and jumped back.

Jeannette turned. Daniel was running down the last few feet of the narrow alley toward them. And as he did so, the waiting van suddenly burned rubber and took off down the street.

"You're all right, you're all right!" Jeannette assured the girls, catching the sobbing Clara as she threw herself into Jeannette's arms.

Daniel went straight to the man on the ground to check for a pulse or for any sign of life. But it wasn't there, and she knew the man was dead.

Daniel had been listening to the exchange. He knew he had to shoot to kill lest the knife sink any farther into Clara's flesh and destroy her organs.

Jeannette heard him swearing softly, but she had to hold Clara to keep her from jumping on him as she said, "Oh, my God, thank you, I'm alive, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. We were so stupid, it's just that... Oh, he's dead, he's dead. I'm sorry, but I didn't want to die, thank you, thank you—"

The last words were barely out of her mouth before Jeannette realized Gervais LaBlanc had come through as well, and he was followed by two officers. Daniel stood and began speaking with one of them. He handed his Glock to Gervais and continued to speak in French. Jeannette could follow some of it; he was telling Gervais he'd been listening. He hadn't wanted to shoot.

There hadn't been a choice once the man had forced Jeannette ahead of him.

"Young ladies, you are all right?" Gervais asked, turning to them.

"Clara is cut up!" Emily announced. "The two of us are fine. No, we may never be really fine after this, but...he pretended he needed help. He got next to Clara with that knife. He said if he didn't get us out, he didn't care if he died. So he'd be happy to kill Clara if he needed to!" Emily explained.

"When we didn't see our officer, we were scared, and Clara had Jeannette's number so we texted and..." Red continued.

"We listened to him! We couldn't let him kill Clara!" Emily told them.

"Of course, of course," Gervais assured her.

"And we're all alive, oh, my God, we're all alive!" Red exclaimed.

It seemed that chaos reigned then, and perhaps naturally the girls were hysterical but relieved. Gervais quickly took charge of the situation, and it was necessary that they all—Jeannette, Daniel, Clara, Emily and Red—come to headquarters to make statements. With the shooting and the dead man, it was necessary for Daniel to turn in his weapon; but Jeannette was certain that before they found themselves in any other situation, he'd be given a replacement.

Jeannette and the girls described the van that had been waiting for them on the street, but they hadn't been able to see any license plate, sticker or any other kind of identification on the vehicle. The angle had been bad, and besides, as Daniel pointed out, the dirt was on purpose to hide anything that might give them a clue as to finding the vehicle. Gervais sent what description they could give out to officers in Paris and throughout France in case it might be spotted. Gervais told Jeannette, however, that he suspected the van had already been abandoned.

At headquarters, the girls gave their statements, and Jeannette and Daniel also wrote up their reports.

Before ending it, Daniel called Mason and told him of the incident. As it happened, they had barely arrived when the call was made.

Jules and Delphine were just appearing; Mason said he'd get back to them as soon as possible.

The girls were terrified but in speaking with one another, they decided they did not want to go home. No one could tell them what was really going on.

No one could assure them their journey couldn't be sabotaged, nor could they guarantee the girls' safety.

But there was an acceptable answer. The girls would be escorted to the safe house and share it with Shelley.

It had felt like forever since they'd turned back to get to the girls. It made no sense for them to try to do too much more with the day.

But when they finished at the station and waited to speak with Gervais, Mason called. Daniel took it, moved them to a corner and put the call low on speaker.

"They still want to see you," he told them. "Sorry. Delphine and Jules still want to see you. They know what happened, of course. I think news agencies were out with almost the same speed of the medical examiner and the police. By the way, anything new on the dead man?" he asked.

"No identification of any kind on him—not even a credit card," Daniel said. "They're working on it."

"And the officer who was attacked?"

"He's out of surgery, hanging on, but still unconscious," Jeannette told him.

"And it's just two o'clock. You do seem to enjoy eventful mornings," Mason said dryly. "All right, get out here."

"You or Luke and Carly or Della didn't go out with them?" Daniel asked.

"Jules wants you," Mason told them. "Apparently, so does Delphine. They were so disappointed, but I think your attack was just after ten and they had just gotten there... Well, the attack had already happened, and Jules knew about it, and he was horrified."

"I was afraid he was going to say he didn't have another day to give up to help us at the House of Matisse," Jeannette said.

"No. He's there—and waiting for you."

"But he has a show tonight—" Jeannette said.

"No, it's his one dark night. His day off. So, when you finish with the paperwork—"

"Get out there now?" Daniel asked.

"What was your plan?" Mason said lightly. "Sitting around with café au lait and croissants?"

"No, we were headed in that direction—" Jeannette began.

"When you arrive at the bed-and-breakfast, Jules will be here," Mason told them.

"Okay...?"

"He's watching a movie with us. An old American movie he thought was great. Kevin Kline and Meg Ryan, something called French Kiss . He wants to point out Paris landmarks and other wonders of France that are shown in the movie. Anyway, he said he promised you that they'd take you around, and he doesn't want to disappoint you. While paperwork takes a long time, the girls were attacked so early he said he can wait."

"All right, then. I'll let Gervais know," Daniel said.

"Fine. Della and Carly and Luke are doing great at cementing a friendship with the fellow, so I think things will go well," Mason said. "When you've gotten here, we'll make a stop-by with Gervais, if he's here, at the House of Deauville and do what we can to find out about a dead man who was working for them ever so recently! Time doesn't matter with Delphine and Jules. They're waiting for you."

"I think they are planning our visit, and we're giving them even more time. By the time we get there, the stage will be set and we'll leave thinking they are more wonderful than ever," Jeannette said dryly. "I don't know, it seemed a good plan at first. Now, I'm not sure."

"Sure or not, it's happening. And one never knows," Mason said.

"Right," Jeannette told him.

"On the way."

They ended the call.

"I need to ask one of the desk officers if they can get Gervais for us," Daniel told her. "I don't want to leave without saying anything, and I don't want to distract him with a phone call—"

"No need, here he comes," Jeannette pointed out.

Gervais strode toward them, his expression serious. "You're finished here, you can go out to Reims. I don't know—"

"We'll still be having a meeting with them. Apparently, today is the magician's dark day, and he said he had offered us the run of the place and was willing to wait. He's at the bed-and-breakfast, just waiting and watching movies," Jeannette explained.

Gervais nodded. "Fine. Go. I should be close behind you. I will stop at the bed-and-breakfast first, if any of your team is there, or perhaps meet up with them at the House of Deauville."

"All right. We didn't want to leave without you knowing," Daniel told him.

Gervais nodded and then he managed to give them a grim smile. "Thank you both for your competence and your speed. My officer is going to live. If he'd been left much longer, he might have bled out from the knife wounds. And they are already escorting the young women to get their belongings. I believe they'll be happy to meet Shelley, and they will all do well together."

"Thank you, Gervais," Jeannette said.

He nodded and turned away, speaking as he walked. "Paperwork. Every country, I believe, demands paperwork. It can be endless!"

They left and started the drive out to Reims.

As they did so, Daniel told her, "That was really brilliant of you," he said.

"What was?" she asked, frowning.

"Letting those young women have a way to contact you. With all the visitors—all the young and lovely visitors—they might not have been victims. But you suspected they might become victims as they fit the profile. You saved their lives."

"Teamwork," she told him. "Once that man forced me in front of him, I was calculating wildly on what I was going to do. I figured on the one hand that if I got in the van, I'd know where the women were being taken, but I was afraid that one of them—"

"Or you!" Daniel interrupted.

"One of us might have wound up dead. I still had my Glock, but the way he had that knife... If he wasn't taken down completely by surprise, the blade could have gone in."

Daniel nodded. "I hate it, of course."

"Hate killing?"

He nodded. "But we're also taught we're obligated to save the lives of victims, so..."

"I think most of the French police who have been involved in this—who have seen the bodies of the dead—might be applauding you. But I know. It's never a good feeling."

"Right. So here we go again. Out of Paris...and out to Reims and then out to the beautiful and world-famous French vineyards!"

Jeannette smiled and leaned back. She had known it was going to be a long day. She just hadn't expected it to be this long already.

They drove in silence for a while. A surprisingly comfortable silence.

Then Jeannette thought to ask him, "Wow. I'm sorry. I should have offered. Do you want me to drive for a while?"

He laughed. "I'm fine. Unless you want to drive."

"I've never cared who drives," she assured him. "Just, hmm. What do we do when we get there?"

He laughed. "We take the last room. I don't think anyone is going to notice, not even to blink. Okay? I mean, I'm okay if you're okay."

She smiled, leaning back, closing her eyes again.

And soon the beautiful architecture of the city of Reims appeared on the skyline, and they were driving up to Madame Matisse's bed-and-breakfast.

They were greeted warmly and with a zillion questions from the team—and from Jules Bastien. She saw Mason was listening carefully to what was said in front of Jules, but not much of it mattered.

There wasn't anything they needed to hide.

Everything they knew was already in the hands of the media.

"At least you're all right!" Jules told them. "And those lovely young women. This is so terrible! What is happening out here? But as I told you, we will help you. My mother and I will help you in any way we can. I am ready to drive out there whenever you like!"

"Um, I need just a second. I'd like to wash my face. It will just take me a second, I promise," Jeannette said. She looked at Della, starting to frown. "Where—"

"Oh, you and Daniel are that first room over there. I think it's the same room you were in when you stayed here before," Della told her.

"Great. I'll be right out."

She did want to wash her face and her hands, as if she could wash away the events of the morning. The kidnappers had been stopped.

But what it meant was that nothing had been stopped at all. There was someone pulling the strings, someone with wealth and power.

Just as it had been with Elizabeth Báthory, and perhaps her husband, Nádasdy, who had been so vicious to his enemies at war. Others had been arrested with Elizabeth, others had been executed, but not until many, many had died.

She ran very cold water over her face. As she did so, Daniel called out to her. "I just brought our overnight bags in. And I'm putting them in the closet and—"

He broke off suddenly.

Staring at her own reflection, she frowned, grabbed a hand towel and dried her face and hands, and hurried out.

Daniel was fine.

He was standing in front of the closet, something in his hands, staring.

"Daniel?"

He turned to her, and she saw he was holding a book.

"Some of the hangers fell when I opened the door to slide the bags in there. I bent down to get them and in the back there was a pile of books written in different languages, as if someone supplied a little library for those who stayed here."

"Many places keep books for guests or have libraries in the house. Even hotels have them sometimes," she said.

"Books like this?"

He showed her what he was holding, and she walked closer to take it.

The book had a long title.

Jeannette read it out loud.

"Elizabeth Báthory, Rumor, Truth and Legend."

"I'm beginning to think," Daniel told her, "that your instincts are very, very good."