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She looked like she wanted very much to shoot them but couldn’t. So she said, “She did no business with us. She simply asked for directions.”
Nicholas said, “Stop wasting our time.”
“It is true. She did no banking.”
Mike stepped in. “This is a matter of life and death. This woman is fugitive; she is extremely dangerous. We need to know what she was doing here.”
Helmut closed her eyes for moment. A small frown crossed her face, then her shoulders straightened, her decision made. “The lady in the photograph inquired about the purchase of a safe-deposit box. I informed her there was a waiting list of over two years for the security section.” She looked down her nose. “We don’t do ‘walk-ins,’ as you like to say. She was very upset. I sent her to Sages Fidelité, on Place de Chevaleux. They perform a similar service without the wait. Or the security, but this did not seem to matter. She was quite urgent about it.”
She gestured toward the door. “This is all I know. Please, I must return to my work.”
Nicholas was vibrating with anger. “After all that, you mean to say you’ve been stalling us over a matter of directions?”
Helmut crossed her arms over her chest. “I am protecting my bank and my clients. I would prefer for you to leave now.”
Menard said, “Not yet, Madame Helmut. My officers are on their way. You will understand we ca
Mike’s phone dinged with a new text message. She looked at it and breathed in hard. Nicholas looked over at her.
“What is it?”
“Mr. Menard, Ms. Helmut, please excuse us for a moment.”
Menard nodded at them and stayed to face off with Marie-Louise Helmut. Mike walked out onto the street, Nicholas behind her.
“What is so important that you’d pull me away from a suspect in the middle of an interrogation?”
She merely showed him the message from Ben.
Nicholas read it aloud. “Andrei Anatoly and two of his sons are dead. Call me when you can. Savich has news for you, too.”
Menard joined them.
“She is lying through her teeth but is handing over the video feeds. What has happened?”
“News on another facet of the case, in New York,” Mike said, “and it’s a doozy. One of our initial suspects has been murdered. A mobster named Andrei Anatoly. Heard of him?”
“I do not know this name. What would you like to do?”
Nicholas said, “Tell us about Sages Fidelité.”
“They are much less intransigent. They would do business with a rhinoceros, should it have the right amount of money. I must stay here and gather the video. You should take a taxicab, they are a long walk from here.”
A cab pulled over at nearly the same time Menard raised his hand. Nicholas said, “We’ll be back as soon as we find anything.”
The moment she saw the three police officers walk away from the front of the bank, Marie-Louise Helmut calmly picked up the phone.
60
Mike called Ben from the cab as they raced through the streets of Geneva, put him on speaker so Nicholas could hear.
“Hey, Mike. Good timing.”
“What in the world is happening there?”
“Other than I’m up to my butt in dead mobsters and wished I had a beer, nothing much.”
“Ben, quit being fu
He did, then said, “Sherlock thinks it’s the same guy who killed Kochen and Elaine. He could also be the guy who attacked you and Nicholas last night in the garage. As for his dead partner, he simply left him to bleed out. Savich thinks he found what he wanted.
“Two more sons, Yuri and Toms, came in, saw their father and two brothers dead and attacked straight off. Savich put them both down, neat as you please. So far no one in the neighborhood saw anything.
“Now, back to the Fox. The bomb boys have a signature on the C-4 explosive from the Met exhibit. It’s out of Tunisia. They’re looking to compare it to the explosive used on Anatoly’s safe. No tests yet, but they think it’s the same.
“Neither Yuri or Toms Anatoly know what was in the safe. There are three more sons. We’ve called them to come in and talk to us. Paulie and Louisa are tearing the place apart, but so far, nothing you wouldn’t expect in a huge house like this one.”
Nicholas said, “Ben, we have a tentative ID on the man with white hair—we think he’s another master thief called the Ghost. Could be he’s partnered up with Browning. We don’t know exactly how he ties in to the theft of the Koh-i-Noor, but he does.”
Ben whistled. “Lot of coincidences piling up. And you know how we feel about coincidences.”
“There aren’t any. You got anything else, Ben?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, one other thing. We got a warrant in, and I tracked Elaine’s funds. She paid Kochen three equal installments of five thousand dollars apiece.”
Nicholas said, “Any indication why she paid him this money?”
“No. You guys watch your backs, okay? There’s some bad people around.”
“We will. Call me if you find anything else.”
She punched off her cell and turned to Nicholas. “Ben’s right. Talk about a case twisting in on itself.”
She saw his expression was remote. When he replied, his voice was distant. “So Elaine was paying Kochen.”
She lightly touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He shook himself. “Doesn’t means she’s guilty of anything yet, Mike.”
The cabdriver slowed, slid to the curb, and grunted at them, “Three euros.”
Nicholas handed the money through the slot. “Here’s our stop. Let’s go see what the Fox was up to, and maybe things will begin to make sense.”
61
Loire Valley, near Chartres, France
Lanighan estate
Thirty years ago
Saleem was eight when his father took him to visit his grandfather one last time before the old man was expected to die. At his request, Saleem was left alone in the study for an audience with the dying Lion.
The fire was the only light in the room. His grandfather’s chair sat squarely before the fire, close enough for the old man to warm his bones. There was nothing wrong with his hearing. The moment the servants softly closed the door behind them, he commanded, “Come here to me, boy.”
Saleem edged forward. His grandfather had changed so much since their last visit. The man who’d held him on his knee and hugged him close was gone, replaced by this ancient gray thing sitting too close to the fire.
He knew his grandfather was very sick, and suddenly Saleem was scared of him. He smelled wrong, and his eyebrows were thick, like hairy caterpillars, with stray hairs growing out like feelers.
When he was within a few feet, his grandfather’s arm snaked out and grabbed him, pulling him close. The musty smell of death overwhelmed him, and Saleem coughed.
“I need to tell you a story, Saleem. I am dying. It is important for you to know what this means.”
“Why are you dying, Grandfather?”
“My heart is broken, young Saleem. It has a hole that ca
He touched the boy’s forehead, and Saleem jumped. It was like setting a large cube of ice against his skin.
“Shall I add more wood to the fire, then? Will it help warm you?”
The old man shook his shaggy head. “It will not work. Now listen to me, and listen well. You are about to be given a secret so important you can never share it with another soul. Do you understand what I mean when I say a secret?”
“I can’t tell anyone, or I’ll die.”
A spark of humor showed in the old man’s eyes, and Saleem briefly saw the man he remembered, peeking out from the gathering black. He smiled, pleased to make his grandfather happy, and said, “Tell me, Grandfather. I will never tell a soul.”