The Final Cut

“The white-haired man—the Ghost—he stole the third diamond out of the safe after he murdered Anatoly and his sons.”

Mike said, “Sounds right. Ben called while the video was playing. Let’s call him back.” She dialed Ben, who answered immediately.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for you to get back to me. The NGI facial-recognition database found a match with Interpol crime scene footage from two decades ago, an attempt on François Mitterand’s life. We’ve identified a man named William Mulvaney, aka the Ghost, early sixties, six-foot-one, thin frame, white hair. We were right about all of it. He not only killed Elaine and Kochen and attacked you guys, he also killed Anatoly and his sons, but we still don’t know what he stole from the safe.”

Mike said, “I know what was in the safe.” And then she told him about Elaine’s tape, what she’d done, finishing with, “Supposedly, the three stones together can heal sickness. We think Saleem Lanighan believes it, and he’s the money behind the theft and the attacks.” She paused, then said, “Ben, Elaine had nothing to do with the Koh-i-Noor theft, nothing at all. She was i

Ben was silent for a moment, then said simply, “Good. That’s good. But if Elaine wasn’t involved, why did Mulvaney feel he had to kill her?”

Nicholas said, “Because she found out about the third stone, and he couldn’t take the chance of her telling someone. Or, very possibly, because Anatoly told him to.”

Ben sighed. “So needless, all of it. You also need to know, we’ve verified that Mulvaney flew into Paris last night.”

Nicholas said slowly, “It’s all coming together. Thanks, Ben.”

A brief pause. “You guys be careful. Savich has hooked up the surveillance on Lanighan whenever you’re ready to start watching him.”

Nicholas said, “We’re going over there at nine.” Mike hung up, and Nicholas said, “All right. Let me make one more call.”

He dialed Miles Herrington’s number but got no answer. No help for it. He called his boss, Hamish Penderley, at home, braced for the deluge. After two days of ignoring the man’s emails and calls, he had a bit of explaining to do.

Penderley surprised him, though. He answered the phone with a gruff “About time you surfaced.” But the berating he expected didn’t come.

“Sorry, sir. I’ve been rather busy.”

“Yes, I suppose you have. We heard about the explosion in Geneva. Cut it a bit fine there, didn’t you?”

Nicholas was relieved; apparently, word of the other two attempts on their lives hadn’t gotten back to him. He said, “Yes, sir. Even have a few stitches in my back as a result. Have you heard anything from Miles? He was supposed to be following the leak from the palace on the plans for the Koh-i-Noor exhibit.”

“My son doesn’t check in as regularly as he should.”

“Ah, well, then. If you should speak to him, tell him I’m waiting.”

“Is this what you called me about, Drummond? First you defy my orders and run off to America, now you want me to be the messenger boy from my son to you? You have some gall.”

“No gall, sir. I’m working closely with the FBI; they’ve been most cooperative. We’ve identified Elaine’s killer, an assassin named Mulvaney, also known as the Ghost, and we believe we understand his motive for killing her. She was i

Penderley said, “I knew Elaine couldn’t be involved. The Ghost, you say? I’ve heard of him. He’s a legend. He was just a kid we were told. It was rumored he was behind a series of bombings in Northern Ireland while I was in the academy. We had to work the scenes; they pulled the trainees onto the ground to support the regular coppers. I’ll never forget it. From what I know, he disappeared from the stage several years ago. It was widely assumed he was dead.”

“Apparently, he’s not dead. What else can you tell me about him?”

“There’s a dossier of information in our database, but it’s sketchy at best. He’s a dangerous man, Drummond, maybe more dangerous than you. Keep me informed. And Drummond, watch your back.”

“Will do, sir.”

He hung up. It looked like he’d have a job to return to when all was said and done, though Penderley would find a way to punish him—probably with training exercises at Hendon for six weeks—but he wouldn’t be cast out.

Mike was watching him. He gave her a mad grin.

“It’s nearly nine p.m. Let’s go see what Lanighan is up to.”

90

Paris

Avenue Foch, Saleem Lanighan’s home

Saturday night

At five minutes after nine, they heard a car start up and drive around from the garage. The door to the building opened and Lanighan came out. He looked angry. They watched him get into the waiting car and slam the door. The wheels on the Mercedes squealed as the car whipped away from the curve. What had him so pissed off?

Nicholas gave them a moment to put some distance between them, then pulled out after him.

“Keep an eye on them, Mike, they’re going fast.”

They were circling around the Arc de Triomphe now.

She said, “There they are, turning to the right. Let me count, fifth turn off the roundabout, onto the Champs-Élysées.”

Nicholas downshifted instead of braking as the car flew out onto the street behind the Mercedes. He could see it up ahead, nearly a quarter of a mile down the street. He floored the gas pedal, and the Peugeot leapt forward.

Mike said, “He’s headed east. Gagny is his biggest holding, and the only one east of the city. That must be where he’s going.”

“I’ll lay back a bit. Is he using his mobile?”

She checked the computer in her lap. “I’ve tapped into the wire Savich has on his phone. No outgoing calls.”

“I’m sure that will change.”

Ten minutes into the drive, the tracker on Lanighan’s mobile lit up.

“Got one. Outgoing, from Lanighan.” Mike turned up the volume on her laptop. Lanighan’s voice was scratchy.

Is everything prepared?

It is.

Is the bitch there yet with the stone?

Not yet. She’ll come. She wants her money too much to betray you. It’s all she ever cared about. Relax. How long until you arrive?

Thirty minutes, no longer.

I’ll be waiting.

The mobile went dead.

Mike’s cell phone rang almost immediately.

“Hey, Dillon. You guys get that?”

“We did. The call was made to the same phone signal we have on record here. Lanighan was talking to the Ghost, William Mulvaney.”

Mike said, “So who’s he working with? Lanighan or the Fox?”

Nicholas said, “Well, we’re going to find out soon enough. Savich, is Menard set up to meet us at Gagny warehouse?”

“Yes. He has a team with him.”

Nicholas said, “Be sure to tell them to stay well back until we signal for them. We’re going to go in first and see what’s happening. We don’t need this blowing up in our faces and turning into a bloodbath.”

“Be careful,” Savich said, and hung up.

“He’s not going to be alone, Nicholas. We need Menard and his men.”

He didn’t argue with her. “I have no issue with having Menard’s men backing us up. But the last thing I want is a massive show of force before we know what’s happening inside that warehouse.”

Nicholas lagged back, and Mike couldn’t see the Mercedes anymore. He shut off the lights, let the moon guide him. “When Mulvaney talked about the Fox, he sounded bitter, maybe angry. I wonder what that’s all about.”

Five minutes later, they could see the road dead-end at a large gate, topped with a camera.

Mike said, “Stop here. We don’t want to a