FIFTY-NINE
The pain was unreal. Leopold had been shot before, but it had never felt like this. Not even close. The round hit home like a sledgehammer, like running into a brick wall at fifty miles per hour. Nothing at first, then the nerve endings caught up and unleashed hell. His brain screamed with electric fury, but he kept his mouth clamped shut.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” said Harris, lowering the revolver. The barrel was smoking in a way that Leopold thought only ever happened in the movies. “Try to relax. This will all be over soon. I just had to make it look a little more… realistic first.”
Leopold fought to see through the tears and noticed Harris pick up the German’s pistol. He tossed the weapon at floor where Leopold was kneeling.
“I’m really not much of a marksman,” said Harris. “You came at me with a gun and I panicked. Hit you in the shoulder before putting you down for good.” He looked down at the gun. “Pick it up. Or I’ll shoot you in the other shoulder.”
Leopold complied, using his good arm. The pain was still too intense to come up with an alternative.
“Good. And before you get any bright ideas, I haven’t loaded it yet. I want you to look me in the eyes; I want you to fully understand everything that’s happening to you, and I want you to know that there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. It’s a lesson you should have learned years ago.” He pulled back the hammer.
The pain in Leopold’s shoulder peaked. His whole upper arm felt as though it was going to fall off, but he could feel his other senses start to return after the initial shock of the impact. It was painful, but bearable. He looked up at Harris.
“Something to say, Blake? Better make it quick.”
Leopold managed a weak smile. “There’s just one thing,” he said. “Can you hear that noise?”
Harris aimed the gun at Leopold’s forehead. “What noise?”
“When I got here, the entire floor was packed full of people. The sound of printers and telephones, of people walking about. People having conversations.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A couple of minutes ago it went quiet. Unfortunately, I think you were a little busy concentrating on your evil genius speech at the time. I’m glad I remembered to ask all the right questions.” Leopold smiled. “Bad guys always love to talk. It’s great when you need a little extra time.”
“Get to the point, Blake.” He spoke through his teeth.
“What would cause an entire floor full of people to fall silent? Either they’ve all gone home early, or someone else shut them up. Which do you think is more likely?”
Harris didn’t reply.
Leopold winced as he shifted his weight. His legs had gone numb from kneeling on the floor. “Do you know how effective police scanning and tracking technologies are these days?” he continued. “They can pinpoint the location of any wireless radio device to within a few feet. A device like that, for example.” He nodded at the broken remains of Sophie’s cell phone. “Now, I’ll ask again: just who do you suppose would cause an entire floor full of people to go completely quiet?”
Harris twitched.
“I’ll give you a clue: it’s probably not the janitor.” Leopold sucked in a deep breath as a wave of pain hit him again. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. “Which is probably bad news for you.”
“These are your last words Blake, I suggest you use them well.”
“There are people looking for me, Harris. They know where I am. They know you’re here with me. There might be someone on the other side of that door right now, waiting for his moment to burst in. If you kill me, the chances of you walking out of this building alive drop to zero. Do the smart thing. Walk away.”
Stepping forward, Harris pressed the barrel of the gun against Leopold’s forehead and smiled. “Nice try,” he said. “It’s a pity you’ll never know how this worked out. Maybe in another life we could have been partners in this.” He paused. “Goodbye, Mr. Blake.”
Leopold saw Harris squeeze the trigger.
He closed his eyes.
The sound of the gunshot was overwhelming; it ripped through his eardrums and rattled inside his skull, flaring up the pain he had tried to push to the back of his mind. As the initial shock subsided and his higher senses returned, Leopold wondered how he had managed to hear the shot at all – he should have been dead before his brain had even processed the sound.
He opened his eyes slowly. There was Harris, standing as before with the revolver held in one hand, aimed directly at Leopold’s head. There was a look of surprise on his face, a mix of shock and disbelief. His eyes were rolled upward, as though trying to focus on something in the air above him.
Then Leopold saw it. In the center of Harris’ forehead, a small red dot. It was dripping with something. Leopold blinked and tried to focus. A quiet gurgle escaped from Harris’ mouth and then he toppled backward, falling stiff and upright like a felled tree. He hit the floor hard and didn’t make another sound. There was movement behind him.
“Looks like this is the end of the road for you, Monsieur Blake.” A rough voice said with a heavy French accent.
Leopold turned his head and saw a figure in the doorway, holding something in front of him in both hands. The consultant couldn’t quite make it out. His vision started to fade, rings of red and black forming in front of his eyes.
“You’re bleeding badly,” said the voice. “Can you stand?”
The words echoed and melded together. Leopold felt the world spin and the pain in his shoulder fade away. He felt his body hit the floor in slow motion. Just before he lost consciousness, he saw the figure in the doorway walk toward him.
Then darkness.
SIXTY
Leopold could hear the low hum of the air conditioning systems and it took a moment for him to realize where he was. There was something tugging at the skin at the crease of his elbow. He was lying on something soft. Leopold opened his eyes and winced as a bright light hit his pupils. He turned his head to look at his injured shoulder and found it cleaned and bandaged. There was a familiar hospital smell.
“Welcome back to the real world, Monsieur Blake,” said a voice he recognized.
Leopold blinked and looked around. The privacy curtain twitched and Capitaine Rousseau of the Paris police stepped through. He stood next to Leopold’s bed and looked down with a passive expression.
“You lost quite a lot of blood, I’m afraid,” the captain said. “The doctors performed a transfusion and put you on a saline drip. You’ve been asleep for the last eight hours.”
Leopold sat up and found that both his wrists had been handcuffed to the bed rails. His mouth was dry and scratchy.
“You might find it hard to move around with those on,” said Rousseau. “They said you might feel a little nauseous. Here, drink this.” The captain held a paper cup of water up to his lips.
Gulping down the cold liquid, Leopold felt a little energy return. “Where’s Mary?”
“She’s fine. Mlle. Bardot as well.”
“I need to speak to them.”
“I’m afraid the only person you’ll be speaking to will be your lawyer.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What about Harris?”
“I saw him, and I stopped him. But you still have a lot to answer for. And I never got the chance to read you your rights before you passed out.”
“This is ridiculous. I want to –”
“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. You have… wait, that’s not it.” Rousseau scratched his chin. “Let me start again. You have the right to stay in bed… no, that’s not it, either.”
“Maybe I can help.” Another familiar voice from behind the curtain.
Leopold saw the material twitch again and Mary swept through, a giant grin plastered on her face. Jerome followed behind, his burly frame blocking out most of the light. Mary laughed as she stepped up nex
t to Rousseau.
“I’m sorry, I just really had to see your face,” she said, still grinning from ear to ear. “Once we caught up with super-cop here, I showed him all the things we found on the safe house computer and at Dubois’ place.”
Jerome nodded. “We also got that report through on the victims from the Notre Dame shooting and some very interesting testimony from the prison warden. We’re all in the clear; no charges are being brought.”
“They should have just left you in prison,” said Leopold.
“Je suis désolé, I’m sorry – but it was too tempting to resist,” said Rousseau, also smiling. “We have enough evidence to pin this on Harris. There was another man too, a German, who we weren’t able to find. We have Interpol running a search for suspects matching his description.”
“What do you know about him?”
Rousseau scratched his stubble. “Not a lot. I imagine he changes identity and appearance for each job that he takes. And when I say ‘job,’ I think you know what I mean.”
“From the look of his victims, I’d say the man has some serious skills,” said Jerome. “I’d like to have the opportunity to meet him some day.” He turned to Rousseau. “And when I say ‘meet,’ I think you know what I mean.”
“The NYPD will help in any way we can,” said Mary. “I’m sure Leopold will have a word with the FBI.”
“Speaking of victims,” said Leopold. “What came back in the report?”
Mary looked at Rousseau. “The young woman, the lawyer. She was hired by Blake Investments to handle the corporate handover after you were forced to step away from the research company,” she said.
“Harris apparently paid her to change a few of the clauses in the contracts. It effectively gave him full control if anything ever happened to you,” said Jerome.
“We ran her bank accounts,” said Rousseau. “A single payment of forty thousand Euros was made to her around the time of the transfer. We also found a deposit from the same account listed against Jean Dubois’ recent transactions. Over a hundred thousand Euros.”
“And what about the other victims? The other three people?” asked Leopold.
“Camouflage,” said the captain. “To keep us from discovering the connection. If you hadn’t been looking at this with your lives on the line… well, we probably wouldn’t have caught it ourselves.”
“Let’s just be grateful my contact dug a little deeper.” Leopold tugged on his handcuffs. “How about getting me out of these? We’ve got to stop the sale of Chemworks before the transfer papers go through. I don’t know what kind of buyers Harris had lined up, but I’ll bet he didn’t worry too much about vetting them.”
Mary and Rousseau looked at each other.
“What is it?”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” said Rousseau. “The sale of Chemworks went through while you were unconscious. The contracts were ironclad; even if you had been there, you wouldn’t have been able to stop it.” He shrugged. “On the plus side, you seem to have been paid a very good price for your shares.”
Leopold felt his stomach clench. “Who bought it?”
Mary folded her arms. “A company called INGX, whatever the hell that stands for. It’s a shell corporation, what looks like a business structure set up to funnel cash away from the tax authorities. We can trace the parent company or subsidiary, but INGX is registered in Switzerland, so we have no jurisdiction. It might take some time.”
“I’ll send the details to the usual guy to check out,” said Jerome. “He should be able to trace the parent company a little faster than the NYPD or Interpol.” He looked at the two cops. “No offense.”
“That’s not exactly an encouraging sign,” said Leopold. “Any company that goes to those lengths to protect its identity isn’t exactly going to be Charity of the Year, is it? If Harris was telling the truth about the results Chemworks was seeing…” he trailed off.
Mary frowned and took out her cell phone. “Thanks for getting this back to me, Captain,” she said, tapping the screen. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. I think I need to make a phone call. It looks like I might owe someone an apology.” She turned and walked out of the room.
“Her sister,” said Leopold, in response to a quizzical look from Rousseau. “Works for the WHO. Apparently, they’ve been keeping an eye on Chemworks for a few years now. Definitely not my biggest fan, that one.”
Jerome smiled. “You can’t blame her for that.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said Rousseau. “This is my cue to leave, I think. I have a stack of paperwork waiting for me and a family to look after. If you decide to stay in Paris a few more days. Please try not to get into any more trouble.”
Leopold and Jerome looked at each other. Neither replied.
“I thought as much. Just try to keep away from my side of town, d’accord? Okay?” Rousseau tipped an imaginary cap and sauntered out of the room, mumbling something to himself as he went.
“Where’s Sophie?” asked Leopold.
“Outside, getting something to eat,” said Jerome. “She said there was just one more thing she wanted to show us. Seemed pretty excited about it.”
“We should probably get going then. I assume I’m fit to be discharged?”
“Sure. Just a little scratch, that’s all. I don’t know why you always make such a habit of passing out.”
“Pardon me. I didn’t realize I’d become so predictable,” said Leopold.
“Maybe we can work on it for next time.”
“There’s going to be a next time?”
“Of course. I don’t think this story’s over quite yet. Now, are you coming or not?”
Leopold sighed. “I’d love to. There’s just one thing.” He tugged at his handcuffs again. “I might need a little help with these.”
SIXTY-ONE
The sun was going down. Fat and pink, it sank slowly over the horizon and cast the city skyline in sharp relief against the white clouds gathering overhead. On the second level of the Eiffel Tower, four hundred feet above the ground, Leopold looked out over Paris as the evening chill began to set in. The wind picked up, whipping about his head, and he pulled his jacket around him a little tighter.
“What do you think?” a soft voice asked.
Sophie appeared from behind the corner and took Leopold’s arm.
“It’s quite extraordinary,” said Leopold.
“Sorry it’s a little cold. You get the best view on this level, even better than the viewing platform at the top. But you have to be outside.”
Leopold nodded, wishing he’d brought a coat. “Thanks for showing it to me.”
Sophie smiled. “We’re not here just for you.” She waved at Mary and Jerome, who were trying to find a coffee stand that was still serving. They made their way over, weaving through the sparse crowd of tourists who still remained.
“What do I have to do to get an espresso around here?” asked Mary, shivering. “It’s freezing cold and I’m seriously jonesing for a caffeine fix. And I don’t think I’ve tried so much as a croissant since I got here.”
“I keep telling her you can’t get a decent cup of coffee in Paris,” said Jerome. “I think she’s determined to prove me wrong.”
“Whatever. I just need to eat, that’s all.”
“Relax, relax,” said Sophie. “It’s a beautiful evening and there are a hundred restaurants nearby that serve the best food you have ever tasted. For now, why not just enjoy the moment, just get lost in it. Come here,” she let go of Leopold’s arm and waved Mary over. “Just look out at the city. I promise you’ll feel better.”
Mary did as suggested and took a spot next to Leopold, up against the railings.
Sophie looked up at Jerome. “Maybe you and I should go find somewhere we can get a hot drink?”
“I think that’s probably a good idea,” he replied with the slightest trace of a grin.
The two of them walked off toward the elevators.
&n
bsp; “What do you think that was all about?” said Mary, putting both hands on the iron rails. She let out a deep sigh and looked out over the horizon. “Wow, this place really is amazing.”
Leopold felt his ears start to get hot, despite the chilly wind. “Yeah, I guess it is. I suppose when you’ve been used to seeing something like this for so long,” he gestured at the sunset, “you start taking it for granted. Sometimes you need someone to remind you what’s right in front of you.” He looked at her. “You know what I mean?”
She smiled and looked back. “You know, until today I probably would have thought you were getting sentimental on me, Leopold. But now, I have to admit I’m inclined to agree.” She tilted her head. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“We’ve known each other a long time. I can read you like a book.”
“I’ll have to be more careful.”
Mary turned her body to face him. “It’s not a bad thing, Leopold. It means we’re good partners. What’s on your mind?”
“We’re partners now are we?”
“Just answer the question, smartass.”
He grinned, not feeling the cold quite so much any more. “With everything that’s happened since you met me, all the close calls and near misses, do you think there will ever be an end to it all?”
“Like, do I think you’ll ever learn to settle down?” She punched him playfully on the arm. “That doesn’t sound like the Leopold Blake I know.”
He forced a smile. “No, I mean: do you ever think people will stop coming at me? Stop trying to destroy the people I care about?”
“It’s been getting worse, hasn’t it?” She didn’t phrase it as a question.
“Yes.”
“This Chemworks business. Is it really as big a threat as Kate thinks it is?”
He paused. “Yes.”
“What the hell were you mixed up in, Leopold?”
“I told you, I had no idea. The law was designed to shut me out. It couldn’t be helped. Not with Harris working against me. But if someone’s willing to pay that much money for a research company that hasn’t turned a profit since it was founded…”
“Then there must be something valuable there,” she said.