The general raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you be so kind as to explain what I have to do with this cops-and-robbers business?’
Frank leaned over the table, opened the yellow envelope and pulled out the photograph of McCormack that Cooper had sent him, the picture taken in the New York bar. He pushed it over to Parker. It reminded him of the night of Mosse’s arrest, when he had shown him the picture of Roby Stricker.
‘May I introduce the late Hudson McCormack, legal representative of Osmond Larkin and the last victim of the serial killer Jean-Loup Verdier, better known as No One.’
‘I only recognize him because I saw his picture in the paper,’ the old man said, shooting a glance at the photo and then raising his eyes. ‘I never knew he existed before that.’
‘Really? Strange, general. See the person with his back to McCormack? You can’t see his face, but the bar is full of mirrors.’ Frank’s voice changed, as if he were musing over something. ‘You have no idea how important mirrors are in this whole story. Mirrors have a terrible tendency of reflecting what’s in front of them.’
‘I know how mirrors work. Every time I look in one, I see the person who’s going to reduce you to dust.’
Frank smiled in conciliation. ‘May I commend your sense of humour, general? It’s more than I can say for your strategic ability and choice of men, however. As I said, the bar where this photo was taken is full of mirrors. With the help of a talented, very talented young man, I managed to figure out who is the person sitting at the table with Hudson McCormack. All the young man did was enlarge the reflection in the mirrors. And just take a look at who he is.’
Frank took another picture from the envelope and threw it on the table without even looking at it. This time, Parker picked up the photo and stared at it for a long time.
‘You can’t really say that Captain Ryan Mosse was photogenic. But you didn’t need a fashion model, did you, Parker? You needed someone exactly like the captain: a borderline psychopath who was loyal to the point of fanaticism. Someone willing to kill anyone you told him to.’ He leaned in towards Nathan Parker. ‘General, does your surprised expression mean that you deny the person in that picture with Hudson McCormack is Ryan Mosse?’
‘No, of course I don’t. It’s definitely Captain Mosse. But this picture only proves that he knew the lawyer in question. What does that have to do with me?’
‘We’re getting there, general. We’re getting there.’
This time, it was Frank who looked at his watch. And without having to move it away to see it.
‘We’ll have to get there quickly. Your plane’s due to depart soon, so I’ll summarize. Here’s how things went. You and Mosse came to an agreement with Laurent Bedon, director at Radio Monte Carlo. The poor guy needed money desperately and it couldn’t have been hard to convince him. You gave him piles of money in exchange for any information he could find out about the investigation. A spy, like in any war. That’s why, when we suspected that Roby Stricker might be the next victim after the killer’s phone call, Mosse was already there, outside Stricker’s apartment building. Then Stricker was killed and I got ahead of myself and slipped up. I forgot the first rule of a cop: examine everything from every angle. Ironic, isn’t it? A reflection in the mirror helped Nicolas Hulot realize who the real killer was and the same detail helped me realize it too. Funny how simple things look, in retrospect.’
Frank rubbed his face with his hands. He was beginning to feel all his aches and scratches from his adventure on the cliff, but it wasn’t the moment to feel sorry for himself, not yet. When it was over, he would have all the time in the world to relax. And in the right company.
‘You must have felt a little lost with your stooge in jail, didn’t you? You didn’t need that at all. When we finally realized who No One was, Mosse was proven innocent and released from prison. You must have been a mite relieved. Nothing lost. You still had all the time you needed to solve your personal problems, and you even got a stroke of luck.’
Frank had to admire Nathan Parker’s self-control. After his initial furious outburst, he was now sitting impassively in front of him, not batting an eye. There must have been many people in his past who had met him and decided not to take him on as an enemy. But Frank had crossed his path and now he couldn’t wait to get rid of him.
He felt no elation, just a profound emptiness. He was surprised to realize that his real desire was not simply to beat him. What he wanted more than anything was never to see him again. He continued listing the facts.
‘Let me tell you exactly what that stroke of luck was. No One was identified but he managed to escape. You must have had a hard time believing it. Captain Mosse was back and the killer was hidden out there somewhere, outsmarting the police and free to kill again.’
He looked at the backs of his hands and remembered a time not long ago when they always trembled. Now his hands were firm, strong. He could make a fist with the knowledge that General Parker was crushed.
‘Not long after, No One called Agent Frank Ottobre again. But not the usual way. This time, he called from a mobile phone, without masking his voice. Why should he bother, after all? Everyone knew who he was: Jean-Loup Verdier, the deejay of Radio Monte Carlo. Just an anonymous phone left on a bench in Nice. We traced it through a satellite system and found it easily. No prints on the phone, except those of the boy who had found it. And that was strange.’ He shot a glance at Parker as if he didn’t know the answer to his own question.
‘Why did No One bother rubbing off the fingerprints when we knew who he was? I didn’t pay much attention to it then, partly because we were thinking about what the phone call meant. The killer told us that he was planning more murders, regardless of the fact that the police were looking for him. And that’s what he did. Hudson McCormack was found dead right in front of the Sûreté headquarters, in Jean-Loup Verdier’s car with his face skinned off. The world was horrified at this new killing. Everyone wondered the same thing. Why couldn’t the police catch this monster who went on killing unchecked and then disappeared like a ghost?’
Frank got up from the couch. He was so tired that he was surprised his joints didn’t audibly creak. His knee, though, had strangely stopped bothering him. He took a few steps around the room and went to stand behind the general who was sitting motionless in the armchair. The man didn’t even turn to follow him with his eyes.
‘I think it was Laurent Bedon’s death that aroused my suspicion. A mere accident, a man killed in an everyday, botched robbery. Suspicions are like crumbs in your bed, general. You can’t sleep until you get rid of them. That’s how it started, with the death of that poor fool Bedon. That’s why I checked out the photos my friend sent and discovered that the man sitting in the bar in New York with Hudson McCormack was Ryan Mosse. And that’s why I had the same person examine the tape of the phone call that I received from No One. You know what we discovered? Let me tell you, even though you already know. We found that it was a piece of editing work. The things you can do with technology today. It’s a great help, though, if you use it with a grain of salt, cum grano salis, if you don’t mind a little Latin.’
Parker didn’t flinch. Frank was warming to his story now.
‘We listened to the message word by word and we found that some of them were repeated several times: “moon”, “dog”, “speak to me”. Analysis of the intonation showed that every word was repeated twice in exactly the same way. The voice graph of each word when placed one on top of the other matched perfectly. I’m told that can’t happen, just like no two snowflakes or fingerprints can be identical. Which means that the words were taken and spliced on a tape, one after the other until the desired message was obtained. And that was the tape used for the phone call.’ Frank came round to face the general again. ‘It was Laurent, wasn’t it? He’s the one who gave you the recordings of Jean-Loup’s voice so that you had enough material to edit that tape. What else is there to say?’
Frank went on as if what he was about
to say was completely unnecessary, like someone explaining the obvious to someone who refuses to understand. All the while he walked slowly around the room to aid his concentration.
‘After the phone call, Mosse went to Jean-Loup Verdier’s house. He took the car, killed Hudson McCormack, and gave him the same treatment that No One used on his victims. Then Mosse left the car and the corpse near police headquarters.’ Frank stopped in front of Parker. He did so deliberately, to force the old man to raise his head and look at him as he drew his conclusions. Just then, in that anonymous airport lounge, he was the judge and jury and his verdict was final.
‘And that was your real aim, Parker. You wanted to eliminate any connection between the heroic, powerful General Nathan Parker and the Larkin brothers whom you supplied with cover and protection in exchange for a sizeable percentage of the profits. I’ll bet that every time General Parker took part in a war somewhere in the world, he didn’t just protect the interests of his country. No, he took advantage of the situation to protect his own interests. I don’t know why and I don’t give a damn. That’s for you and your conscience to sort out, although I’m not sure you have one.’
Frank was like a hunter with a stag in his crosswires.
‘McCormack, your contact with Osmond Larkin, was just a fool in a game that was too big for him, and he could have made a lot of trouble if he decided to talk. And he would have, to protect his own hide if things started going badly. He was killed in mimicry of the serial killer’s modus operandi so it looked like another of his victims. Even if No One had been caught and declared he was not guilty of that particular murder, who would have believed him? The answer makes me laugh: no one. Maybe McCormack had brought you a message from his client. Actually, tell me if I’m wrong, but I would guess that Osmond Larkin threatened to start talking if you didn’t get him out of jail right away. The fact that he was killed during an ordinary prison fight might only be a coincidence, but there have been far too many coincidences in this story.’
Frank sat back down on the couch, looking at his adversary with the expression of a man who is surprised by his own words.
‘Lots of coincidences, right? Like Rouget, the owner of the house you rented. When you were leaving, the old guy must have told you about the nuclear bunker that his sister-in-law had forced his brother to build. You realized that was where Jean-Loup Verdier must have been hiding and you left Mosse to take care of him. All you had to do was get rid of the last witness and everything would be sweet as pie.’
He paused as a flicker of a smile crossed his face. ‘Want to know something funny?’
‘No, but I suspect you’re going to tell me anyway.’
‘You bet I am. Just before I came here, I found out that the delinquent who bumped off Laurent Bedon has been arrested. He’s just a small-time punk who rolled people coming out of the casinos.’
‘And the funny thing?’
‘The funny thing is that my suspicions started with the only death in all this that seems to be accidental and not really a murder. A crime that at first I blamed on you and of which you are completely innocent. I call that funny.’
Parker sat there a moment as if he were thinking over everything Frank had just said. Frank had no illusions. It was just a pause, not a surrender. The general was a chess player taking his time after his opponent had said ‘check’. He gestured vaguely with his hand.
‘This is all just conjecture. You can’t actually prove what you’ve just said.’
And that was the move the FBI man had been expecting. He knew that the general wasn’t all wrong. Although Frank was holding a number of important pieces, the lack of definitive evidence would make it hard to force checkmate. The witnesses were all dead and the only one still alive, Jean-Loup Verdier, was destined for an asylum and not exactly reliable. But this was his attack, and the general would have to marshall his assets expertly to resist its force. He shrugged.
‘Maybe I can. Or maybe not. You’ve got enough money to pay a pack of lawyers to get you out of trouble and keep you out of jail. But a scandal is a different story. Lack of evidence will keep you out of a jail cell, but it won’t prevent people from doubting you. Just think . . . would the President of the United States still want the opinion of a military adviser suspected of drug trafficking?’
General Parker looked at him for a long time and didn’t answer. He ran his hand through his short, white hair. His blue eyes had lost their warrior spark and he was finally an old man. But his voice was still strong.
‘I think I know what you’re getting at.’
‘Do you?’
‘If you didn’t want anything from me, you’d already have told the FBI. You wouldn’t have come here alone. You’d be here with the entire police force. So have the courage to be explicit.’
Frank could see that Parker’s reputation was well deserved. He knew he was in a corner but, like all soldiers worthy of the name, he could see a way out and was taking advantage of it.
‘I’ll be more than explicit, general. I’ll be brutally honest. If it were up to me, I’d take no pity on you whatsoever. I think you’re a piece of shit and I would gladly drop you into a sea of sharks. That’s exactly what I would do. I once told you that every man has his price and you just didn’t understand mine. Here’s my price: Helena and Stuart in exchange for my silence.’ Frank was quiet for a moment. ‘As you can see, general, you were right about something. Somehow, we’re made of the same stuff, you and I.’
The old man bent his head. ‘And if I . . .’
Frank shook his head. ‘My offer’s not negotiable. Take it or leave it. And that’s not all.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that, now that you’re going back to the States, you’ll realize that you’re too old and tired. You’ll resign from your role as a military consultant, and withdraw from public life. People will advise you against it, but you’ll be adamant. It’s only fair that a distinguished soldier like you, someone who has given so much to his country, a father who has suffered so, should be allowed to enjoy the time he has left in peace.’
Parker stared at him in frank amazement.
‘And you’ll let me go? Without doing anything? Where’s your conscience, Agent Ottobre?’
‘Same place as yours. But mine sure weighs a lot less.’
The silence that fell between them was eloquent. There was nothing more to say. Just then, with the perfect timing of fate, the door opened and Stuart’s head peeked through.
‘Oh, Stuart. Come on in. Our conversation is over.’
Stuart ran in, followed by Helena’s slight figure. The boy didn’t understand, and she couldn’t make the leap. It was Nathan Parker who indirectly gave her the news, speaking to the boy who thought he was his grandfather instead of really his father. The old man knelt down before him without any apparent effort and put his hands on his shoulders.
‘Okay, Stuart. There has been a change of plans. Remember when I told you we had to go right back to the States?’
The boy nodded, reminding Frank of Pierrot’s naive way of communicating. The general pointed to Frank.
‘Well, after talking to this friend of mine for a while, I don’t think there’s any need for you and your mother to go back yet. I’ve got lots of things to do at home and we wouldn’t be able to see each other very much for a while in any case. Would you like to stay here and take a longer vacation?’
‘Really, grandpa? Could we go to Disneyland in Paris?’ The boy’s eyes widened, incredulous. Parker glanced at Frank who lowered his eyelids in agreement.
‘Sure. Disneyland and many other places.’
Stuart raised his arms above his head and shouted, ‘Hurray!’ He ran to embrace his mother who hugged him with a face sculpted in astonishment. Her stunned gaze passed from Frank to Parker, like someone receiving good news that was hard to absorb.
‘Mommy, we’re staying here. Grandpa said so. We’re going to Disneyland, to Disneyland, to Disneyland . . .’ br />
Helena put a hand on his head, trying to calm him, but Stuart was relentless. He started dancing around the room, repeating the words like an endless nursery rhyme. There was a knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ said Parker, standing up. Until then, he had been watching Stuart’s joyfulness from his kneeling position. For Frank it was fitting. He was a man who had been humbled.
Froben’s face appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh, excuse me.’
‘Come in, Froben.’
The inspector looked understandably embarrassed. He saw with relief that the atmosphere was tense but not hostile. Not any more, at least. He turned to Parker.
‘General, excuse me for the inconvenience and the unforgivable wait. I wanted to tell you that your flight has been called. We have just put the coffin on board and your luggage.’
‘Thank you, inspector. There have been some last-minute changes. My daughter and grandson will be staying here. If you would be so kind as to board my bags and leave the others here, I would be most grateful. They’re easy to recognize: light blue Samsonites.’
‘It’s the least I can do, general.’ Froben bent his head. He reminded Frank of someone emerging unscathed from a car accident.
‘Thank you. I’ll be right there.’
‘Gate nineteen.’
Parker turned back to Stuart. ‘Okay, I have to go. You be good. Roger?’ The boy snapped to attention and saluted as if it were an old game they shared. Parker opened the door and left without a look or a word for his daughter. Frank went over to Helena and caressed her cheek with his hand. He would have faced an army of Parkers for the look in her eyes.
‘How did you do it?’
Frank smiled. ‘All in good time. I still have something left to do. I’ll only be a couple of minutes. I need to check one last thing.’
He left the room and looked for Nathan Parker. He saw him walking down the hallway next to Froben who was escorting him to the gate. He reached them an instant before the general turned to board the plane. He was the last passenger. His privileged status had given him a little extra time.