Chương 10
Drugged.
But anyone hearing only this recording would not know that.
Antoine said, “She also drinks more than she admits.”
I almost laughed.
That one was clumsy.
I had never been much of a drinker.
Florent turned toward his father sharply.
Even through the camera, I saw the annoyance.
Too much.
Antoine had overplayed it.
That tiny crack helped.
They were not perfectly synchronized.
They were scared too.
Laurent pressed the intercom.
“For clarity, Mrs. Delorme has reported possible involuntary drugging.”
Silence outside.
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Florent’s face emptied.
Florence stepped back.
Antoine looked at his son.
Laurent continued.
“She has also made a specific allegation of intended physical harm.”
Florent recovered first.
“That is insane.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Who did she accuse?”
Laurent did not answer.
Florent laughed softly.
“Me?”
No answer.
“My parents?”
Florence said, “Oh, for God’s sake.”
She sounded offended now.
Authentically offended.
I wondered whether that was performance or whether people capable of murder could still feel insulted by being accused of it.
Perhaps they could.
People had always contained more contradiction than I liked.
Florent placed one palm against the door.
“Let me speak to her.”
“No.”
“This is my marriage.”
Laurent replied, “This is now a safety matter.”
Florent’s jaw flexed.
Then he stepped away from the camera.
He spoke to Antoine.
The microphone barely caught it.
“Call Paris.”
Antoine took out his phone.
Laurent immediately looked at Elias.
“Can they get external signal?”
“Satellite guest voice is still active.”
“Disable outgoing passenger calls.”
Elias hesitated.
“Can we legally do that?”
Laurent looked at him.
“Now you’re worried about procedure?”
“I like employment.”
“Disable it.”
Elias moved.
Seconds later Antoine stared at his phone.
He tried again.
Then he looked toward the camera.
“Captain.”
Laurent did not respond.
“You cut communications.”
“Yes.”
“That is unlawful.”
“Possibly.”
Elias muttered, “Good answer.”
Antoine struck the door with the flat of his hand.
“Restore them.”
“No.”
Florence began speaking rapidly to Florent.
I could not hear everything.
One phrase came through.
“She knows about Courchevel.”
My blood chilled.
Florent turned on her.
“Stop talking.”
The words came sharp enough for the microphone.
Florence froze.
Antoine looked at her.
Florent looked up at the camera.
For the first time, genuine fear crossed his face.
Not concern.
Not calculation.
Fear.
He knew the phrase had been recorded.
Elias whispered, “That matters.”
“Yes,” Laurent said.
Outside, Florent grabbed his mother’s arm and pulled her farther down the corridor.
Antoine followed.
They disappeared from the camera.
The bridge became suddenly quiet.
I realized I was shaking.
Laurent handed me water.
This time I drank without arguing.
Elias said, “We have them discussing Courchevel.”
“Not enough,” Laurent replied.
“It corroborates her account.”
“It corroborates that Courchevel means something.”
“Which is better than nothing.”
Laurent nodded.
“Yes.”
I said, “Can they destroy evidence?”
“Of course.”
“What evidence would they have?”
“That depends on how competent they are.”
I looked toward the door.
“Florent is competent.”
The words hurt.
I had once been proud of that.
My husband remembered names, numbers, schedules, weaknesses.
He never lost documents.
Never missed flights.
Never forgot promises.
I had mistaken efficiency for reliability.
Maybe it had always been both.
Laurent said, “Then assume he is destroying whatever he can.”
I stood.
“We need my cabin.”
“No.”
“My laptop is there.”
“Absolutely not.”
“My laptop has access to the family office.”
“So does your phone when connected.”
“My laptop also has the scanned wedding documents.”
Laurent looked at me.
“The papers Florent gave you?”
“I photographed them.”
Elias frowned.
“You said you didn’t read them.”
“I didn’t.”
“Why photograph them?”
“My assistant trained me to scan everything I sign.”
“That is the first useful rich-person habit I’ve heard all day.”
I almost smiled.
Laurent did not.
“Where is the laptop?”
“In the desk drawer.”
“Locked?”
“The drawer, yes.”
“Key?”
“Digital code.”
“Does Florent know it?”
“No.”
I paused.
“I don’t think so.”
Laurent looked at Elias.
“Can we send someone?”
“Marc.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Marc already thinks this is nonsense.”
Elias nodded.
“Fair.”
“Sofia?”
“She’s galley.”
“Mateo?”
“Too visible.”
I said, “I can go.”
Both men answered at once.
“No.”
I glared at them.
“It’s my cabin.”
Laurent said, “And Antoine was just inside it.”
“He left.”
“That does not make it safe.”
“What if Florent gets the computer first?”
“He may already have it.”
“Then every minute matters.”
Laurent’s jaw tightened.
I saw the argument happening behind his eyes.
He did not want a passenger moving through the vessel.
He also did not want potentially critical evidence destroyed.
Finally he said, “You do not go alone.”
Elias immediately said, “I’ll take her.”
Laurent looked at him.
“You’re not security.”
“No one here is security.”
That shut the conversation down.
Laurent took a portable radio from the charger.
“Channel six.”
Elias clipped it to his belt.
“If I call once, return immediately.”
“What if we can’t?”
“Then call twice.”
“What happens at twice?”
Laurent’s expression became unpleasant.
“I make the entire vessel aware that we have an emergency.”
I understood.
Public attention.
Witnesses.
Chaos.
Not ideal, but harder to control.
Elias opened a side locker and took out a waterproof crew jacket for me.
“Put this on.”
“Why?”
“So from the far end of a corridor you look like crew.”
“It says ENGINEERING across the back.”
“Even better.”
I put it on.
It smelled faintly of detergent and diesel.
Laurent unlocked the bridge door only after checking every nearby camera.
“Three minutes.”
Elias said, “That is optimistic.”
“Then disappoint me efficiently.”
We stepped into the corridor.
The door locked behind us.
The yacht rolled beneath my feet.
The weather had worsened enough that walking required attention.
Elias moved slightly ahead of me.
We took the service stairs down.
Voices carried from the salon.
Florence was talking loudly now.
Not crying.
Complaining.
“She is unstable.”
I stopped.
Elias turned.
I raised one finger.
We listened.
May you like
Antoine answered, “Lower your voice.”
“She heard us.”
