Chương 11
Then her face crumpled for half a second before she controlled it.
“My mother beat me because I wouldn’t sign away Dad’s company.”
Her voice dropped.
“My sister held me down.”
Elias stayed where he was.
“And now you’re telling me one of them may have been digging into you almost two years ago.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked toward the front door.
“Then this wasn’t about last night.”
“No.”
Her phone rang.
Pauline.
Claire stared at the name.
Elias said nothing.
The call stopped.
Then immediately started again.
Claire answered.
She did not put it on speaker.
“Where are you?”
Pauline was crying so loudly Elias could hear the sound without hearing words.
Claire’s expression changed.
“What do you mean?”
She listened.
“Slow down.”
Another rush of speech.
Claire looked at Elias.
Her face went pale.
“When?”
She listened again.
“No.”
A pause.
“Pauline, listen to me.”
Her voice hardened.
“Do not go anywhere with him.”
Elias stood.
“Who?”
Claire held up one finger.
“Where are you now?”
She listened.
Then she said, “Send me your location.”
The call ended.
Elias was already reaching for his coat.
“What happened?”
Claire looked at him.
“Pauline says Vanel wasn’t working for my mother.”
“Who was he working for?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Then why is she calling?”
Claire’s phone buzzed with a location pin.
“She says he told her something before the police separated them.”
“What?”
Claire looked at the screen.
“He told her the Ghost King had finally come home.”
Elias went completely still.
Claire’s next words were barely above a whisper.
“And then he said someone had been waiting for you for seventeen years.”
Elias did not move for several seconds.
Seventeen years narrowed the possibilities.
Matteo’s voice came through the phone on the coffee table.
“Elias.”
“I heard.”
Claire watched him.
“Who was seventeen years ago?”
He looked at her.
“A lot of people.”
“That answer is getting old.”
“So am I.”
“Not funny.”
“No.”
He crossed the room and picked up the phone.
“Matteo, pull every unresolved conflict from Marseille, Tangier, and Antwerp beginning seventeen years ago.”
“I already am.”
“Prioritize anyone with reason to know my identity and enough patience to build this through Delcourt.”
“That list is not short.”
“Make it shorter.”
Claire folded her arms and immediately winced from the pressure against her ribs.
“Pauline sent her location.”
Elias looked at the pin.
A service station south of Orléans.
“That makes no sense.”
“What?”
“She was at La Bruyère when police arrived.”
“Maybe she left before they secured everyone.”
“Mercier said she wasn’t there.”
Claire stared at him.
“You think she ran.”
“I think she was gone before officers entered.”
“And now she’s at a gas station.”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“We don’t know.”
Claire picked up her coat.
Elias said, “You’re not coming.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You were hypothermic three hours ago.”
“My sister may be in danger.”
“And you may be walking into the same danger twice.”
“She called me.”
“She also hit you with a candlestick.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“Which is why I get to decide what that means.”
Elias stopped.
The old reflex in him wanted to reduce the problem to movement, vehicles, men, secured rooms, controlled entrances.
Claire was not a shipment.
She was not an asset.
She was not one more person to place behind a perimeter.
He took a breath.
“You’re right.”
She seemed almost annoyed that he had agreed.
“I’m still coming.”
“I know.”
Matteo said, “I object.”
Claire looked at the phone.
“Noted.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“You are now.”
Matteo sighed.
“I see why he married you.”
Claire said nothing to that.
Elias called Mercier while Julien brought the SUV around.
The lieutenant answered with immediate irritation.
“Please tell me you are not going to the location.”
“I’m going to the location.”
Mercier swore under his breath.
“Send me the pin.”
“I already did.”
“Yes, and we have a patrol closer than you.”
“Good.”
“You stay away until they clear it.”
Elias glanced at Claire.
“We’ll try.”
Mercier’s voice hardened.
“Mr. Morel.”
“I said we’ll try.”
“You have a talent for making simple sentences sound criminal.”
“I’ve been told.”
Claire muttered, “By everyone, probably.”
Mercier heard her.
“Mrs. Morel, please help me preserve what remains of my blood pressure.”
“I’ll do my best.”
They left the apartment at 7:42.
Claire moved more slowly now.
The pain medication had dulled the sharpness in her ribs but left her slightly heavy-eyed, and Elias noticed every time she used the wall or seat back for balance.
He kept his hands to himself unless she asked.
At the parking garage, she stopped beside the SUV.
“You have a gun?”
Elias looked at her.
“Yes.”
“On you?”
“Yes.”
“Licensed?”
“Yes.”
“Do you plan to use it?”
“No.”
She held his gaze.
“Good.”
He opened the rear door.
“I have a question.”
“What?”
“If someone shoots at us, may I revise that plan?”
Claire stared at him.
“Annoyingly, yes.”
“That felt like progress.”
“It wasn’t.”
Julien drove.
A second security vehicle followed at a distance.
Traffic thickened near the ring road, slowing them between commuters and delivery trucks.
Claire stared at the location dot on her phone.
It had not moved.
“Why seventeen years?”
Elias looked out the window.
“Because that was when I took control.”
“From whom?”
“A man named Marcel Varga.”
Claire waited.
“He ran the Marseille side of the network.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
“You killed him.”
“Yes.”
She looked back at the phone.
“Did he have family?”
“A son.”
Claire’s eyes lifted.
“Name?”
“Adrian.”
“How old?”
“Twenty when Marcel died.”
“So thirty-seven now.”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“As far as I know.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire stared at him.
“You’re telling me the son of a man you killed disappeared and nobody kept track of him?”
“He didn’t disappear.”
“He left.”
“Where?”
“Canada first.”
“And then?”
“Unknown.”
“Convenient.”
“It wasn’t important at the time.”
May you like
Her expression sharpened.
“A man whose father you killed was not important?”
