Chương 12
“Not in the way you mean.”
“What way did I mean?”
Elias looked down at his hands.
“He hated his father.”
Claire’s anger faltered.
“Why?”
“Marcel beat him.”
“And his mother?”
“Dead before I met them.”
“How?”
“Cancer.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Claire leaned back.
“So Adrian had no reason to avenge him.”
“No obvious reason.”
“That sounds like another coward’s answer.”
“It may be.”
Matteo called.
Elias put him on speaker.
“I found Adrian Varga.”
Claire looked at Elias.
“Of course you did.”
Matteo continued.
“He entered commercial risk consulting under another surname after leaving Canada.”
“What surname?”
“Valère.”
Elias frowned.
“Adrian Valère?”
“Yes.”
“Where has he worked?”
“London, Luxembourg, Brussels.”
Claire said, “Finance.”
“Mostly corporate intelligence.”
Elias felt the pattern tighten.
“Clients?”
“Private lenders, industrial companies, family offices.”
“Delcourt?”
“Not directly.”
“Northbridge?”
“Yes.”
Elias went still.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
Claire leaned forward.
“He worked for your company?”
“Contractor,” Matteo said.
“How long?”
“Nine months.”
“What did he do?”
“Due diligence.”
Elias’s voice changed.
“On borrowers.”
“Yes.”
“Could he have seen Arden?”
“Too early.”
“Could he have understood Northbridge’s processes?”
“Absolutely.”
Claire looked between the phone and Elias.
“So someone from his past learned how his lending company worked, then years later a shell company tied to my sister borrowed against my father’s business.”
Matteo said, “That is one possible chain.”
“Is Adrian in France?”
“We’re checking.”
Elias asked, “Photograph?”
“Sending now.”
The image arrived.
Adrian had dark hair going gray at the temples, close-set eyes, and the polished expression of a man used to sitting across from executives who had already told themselves he was harmless.
Claire stared at the photograph.
Her breathing stopped.
Elias saw it immediately.
“You know him.”
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I’ve seen him.”
“Where?”
She zoomed in.
“Dad’s funeral.”
Elias’s face hardened.
“You’re sure?”
“He stood near the back.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“No.”
“To Viviane?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire’s fingers trembled.
“He left before the burial.”
Matteo said, “Claire, think carefully.”
“I am.”
“Did you see him anywhere else?”
She closed her eyes.
A long silence followed.
Then she said, “The factory Christmas dinner.”
Elias turned toward her.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“What was he doing there?”
“I thought he was one of Dad’s consultants.”
“Did your father introduce him?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Claire looked sick.
“Vanel.”
The SUV slowed suddenly.
Julien spoke from the front.
“Police ahead.”
A patrol car blocked the entrance to the service station.
Another vehicle sat near the fuel pumps with blue lights flashing but no siren.
Mercier called at the same moment.
“Do not enter.”
Elias answered.
“We’re outside.”
“Stay there.”
“What happened?”
“The patrol found Pauline’s car.”
Claire leaned toward the phone.
“And Pauline?”
“Not inside.”
Her face went white.
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know.”
Elias watched officers moving around the parking area.
One stood beside a silver hatchback with the driver’s door open.
Mercier continued.
“There’s blood on the steering wheel.”
Claire’s hand flew to her mouth.
“How much?”
“Not enough for me to tell you anything useful.”
“Her phone?”
“Found under the passenger seat.”
Claire looked at the location dot on her screen.
“That’s why it didn’t move.”
Mercier said, “Exactly.”
Elias opened his door.
Julien immediately turned.
“Sir.”
“I’m not entering the scene.”
Claire grabbed Elias’s sleeve.
“Don’t leave me in the car.”
“I’m stepping out.”
“So am I.”
He looked at her.
She looked back.
He helped her from the vehicle without comment.
The winter air hit Claire hard enough that she shivered.
Elias noticed and put his coat around her shoulders.
This time she accepted it.
They stood behind the police barrier while officers searched the station building, bathrooms, and the scrubland beyond the parking lot.
Customers were redirected around them.
A truck driver argued angrily with an employee about access to the diesel pumps.
Somebody bought a sandwich inside.
Life continued with almost offensive indifference.
Claire stared at Pauline’s car.
“She hates driving that thing.”
Elias looked at her.
“What?”
“Her car.”
“She keeps complaining about the transmission.”
“That matter?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire rubbed her thumb across the edge of Elias’s coat.
“She said she was selling it.”
“To whom?”
“She never said.”
Mercier arrived eleven minutes later.
He ducked beneath the tape and walked directly toward them.
His expression told Elias there was more.
“Mrs. Morel.”
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
Claire swallowed.
“What did you find?”
“A witness.”
“Who?”
“Station cashier.”
Mercier glanced at Elias.
“He saw a woman matching Pauline’s description enter around six fifty.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“And leave?”
“He says a man joined her approximately ten minutes later.”
Claire looked at the photograph still open on her phone.
She turned it toward Mercier.
“This man?”
Mercier studied it.
“Who is he?”
“Adrian Valère.”
Elias said, “Former risk consultant with ties to one of my companies.”
Mercier’s eyebrows rose.
“And your history with him?”
“His father was Marcel Varga.”
Mercier waited.
Elias continued.
“I killed Marcel seventeen years ago.”
Claire looked away.
Mercier stared at him for a long moment.
“I’m going to need considerably more coffee.”
“I imagine.”
“Is Adrian dangerous?”
“I don’t know.”
“You killed his father.”
“He hated his father.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No.”
Mercier took the photograph.
“I’ll show this to the witness.”
He returned toward the station.
Claire watched him go.
“You keep saying Adrian hated Marcel.”
“He did.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he asked me to kill him.”
Claire slowly turned.
“What?”
Elias looked at the asphalt.
The memory had been buried under too many years and too many deliberate silences.
“Marcel broke Adrian’s jaw when he was sixteen.”
Claire said nothing.
“He broke it again at nineteen.”
“You saw that?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Adrian came to me.”
“When?”
“A month before Marcel died.”
Claire stared at him.
“What did he ask?”
“For protection.”
“And murder.”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill Marcel because Adrian asked?”
“No.”
“Why did you kill him?”
May you like
“He betrayed the network and tried to have me killed.”
Claire gave him a tired, almost bitter look.
