Lethal Profit (15 page)

‘What do we do about them?' she said, indicating the huge car behind them, still following at a distance on the public road.

‘Leave them to me.'

Eva didn't want to think about what he was planning to do and she knew he wouldn't tell her even if she asked. She held on to her seatbelt with both hands and stared out of the window of the stationary car. They were waiting at a level-crossing for a train to pass. The barrier was down, the lights red, the warning sounding and in the distance Eva could hear the rumble of the high-speed train as it came thundering towards the spot where they were waiting. Behind them, the black car was just slowing in order to come to a stop at the crossing. It seemed strange to Eva that the attack had stopped as soon as they were back on the public highway but, at the same time, it made perfect sense if the driver was also the shooter. It was one thing to fire a gun in a field, but quite another to be attempting to handle traffic lights and crossings with one hand and a weapon with the other. Besides, the more attention they attracted, the less likely they would get away with whatever they were trying to do. And so the two cars waited in line. In the queue behind the black car was a family station-wagon full of children, and behind that two small Peugeots.

As Eva was about to reach for her bag, the car suddenly lurched forward. She stared at the situation in front of her. The lights had not changed, they were still red, but Leon was driving the car around the barrier, right across the tracks at the lowered gate on the other side. Coming the other way, to their right, at speed, was the train.

Before Eva even had time to scream, the train let out a huge blare of its horn, Leon jammed his foot down even harder on the accelerator and the front of their car smashed through the barrier on the other side of the track. As one of the back wheels seemed to hesitate over the metal rail, Eva held her breath, shut her eyes and – for the first time in her life – prayed. She waited for the collision but it never came. Or, at least, not to their car. Opening her eyes she heard an almighty crash and the sound of splintering glass and metal and, turning in her seat, she saw a brief flash of the black car as it was swept along in front of the train, which was still travelling at full speed.

They arrived in Montmartre at 10.05am and Leon parked the Citroen in a quiet side street. As she got out, Eva took a good look at the car that had just survived the ordeal with them. It was covered in mud, there were pieces of fern hanging from the doors and the back windscreen was gaping where the bullets had shattered the glass. It looked a mess but it wasn't any of these details that caused Eva to hesitate. It was the tyres. As Leon busied himself trying to tape some newspaper over the back window and clean the blood of the man at the petrol station from the passenger door, Eva bent down and took a closer look. The tyres were huge. Although she had limited knowledge of cars and their component parts, she was sure that she had never seen one of these iconic little cars with tyres like this. Not only were they enormous, looking completely out of place on the little roadster, but they were the thick, studded type that Eva had never seen on a normal car before. The tyres looked like they belonged on a seriously heavy duty off-road vehicle.

‘What are you doing?'

She looked up to see Leon staring down at her, annoyance written all over his face. He was pulling on a new shirt to replace the jumper he had been wearing that was now soaked with blood from the attack at the petrol station.

She stood up. ‘I was just wondering how this little car managed all that off-roading.'

Leon looked at her then walked around to the driver's side, threw the dirty jumper inside and slammed the door hard. ‘We should go.'

The sinking feeling she had felt in the car started working its way down Eva's spine. Something wasn't right. There was something about Leon that wasn't right.

She felt the phone in her bag vibrate with the receipt of a text message: ‘Meet me at the Altar of The Virgin, third row, fourth seat in. Ten minutes'.

‘It's Sophie,' Eva said, reading the location in the text out loud and then replacing the phone in her bag. ‘We have ten minutes.'

‘This way.'

Leon started off away from the car at a swift pace and Eva had to run slightly to catch up with him. They were walking through a residential area that seemed unnaturally quiet to Eva. The sound of their footsteps echoed around the walls of the houses, many of which were built at strange angles as a result of the uphill slant to the road. Each house was of a different design to its neighbour, there was no cohesion or uniformity. The street they were walking up was gradually getting steeper and Eva's lungs were starting to burn. She drew level with Leon.

‘How much further is it?'

‘Five minutes.'

His tone had become clipped and terse and he was walking very quickly, as if intentionally trying to get away from her. If this behaviour was the result of anxiety, he was making no effort to control it.

She looked at him; he glanced over at her. ‘We are nearly there.'

They reached the top of the hill and Eva was surprised to find herself standing opposite a windmill that was built into one of the houses on an otherwise normal-looking street. As they continued walking, the streets started to fill up. Tourists of every nationality thronged around them, having caricatures painted by street artists, filling up on hot chocolate or coffee and spending all their hard-earned money on pink plastic Eiffel Towers and snow globes containing a miniature model of the Sacré Coeur. Eva glanced up and saw the white domes and curved structures of the cathedral, towering over them. Even on such a dull day it looked bright and beautiful, the intricate carving and smooth workmanship as impressive from ground level.

‘This way,' said Leon attracting her attention. He led her around a small side street and they emerged at the front of the cathedral, to their left a large bank of stairs leading up to the entrance and to their right a breathtaking view out over the whole of Paris.

Leon turned, stopped suddenly and Eva came up short, almost colliding with his chest. Their faces were uncomfortably close.

‘I will be standing a short distance away in front and to your right,' said Leon not moving. Eva took several paces back from him as he continued. ‘If you feel like you are in trouble or you need some help you will start to cough. Make sure you put your hand right over your mouth so I can see because I won't be able to hear you.'

It didn't sound like the most amazing plan but it was, at least, a plan.

‘OK.'

‘You must make sure you get as much from her as you can and then get out, she may be being followed, which will compromise us both. If she gives you any information don't lose it, if she tells you anything, you must focus your mind entirely and not let any other thoughts enter it, as you must remember everything you are told.'

‘Fine,' said Eva, not enjoying being patronised.

They set off up the steps together, with Eva fighting a strong flight reflex. Inside, the cathedral was dark and warm and smelled comfortingly of wood polish and old fabric. It was also packed with people, despite the early hour. As they walked through the entrance there were people queuing to light candles on a candle tree or stopping to pick up paper information leaflets about the cathedral. To their left was a large tourist party, all listening intently to a tour guide speaking very quietly in German. They squeezed in between the tourists and the candle-lighters and started on the circular, carpeted walkway that wound around the building.

‘It's smaller than I expected inside.'

Leon ignored her. ‘That's the Altar,' he said, indicating an alcove housing a statue of the Virgin Mary, eyes cast upwards, hands clasped in prayer. All around her were candles, smaller religious icons, human heads bent in supplication and in front were rows of chairs. Eva glanced around her and wondered whether Sophie was already there and watching them. Perhaps she wasn't the only one.

‘I will wait over there.' Again Leon indicated an area to the right of the chairs with another head movement. ‘Communicate as we discussed if you feel you are in trouble.'

‘OK, fine. Wait…' Eva's voice faded away as she turned to Leon and realised he had already gone.

E
VA
FORCED
HERSELF
TO
PUT
ONE
foot in front of the other. A sort of woodenness was threatening to overtake her limbs. She glanced at her surroundings and wondered whether she was under surveillance by parties other than Leon. Briefly, she considered using this as a chance to extricate herself from the situation, but the reality was that the only option was to do what they had agreed. Sophie knew how and why the papers from the sports bag had come into Jackson's possession – and possibly how and why he died – and Sophie was here somewhere. As she approached the row of chairs in front of the altar Eva realised there was already someone sitting in the place she had been told to take. She stood motionless. Was this the person she was meant to meet? It was a blonde woman but her hair wasn't the natural-looking blonde she had seen on Sophie's social networking profile but a white, platinum blonde and much longer. Eva checked the text message again: third row, fourth seat in. This was definitely the right seat. She moved out of the way of a couple walking in the direction of a pyramid of candles in front of the altar and glanced to the right of the rows of seats where she spotted Leon. He looked directly at her for several seconds and then bowed his head as if in prayer. Eva turned back to the row of seats. The fourth seat was now empty.

Starting as if she had been poked in the back, Eva slipped past the seated worshippers until she was at the end of the third row. She counted the seats as she walked along the row – just to be sure – and carefully sat down in the fourth one. There she remained completely still, waiting. After several minutes the rigid position she was sitting in became incredibly uncomfortable and she forced herself to release some of the tension and relax her shoulders. She looked around the building at all the people milling past.

Leon was now standing next to a huge stone pillar, apparently reading one of the paper information leaflets that hung in wooden boxes all around the cathedral. Occasionally, he would look from the leaflet to the ceiling, across the room or straight at Eva, each time appearing simply to be taking in whatever he was reading about. He looked pretty much like any other tourist.

Suddenly someone sat down in the seat next to her.

‘Don't look at me.'

Immediately, Eva tensed up.

‘You are Eva?'

A woman's voice.

‘Yes.'

They sat in silence for several seconds and it was all Eva could do not to turn around and get a good look at who was sitting next to her. ‘And you are Sophie.'

‘… Yes.'

Eva turned her head very slightly towards where the woman was sitting. Out of the corner of her eye she could see thin legs clad in dark blue denim, a pair of plain, expensive-looking brown brogues and the sleeves of a thick, dark coat. Sophie had her hands in her lap, thin fingers intertwined and squeezed together, alarmingly white where she was gripping herself with tension.

‘You are in danger, Eva.'

‘I know,' Eva replied. Sophie was almost gouging the flesh from her hands and there was a note of such anxiety in her voice that Eva could feel her own carefully controlled heartbeat begin to rise again.

‘I am so sorry that you have ended up in this position, I know that Jackson would never have wanted that.'

At the mention of her brother's name, Eva turned to face Sophie. She couldn't help it. She was met by a pair of wide, warm blue eyes, a thin face with highly defined cheekbones, framed by that short, light blond hair. She was wearing a dark fur hat jammed down on her head and small diamond earrings, one in each ear. Unexpectedly, Sophie smiled. ‘You look a little like him.'

The two women stared at each other for several seconds before a wariness seemed to gradually filter back behind Sophie's eyes.

‘Tell me what happened,' said Eva, taking the lead.

‘I met your brother in a bar,' Sophie said, cutting straight to the chase. ‘Nothing happened but we were both drunk; we talked for several hours. Unfortunately, I became quite attached to him.'

Eva nodded and then broke Sophie's gaze, for some reason feeling slightly embarrassed at prying into her brother's life in this way.

‘After that night I tried to contact him and get him to meet up with me again. It was more forward than I was used to being but I felt there was such a connection I just couldn't ignore it.'

‘Did he respond?'

‘Yes. But he was a good man your brother, he was faithful to his girlfriend.'

Sophie sighed. ‘Unfortunately, I did not let it go and I pursued him. I am 35 years old, Eva, I am unmarried and I have no children. I feel a huge pressure to not be alone any more. At my age, when someone comes along that you feel something like that for, you don't let him go without a fight.'

‘Even if he wasn't yours to fight for in the first place?'

Sophie held Eva with a steady gaze. ‘I know I did the wrong thing. I was overcome by the fear of being alone. It was stupid. Oh, you have no idea how much I regret pursuing your brother now.'

She looked like she might cry. Eva knew that there was no time for that. ‘Tell me what happened next.'

‘I was trying to find a way to get your brother to see me again and then I came across an email at work. It concerned a project in the Sudan and I knew your brother was passionately committed to his work there. I sent it to him.'

‘Where is it you work?' Eva didn't want to give away what she knew. Not yet.

‘A company called Bioavancement S.a.r.l. I am – I was – a PA to one of the Directors.'