Ransom Beach (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 2) (28 page)

I'd started all the wheels in motion. The crime lab was working on several of my requests, the images stored on Ernie's camera phone and a litany of tests I wanted run on the evidence collected from the apartment on 116
^th
Street. I'd be well over the Atlantic before any information from the crime lab came through. I was eager to hear whether my hunches had checked out, but knew also that a chilled bottle of
Dom Perignon
likely waited aboard Thorne's jet and that it would greatly contribute toward passing the time as we winged our way to Europe.

Whereas I was running on vapors, Lido was well rested. He'd cut out after the questioning on The Faith had ended, gotten a crisp haircut and gone home to pack. He was wearing a sharp black suit with a merino pullover. He looked absolutely amazing, enough so that I began wondering how large the lavatory on a private jet was and if airplane sex fell under the category of foreplay.

The Faith had taken the fifth, amendment that is, refusing to divulge any information that might tend to incriminate them, acting on the advice of legal counsel. It was not unexpected. Ambler, the DA, and the federal prosecutor had other ways of taking a bite out of The Faith. They would make sure they answered for their involvement in Manny's abduction and the death of Carl
Lapsos.

Thorne and Manny were already aboard when we arrived. She bowled me over with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, not the European two-cheek greeting but an honest to goodness American as apple pie smooch. She was beaming at me as she rubbed her lipstick off my cheek.

"There's my girl," she said. Lido got a peck on the cheek too. "Welcome aboard. Come, say hello to Manny. He's almost back to himself," she whispered. "You two are the bomb." Not exactly the language one would use aboard an airliner these days, but it was her jet after all and so...

"It's so nice of you to do this for us, Ms. Thorne. It really wasn't—"

"It certainly was necessary. You're our heroes and I damn well intend to show my appreciation for it. I told Mayor Mike all about the two of you." She glared at us defiantly and then the stem face succumbed to a playful grin. "Screw the formalities, let's have some fun."

Manny was seated upfront near the cockpit. He was busy scribbling away. I wondered whether a new quatrain was coming out but it wasn't, it was, on appearance, just scribble. The bruise on his cheek had healed. He looked clean, freshly groomed, and so much more composed than when I had seen him last.

"Manny," Thorne said, "Say hello to these two nice people." She kneeled next to him and gently stroked his arm hoping to coax a smile for us. Manny's scribbling stopped. He glanced up but never actually looked at either of us. He grinned momentarily, a big silly grin and then in the next instance was scribbling again. Thorne stood and led us aft to where the purser was waiting for us, holding champagne flutes. "He's going to need time." She grew a bit misty. "The important thing is that he's safe. I don't know what I would have done if you—" Thorne shook off the melancholy. She reached for her
champagne
and waited for us to do the same. "To Paris." She lifted her glass. We toasted and drank.

The hostess stood in attendance. She was not one of Thorne's pretty girls. Don't get me wrong, she was an attractive woman, but not one of the models Thorne surrounded herself with in the boardroom. She had the look of a seasoned professional. "
Veuve Clicquot
, Ms. Thorne, how do you like it?"

"Has a wonderful bite." She turned to us for approval. Lido and I concurred. To be honest, I didn't know one champagne from the next. I'd always been a Cabernet girl. My father loved his wine and had taught me the ABC rule early on in life, Anything But Chardonnay.

"It's great," I said.

"Love it," Lido said, which was bullshit because I knew he hated champagne and was probably hoping for a Diet Pepsi chaser.

"This is Alicia," Thorne said. "She'll get you anything you need."

Alicia smiled. "Let's get you settled in."

"Wonderful," Thorne said. "I need a word with the pilot. I think we're ready to push off." She toasted us again and then headed for the cockpit. She tickled Manny's chin as she walked by. Manny giggled and went back to his scribbling.

It was a private jet, so the cockpit doors were open. I could see the pilot and copilot going over the
preflight
checklist. It was a far cry from any jet I had ever flown. The interior of Thorne's flying palace was gorgeous, burl wood veneers and bisque colored leather. Settling into the overstuffed chair was like sinking into a cloud, the comfiest my fanny had been in a long time. The footrest came up unexpectedly, taking my feet out from under me. I almost spilled my champagne. Lido chuckled. All was good. Actually, I was good and tired. I felt the champagne go to my head and my eyelids droop—would have given my badge for twenty winks.

"Ms. Thorne suggested porterhouse with white asparagus tips and yams for supper, will that be good for the two of you or would you prefer something else? I have a full kitchen—anything you like."

"Good by me," Lido said. "Medium rare." He looked as if he had died and gone to heaven.

"Medium rare it is." Alicia turned to me.

"Yeah, great, porterhouse works for me too."

"How would you like that?" Alicia asked.

"Burn it."

"Wonderful. I'll get the appetizers started. We can eat soon after take off. Would you like something else to drink?"

"Do you have diet soda?" Lido asked.

"
Coke
or
Pepsi
?"

"
Pepsi
, thanks." Did I tell you?

Alicia reached for Lido's glass of champagne. "Let me take that nasty champagne off your hands," she said, wrinkling her nose playfully. She turned and walked to the galley at the rear of the jet.

"What do you think—not bad, huh?"

"Bad? This is outrageous," Lido said. "Do you think the whole week is going to be like this?"

"Yeah, except for when we're locked away screwing our brains out." I winked at Lido and lifted my glass. "Vive la France."

Lido blushed. We both turned forward just as the hatch was sealed.

Thorne walked aft, accompanied by the pilot. They stopped in between our two seats.

"Stephanie, Gus, meet our pilot, Joe Douglas. Joe's been whisking me around the globe for years." Thorne pinched his cheek affectionately and then rested her head against his shoulder. "Can't tell you what I would have done without him."

I doubt Lido saw it but I did, the look on Thorne's face as she leaned against Douglas' shoulder. Douglas was a good looking man, not pretty, more of what you'd call ruggedly handsome, with a square jaw and piercing blue eyes. He looked about forty. Flecks of gray had begun to work their way into his thick black hair.

"Fly the friendly skies," Douglas said with a firm handshake and a self assured grin.

Thorne giggled like a schoolgirl. "I can't get him to stop saying that. Joe used to fly jumbo jets for United." Honestly, it made me feel good knowing she was as human as the rest of us, with needs and desires and weaknesses.

Fly the friendly skies? You've got to be kidding. Thorne was still holding onto his arm. Fly friendly Joe was more like it. She was focused on him as if she had found nirvana and no, I'm not talking about Kurt Cobain, but yes it suddenly smelled like teen spirit to me. I should have realized that globetrotting had its perks.

"We're all set," Douglas said. "Flying time is six hours and twenty-three minutes. Have you ever been to Europe before?"

"First time for us," Lido said.

"You'll
love
it,"
Douglas
said. "It's another world. Well, enjoy. We should have a smooth flight. I'll catch up with you later." Thorne finally gave back Joe's arm. "Up, up, and away," he said and then returned to the cockpit.

"I've got the two of you booked into the George V," Thorne said. "Manny and I will stay there overnight and then we're off to his home village. I've rented a chateau for the week." She slapped Lido on the shoulder. "Not to worry, the two of you will have lots of privacy."

I almost choked on my champagne.

"Ha," Thorne chortled. "That was the most obvious sign of guilt I've ever seen. Don't bother denying it. I know the two of you are a pair, knew it the first time I saw you together. Why do you think I didn't invite that lovely Mr. Ambler? As I always say, two's company and three's a pain in the ass."

I looked at Lido. He looked at me. Neither of us knew what to say. There was no value in telling her that she and the pilot were exclusive members of the Thorne Mile High Club. Honestly I didn't think she'd care.

"Don't worry," she continued, "I'll send him a present. I was thinking a big screen TV—
Celia
Thorne knows how to say thanks. I'll be in my office until dinner." I don't think her feet touched the ground as she walked by us.

I rolled my eyes. Lido did the same. Thorne was a sharp lady, one I was liking more and more by the minute. I heard the whir of the jet's engines build into a roar and then we lurched forward and began charging down the runway. The sensation was very different from the commercial flights I had been on. There was a much stronger awareness of movement, more like being in a highly powered sports car during a jackrabbit start.

Dinner was yum—lots of food and lots of wine. I looked out and saw nothing. We were over the Atlantic with about five hours of flying time ahead of us. I wanted to go back on the clock but my mind just wouldn't have it. The dark sky was soothing. I felt my eyelids lower and then...

I didn't realize I had fallen asleep until the dimmed cabin light began to filter through. My eyes were mere slits. The cabin was completely still. Manny was still in his seat. He had stopped scribbling and was sitting quietly, staring out...

But not like before.

He was staring directly at me. I doubt he knew that I saw him because the lighting was dim and my eyes were mostly closed. I watched him as he stared at me, sitting motionlessly. Was it the shadows playing tricks with my eyes? Was I really seeing what I was seeing? There was something in his eyes, something I'd never seen before. It turned my blood to ice.

I yawned and stretched, demonstrating that I was about to wake up. I opened my eyes fully. No more than a few seconds had passed but he was Manny again, simple, sweet, and unthreatening.

But I had seen his other side.

I looked around. Lido was asleep. Thorne was in her office and Alicia was probably passed out in the kitchen with a bottle of dessert wine.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and walked casually up to Manny. He didn't budge as I approached or acknowledge me as I stood before him, so I kneeled so that I could see his eyes and I whispered, "I know."

Daylight flooded into the cabin as we crossed the international dateline. We approached Paris and night became day. All seemed status quo. Alicia was preparing breakfast. Thorne was out of her office, chatting with us, and Manny was once again the simple and adorable youth everyone believed he was. He did not flinch or in any way acknowledge that I was on to him...nor did I. All I had to go on was my gut. My intuition told me that I was right but I didn't have a shred of evidence—not yet.

I had spent the last hours putting it all together, sorting through the case's elements that had disturbed me so thoroughly. Davis Mack provided a convenient answer, one that everyone would've accepted, but he was not the perpetrator of the conspiracy. The pieces of the puzzle were laid out before me, edge-to-edge but not quite touching. All I needed was the information I had requested, the glue necessary to bond the individual pieces into one vivid picture. I'd get the information I needed upon arrival in Paris: phone calls from Tully in the crime lab, Interpol, and last but not least, Nigel Twain. Almost more difficult than proving the case would be breaking the news to Thorne. She was absolutely aglow, happy in the knowledge that her small family was once again together. How would I be able to tell her that she had been living with a monster under her roof, that she had been the victim of one of the greatest stings of all time? The blow would be catastrophic.

Thorne, Lido, and I were chatting and laughing but behind the scene, my thought process was devoted to running the details of the case over and over. Manny had gone through several sheets of paper since takeoff, filling them with his frenzied stokes—no prophecies were forthcoming. His new work was largely scribble. There were a few French words thrown in at random, along with individual letters, but nothing cohesive, nothing that pointed to his ability to channel the quatrains of his famous ancestor. Thorne and Manny's physician both felt that the trauma of the kidnapping had knocked him off center, temporarily or perhaps permanently disabling his normal routine. This too was a convenient answer, one I would not accept.

I'd been troubled from the very start by the accuracy of the quatrains to portray the current case as it unfolded. True, this is supposed to be the essence of a prophecy, but the accuracy and detail seemed to me more taunting than predictive. The Gold Cage, Rousseau Brother's Garage, the authorities arriving too late, these correlations were too accurate to be mere prophecy. Manny was now reduced to scribbling. He could not channel the Quatrains of Nostradamus, not now or ever. He had studied them and deliberately matched the quatrains to the circumstances he had chosen. Now, without reference material available, he had no information to draw from. He had to have had access to the original quatrains, and the ability to communicate with someone on the outside—all of which was currently unavailable to him.

My ears popped. I looked out and saw that we were only a few thousand feet up, presumably over the outskirts of Paris.

"Welcome to Paris," Thorne said. She stood and walked forward to check on Manny just as the pilot announced that we were on our final approach.

"Keep a close eye on Manny," I whispered to Lido.

He looked at me as if I was insane. "What?"