Blowback

SIXTY-EIGHT

Though it cost Harvath several hundred dollars to convince the manager of Sion’s hottest night-spot, the Baroque Café at 24 avenue de France, to go along with his request, it was money well spent. The only thing the manager was going to remember from this night was an American with the largest bankroll he had ever seen in his life. The careers of Claudia, Horst Schroeder, and his commandos would remain totally unaffected. At a few hundred bucks, Harvath figured he was getting off cheap. Though the club claimed to have been created in the grand tradition of hot French brasseries such as la Coupole, les Grandes Capucines, le Chien Qui Fume, le Train Bleu, and Chez Flo, its manager had a lot to learn about holding out for more money.

Forty-five minutes before the scheduled rendezvous time, the first of Rayburn’s men walked into the bar area of the Baroque Café and took one of the high cocktail tables. The man couldn’t have been more obvious, and Schroeder’s men, who were posing as bouncers, had no trouble spotting him. The next of Rayburn’s men to arrive was much harder to ID. He fit in almost perfectly. If it hadn’t been for the fact that one of Schroeder’s bouncers had seen him hanging around outside, waiting for a group he could befriend and blend in with, they would have easily missed him.

When the disgraced Secret Service agent did finally show up, he was accompanied by two more men who weren’t trying to hide why they were there or whom they were with. With a quick glance over the café, Rayburn found what he was looking for and ignored the hostess as she asked him if he had a reservation. He had plenty of reservations, but spotting the gorgeous woman with the unopened bottle of Dom Perignon on her table and the golden cuff on her wrist — a perfect twin for the one locked in his safe back at Château Aiglemont — was at least for now enough to convince him to go forward.

“Had that been a bottle of Cristal on the table,” said Rayburn as he walked up to Mueller, “I would have turned and walked out of here. It’s a pleasure to encounter a woman with such class.”

Claudia smiled and motioned for Rayburn to sit in the empty chair in front of her. “I’m sorry we don’t have more room, but as you know, I requested that you come alone.”

Taking another look at Claudia, Rayburn waved his security detail away and replied, “You seem like a smart woman to me. Surely, you didn’t expect me to come to a meeting like this without bringing some colleagues.”

“To tell you the truth, Mr. Rayburn, I don’t know what I expected. I haven’t exactly done this kind of thing before.”

“Really?” he replied as he pulled the bottle of Dom from the ice bucket and began peeling the foil away from the cage. “You certainly had me fooled.”

“I did what I thought was necessary to get you to a meeting,” said Claudia.

Harvath, who had made sure that there would be no available tables anywhere near where Claudia was sitting, now watched as Rayburn’s men joined their colleagues at the only spot where they could keep an eye on their boss — the bar at the very front of the café. Convinced that the woman wasn’t a real threat, they ordered a round of drinks and were soon paying more attention to the fashionable crowd of diners that packed the trendy café. What did it matter anyway? He hadn’t told them why he wanted them to come out with him, only that he needed them to watch his back — that was it. No further explanation. As far as they were now concerned, the only problem their boss was going to have tonight was how to get the stunning woman sitting across from him into bed.

“And how exactly did you know where to find me?” he continued.

Harvath had anticipated this question and had prepped the Swiss prosecutor with the best response possible — the truth. “The e-mail you gave to Marie Lavoine. I used it to track you down.”

“That’s impossible.” Rayburn smiled. “None of my personal information is connected to that account.”

“No, but you do use a Visa debit card to pay for it, and that card draws funds from a bank on Malta.”

Rayburn was no longer smiling. “That still doesn’t explain how you ended up leaving a CARE package for me at the base of that funicular.”

“You cover your tracks very well,” she said, flattering him. “You only made one mistake.”

“Which was?”

“You used the credit card in Le Râleur. Once I knew that, I hired a detective in Geneva and he did the rest.”

Rayburn was not crazy that the woman had gotten a detective involved, but he could easily take care of him later if he needed to. For the moment, though, he was impressed. “It sounds like you spent some money to find me. I hope I’m worth it.”

“We’ll see about that,” responded Claudia.

“So why don’t you tell me how you came upon those lovely bracelets.”

“My father was part of Donald Ellyson’s team.”

“Bernard Lavoine? He was your father?”

“No, Maurice Vevé. Bernard’s assistant.”

“The Sherpa,” said Rayburn. “Of course. But what does any of this have to do with me?”

“As I said in my note, Marie Lavoine was holding out on you. What was sent to Sotheby’s was only a fraction of what she had in her possession.”

Rayburn turned his attention away from the champagne bottle for a moment and said, “I knew she couldn’t be trusted.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Mr. Rayburn. My father worked just as hard as Monsieur Lavoine and yet Marie never sought to include me in any of your dealings.”

“You have to understand, my relationship with Marie Lavoine is very—”

“Was,” said Claudia, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “Your relationship was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Marie Lavoine was murdered, Mr. Rayburn. Just as I am sure my father, Monsieur Lavoine, and Dr. Ellyson were also murdered.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Rayburn. “I didn’t have anything to do with their deaths.”

“Oh, no?” replied Claudia.

“No.”

Mueller held his gaze for several moments and then said, “Whatever the case, it really doesn’t matter much now. I came here to do business, not to make any new friends.”

“That’s a shame,” said Rayburn as he finished removing the wire cage and gently twisted the base of the deep green champagne bottle until the cork came away with a soft pop. “I have a feeling you and I might have been exceptional friends.”

“I doubt that.”

Rayburn poured champagne into their glasses and replaced the bottle in the ice bucket. “Well, then, maybe we should skip the niceties and move straight to business.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Claudia as she accepted a glass.

Skipping the toast, Rayburn took a sip of the champagne, smacked his lips contentedly, and then said, “You mentioned Marie Lavoine was holding out on me. How would you be in a position to know such a thing?”

Mueller set her glass down on the table and replied, “All of the artifacts that came out of that chasm were carried out by my father and Bernard Lavoine — equally.”

“Therefore, you feel you are entitled to an equal share. Am I correct?”

“Exactly.”

“Except now we have a problem. According to you, Marie Lavoine is no longer with us.”

“Actually, it’s according to the police.”

Rayburn took another sip of champagne and asked, “What exactly was Marie Lavoine’s cause of death?”

“Gunshot wound to the head,” said Harvath, who, disguised as a waiter with darker hair, glasses, and a goatee, had strode up right behind him. He placed the silenced pistol he had wrapped in a large linen napkin and hidden beneath his tray against the base of the man’s skull and added, “It was fired from a weapon very similar to the one you’re feeling against the back of your neck right now.”

Seeing that Harvath had made contact with Rayburn, Schroeder removed his cell phone from his pocket and sent a broadcast text message to his team. Forty-five seconds later, a pair of flashbang grenades detonated in front of the café. Everyone inside, including Rayburn’s men, strained to look out the window to see what had happened. As they did, three more flashbangs were pitched into the bar area along with several smoke canisters.