Destiny

SEVENTY-ONE

Another half dozen members of the de Gaulle Airport security formed a semi-circle as backup behind the Paris police.

Marcus looked at Alicia and said, “This is Inspector Juneau and his colleagues. I’m a person of interest in the assassination of the prime minister. Alicia has a solid alibi, Inspector. She was in the U.S. at her father’s funeral.”

“Search them,” Juneau said, his lips barely moving.

Dozens of spectators watched the police pat down Marcus and Alicia. She said, “I just got off a plane. How could I have a weapon?”

They ignored her and continued the search, one man opening her luggage. The man doing the body searches finished and nodded. Juneau said, “Ranger vos armes.” The men holstered their guns. “Mr. Marcus,” Juneau continued, folding his arms, “you and your companion need to come with us.”

“Where and why?” Marcus asked.

“We have some questions that only you can answer. We have a room here at de Gaulle for this sort of thing.”

The room was bright white. No windows. A small conference table and four chairs were in the center. A telephone sat on a stand near a green plastic eucalyptus plant in the corner. Marcus assumed the room was wired.

Inspector Juneau and one other man sat across from Marcus and Alicia. “Mr. Marcus, Juneau began, leaning back in this chair. “You have become a curiosity to me. You were instructed not to leave Paris for at least forty-eight hours.”

“I’m in Paris.”

“You and your companion are here at the airport, only a short distance to the rest of the world.”

“My name is Alicia.”

Juneau smiled. “We know who you are, Miss Quincy. What we don’t know is what you are doing here. A former NSA employee meets a current one after an assassination.” He shifted his eyes to Marcus. “So you two are here in the airport, heading in the direction of the departures, walking quickly I might add, when we stopped you.”

Marcus shook his head. “We were heading in the direction of the taxis.”

“Miss Quincy, why are you here? Perhaps to deliver or pick up something from Mr. Marcus, yes?”

“No, and that can be understood as a hell no. We’re old friends, as you suggested, former colleagues. I’m here to take in Paris. Any suggestions on what to see and do in the City of Light?”

Juneau ignored her and altered his stare at Marcus. “We managed to locate Miss Gisele Fournier.”

“Good, did you find the guy on your staff she talked to?”

“No, and we would have asked her about that, but there was a slight problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

“She’s dead.”

Marcus felt his stomach catch, the adrenaline flowing into his bloodstream. “How’d she die?”

“From the surface, it looks like she was the unfortunate victim of a traffic accident. However, there were no other cars involved. Her car was found at the bottom of a cliff about fifty kilometers south of Calais. No witnesses. No skid marks, and our investigation reveals the brakes were in proper working order. We did find her mobile, and the last call she made was to your number.”

Marcus said nothing.

“What was the nature of your discussion?”

“She told me more about her deceased grandfather, the same grandfather who showed her the weeping angel in the same Garden of Peace where the prime minister was shot.”

“Why the interest in her grandfather, a man who is dead?”

“He led a fascinating life, and one that somehow pointed me to the garden and the tragic event that happened. The only thing sadder is that it didn’t have to happen. Your department was aware of the possible assassination attempt. So were the Israeli and the U.S. governments.”

Inspector Juneau lowered his head for a moment and rested his arms on the table, his eyes moving from Marcus to Alicia and back. “Miss Fournier’s mobile pinged from a cellular tower near Calais. It’s the same tower where your mobile signal pinged. We checked the surveillance tapes from cameras at the Chunnel Port. The video shows you, in your car, driving onto the Chunnel and driving off the Chunnel in England. What were you doing in Britain, especially after our office asked you to stay in Paris briefly while we investigated the murder of the prime minister?”

“First of all, I’m not complicit in the assassination. Secondly, if you were checking surveillance tapes, you already know I was at the port before the assassination.”

“What were you doing in England?”

“On a quick day trip. Sightseeing.”

Inspector Juneau smiled and nodded. “Miss Fournier’s car was found at the bottom of a cliff not too far from where you caught the Chunnel to Britain. Why was it important to kill her? What did you take from her…besides her life?”

“I haven’t seen Gisele since I met her in the Garden of Peace.”

“Why would she have been near Calais the same time you were returning from England?”

“Her family has a seaside cottage near there.”

“Where do you think she was going before her car plunged off the cliff?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

“Not knowing when the accident happened, I don’t know for sure. But she was planning to leave her grandparents cottage to return to Paris and bring something to me.”

“What was that, Mr. Marcus?”

“A letter her grandfather wrote. You found her mobile phone, did you find the letter?”

“No, as a matter of fact, there was nothing more on her person than a few cosmetics in her purse and a small overnight bag. We recovered no letter.”

“Then maybe someone else did.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m saying she was killed trying to deliver an important document to me. Now it’s gone. Somebody has it. That’s who you need to find, because whoever has that letter is most likely connected to the assassination of the prime minister.”

Inspector Juneau smiled, his dark eyes shifting from his lieutenant back down to Marcus. “I think you have quite an imagination.”

“Think what you want. Either charge me with murder or leave me the hell alone. Let’s get out of here, Alicia.”

“Not so fast, Mr. Marcus.” Juneau stood. He nodded to his lieutenant, a heavyset man, jowls wobbling as he stepped quickly in front of the door. “Turn around, both of you, place your hands behind your back.”

Marcus phone rang. “You mind if I take this call? It’s the American Secretary of State.” Before Juneau could answer, Marcus said, “Madame Secretary did you speak with the vice president?” Marcus smiled, both eyebrows rising. “Secretary Hanover, we seem to have a little problem here, specifically at de Gaulle Airport.”

“What is that?”

“I’m about to be arrested for suspicion.”

“Suspicion?”

“Yes, Inspector Juneau with the Paris police department thinks I may have had something to do with the assassination of the prime minister. But, as you know, I tried to prevent that from happening.”

“Let me speak with the Inspector.”

Marcus handed his phone to Juneau. “She wants a word with you.”

Juneau looked at the phone and then at Marcus before talking it. “This is Inspector Andre Juneau.”

“Good morning, Inspector. This is Secretary of State Merriam Hanover. I just wrapped up a successful meeting with President Sarkozy. I, too, will be at de Gaulle shortly. I hope security is equally as good for me as it is for my friend, Paul Marcus. I assure you, Inspector, Paul Marcus travels with the highest security credentials, and he is in no way connected to the assassination of the prime minister except by default. He was trying to warn us, a prophetic and a most altruistic gesture. Unfortunately, security at the UNSECO property wasn’t as efficient as it is at de Gaulle. I will vouch for Paul Marcus. Please release him immediately from custody and into my recognizance, if need be.”