Fear No Evil

Chapter 37

Abelmar’s apartment. The place with the secret rooms where unspeakable things had allegedly been done to a stream of young women over the past fifteen years.

Bree smiled but said, “Well, I do very much wish to continue this discussion, Monsieur Abelmar. However, I am not in the habit of accompanying powerful men to their homes late at night.”

“Oh,” he said. “No. Nothing like that. Luc and Valentina will be there as well. It’s just more comfortable to relax there and continue our discussion.”

Bree could potentially search for the secret rooms. And maybe she’d get a moment to talk to Valentina. “In that case, of course,” she said, throwing all the warmth and sincerity at the billionaire that she could muster.

“Wonderful,” he said and then paused. “You are up to this sort of work, yes? The needs and objectives I’ve described?”

“The firm I work for was made for this,” she said.

“Du Champs and Vickers. We did some research. They’re very, very discreet.”

“Secretive describes us better.”

“Secretive it is, then,” Abelmar said. “Shall we?”

Bree got up from the table a bit confused. She’d thought for sure that Abelmar was looking to hide his own money or the embezzled money, and here he was, motivated by the needs of other wealthy clients. Or so he claimed.

“Please,” the billionaire said, gesturing for Bree to lead the way.

With Abelmar behind her, she felt slightly uneasy. He was a monster. There was not an iota of doubt in her mind about that. The stories the women told had had too many similarities. The secret rooms. The assaults. The videotaping. The despicable demeaning and blackmailing of the young women afterward.

Yet he had been a perfect gentleman the entire night; charming, even. It didn’t jibe at all with what she’d read in the horrific sealed files.

By the time Valentina and Abelmar’s chief of security had come from the bar to join them, Bree had resolved her inner conflict by remembering that monsters could be wealthy, and they could also be charming when they needed to be.

Luc L’Argent led them out of the bistro. On the sidewalk, Abelmar said, “It is only a short walk up the street. Ten minutes.”

“I can do that,” Bree said.

“Fantastic,” the billionaire said and went ahead to walk with L’Argent, leaving Bree alone with his personal assistant.

Before Bree could say anything, her cell phone rang. She looked at the number and saw it was Alex. They hadn’t spoken since the day before yesterday. “Sorry, it’s my brother,” she said in English to Valentina. “I have to take this. I’ll tell him I’ll call him back later.”

“Take your time,” the Australian said, getting out her own phone and walking on.

Bree slowed her pace to answer. “Alex?”

“You finally picked up,” Alex said.

“It’s been crazy. Where are you?” Bree asked, watching Valentina walking a few yards ahead of her on the sidewalk and Abelmar and L’Argent another fifteen yards ahead of Valentina. The two men paused at an intersection and talked intently.

“Denver airport,” Alex said. “Heading for home and Sampson. Did you hear?”

His question barely registered. Just as she was about to ask Alex if she could call him back, Bree heard a thud, and the front window of a shop on the corner shattered. The billionaire and his security chief were two steps out into the intersection.

In one motion, L’Argent drew his weapon and spun around to protect his boss. Before he could, a second suppressed shot blew a chunk of the security chief’s head off.

He crumpled in the street. Valentina screamed. Stooped over, terrified, and sprayed with L’Argent’s blood and brains, Abelmar ran back toward Bree and dove behind a small parked Citroën. One of its windows erupted. Valentina screamed again.

Bree ducked behind another small car, dropping her phone and hearing it clatter on the sidewalk as she clawed in her purse for the pistol. “Valentina!” Bree shouted. “Get down! Now!”