Fear No Evil

Chapter 46

Paris

Inspector Marché finally released Bree around noon. We went to her hotel and both of us collapsed into a long, dreamless sleep that left us a little befuddled when we woke around six that evening.

Elena Martin texted us both (Bree’s phone had been found, and mine was working properly again) and offered to have her office arrange our flights home, which we gladly accepted. Next, we made a FaceTime call to Ali’s phone. But my grandmother answered; she peered at the screen as if it were some crystal ball before smiling.

“You’re both good!”

“I texted you and told you that, Nana.”

“I know, but I had to see for myself.”

Bree waved at her. “We are intact. All fingers and toes. Where are the kids?”

“Jannie’s with Willow at the hospital. John may be able to leave the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s great news,” I said. “Where’s Ali?”

“Sleeping, the last time I looked.”

“Okay, then. We’re going to go. We’re on a plane tomorrow morning and should be home by dinner.”

Nana Mama smiled. “I promise you it will be a good one.”

After we hung up, I told Bree, “I need to exercise. Do something to clear my head.”

“We’ll shower and go for a walk,” Bree said. “We’re in Paris and it’s so beautiful at night, Alex. I want to show you.”

Refreshed by our showers, we called Sampson’s hospital room and got him on the phone. He’d had a solid sleep and needed fewer painkillers.

“Sounds like the trip to Montana is off for this year,” I said.

“Not if I can help it,” Sampson said. “The docs say I was lucky and should recover in five or six weeks or so. Still gives us enough time.”

“Let’s play it by ear. Did Master Sergeant Brooker say anything to you before he attacked you?”

“He said a lot of things, but when he was about to kill me, he said he’d been sent by M to do it.”

We told him about M possibly being involved in Abelmar’s murder and about how Marco Alejandro believed Maestro was a group of people led by M.

“Makes more sense,” Sampson said. “I was beginning to think he was everywhere at once. But why kill me?”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t know. And I don’t know why they decided to save Bree in Paris. Or why they’re fighting the cartel and us at the same time. I’m struggling to understand the agenda.”

“So am I,” Sampson said. He paused. “I gotta go. My doc just walked in.”

“Get better.”

“ASAP,” he said and hung up.

Bree and I left the hotel around seven, with the air still warm, and the sun just setting. The light on the Seine was golden and we stopped often just to look around us at the sheer grandeur of the city.

Along the way, Bree brought me up to speed on all that had transpired in the few days she’d been in Paris, including how she’d been about to warn Abelmar’s personal assistant that she was in danger just before the shooting started.

“Are you going to tell her?” I asked.

“I’m going to make sure the Pegasus board of directors tells her,” Bree said. “What else did you and Marco Alejandro talk about?”

“He said Maestro has been sabotaging the cartel’s business for nearly a decade. Disrupting shipments, bombing drug labs, assassinating high-ranking cartel members. He also blamed Maestro for hacks into cartel computers that wreaked havoc on their accounting and tracking systems.”

“No idea who they are?”

I shook my head. “No names, but Alejandro had all sorts of theories. The most compelling had M as the strategist and director of a small army of mercenaries and former agents of U.S. law enforcement upset by corruption.”

“What’s the big motive?” Bree asked. “Maestro’s? M’s?”

“I can’t figure that out,” I said. “On the one hand, they’re engaged in a private war with the cartel and corruption. On the other, M claims to have killed Billie Sampson and sent an assassin after John. M’s been taunting us for years, sometimes helping us, sometimes interfering. What’s the angle?”

“Maybe personal?” Bree suggested. “Maybe somewhere in the past, you offended M or thwarted Maestro or did something that stuck in their craws.”

“I don’t know.”

We wandered by a restaurant that smelled incredible.

“I’m hungry all of a sudden,” Bree said. “Part of me wanted to take you to Canard for the duck, but we’re right here.”

We went in and were lucky to find a table for two at the back. I ordered a bottle of champagne with dinner to celebrate life, and we vowed not to talk about crime the rest of the evening.

After we’d toasted and taken a sip of the champagne, Bree reached across the table and took my hand. “I want to tell you how touched I am, how wonderful I felt when I found out you’d jumped on a plane to Paris just because you thought I was in danger.”

Gazing into her tear-filled eyes, I said, “There was no thought about it. The decision was just made and I had to go. My baby needed me.”

“She did,” Bree said. “She does.”

“I admit I was scared on the flight over. Not being able to do anything for twelve hours — it makes a guy’s mind play tricks on him.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of much, Alex. What were you afraid of?”

“A life without you.”

“Aww,” she said and reached up to stroke my cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid of that ever.”

“Some things are out of our control,” I said, touching the back of her hand. “But not my love for you. That is forever.”

Bree smiled and flushed, and her eyes sparkled. “You are on fire tonight.”

“It’s Paris. And the champagne.”

She laughed and sat back in delight. “Alex Cross turns romantic! Yet another reason to love this place. It’s just magical what it does to people, isn’t it?”