Wednesday Night
RENÉ LOOSENED HIS damp shirt collar. Vavin’s hard drive and the laptop PC in its case hung from his shoulder. Just as he passed Nadia’s desk, he heard a ting from the elevator and the slow whoosh of the door opening. He froze. Security guards or . . . ? He didn’t wait to find out.
He searched for cover behind a potted palm, gathered his thoughts, and looked for the stairs. The last thing he needed right now was questions. He wouldn’t be able to fight his way out carrying a several-kilo laptop case with his aching hip.
Palm fronds brushed his nose. The moist terra-cotta planter was exuding moisture. He saw the red-lit EXIT sign to his right and knew two flights of stairs led down to the foyer. And escape.
There was a soft padding sound on the carpet, then the flash of a man’s blond head. He was going straight to Vavin’s office. René held his breath, waited until he heard the office door open, and made for the exit. He wouldn’t have much time after the mec discovered Vavin’s laptop was gone.
He opened the door, stood in the stairwell, and held the handle so the door would shut silently, then raced down the stairs, trying to ignore the sharp pains in his hip. The laminated ID hanging from his neck flapped against the jacket he carried folded over his shoulder, under the laptop-case strap.
At the front desk he smiled at the security guard, praying he could get away with this. The last time he’d stolen anything was a car magazine when he was fifteen. And he’d been caught.
His shoulders were just at the level of the counter, where a sleepy security guard nursed an espresso.
On tiptoes, René reached for a pen with which to sign out. The guard eyed him, taking in his size.
A few more minutes and he’d reach his car.
“Before you go, open your bag,” the guard said.
“I’m in a hurry, I’m sure you understand . . .”
The guard jerked his thumb. “You heard me. Standard procedure.”
René opened the laptop case.
“What’s that you’ve got?”
René debated fully waking him by telling him the truth.
“A rat’s nest,“ René said. “Terminal malfunction in the hardware. I’ve got to repair this back at the office.”
“No one informed me,” the guard told him, one eye scanning the video monitors.
René followed his gaze. On the monitor labeled SECOND FLOOR he saw a blond mec standing at the elevator bank.
“Nor me! Just happened.” René rolled his eyes. “Deadline, too! They need this back in a few hours.”
“Eh, you can’t take equipment without—”
“Look, this system needs to be up and running before the exec’s conference.”
“You need authorization.”
Perspiration dampened René’s collar.
“Then you tell the CEO why his computer doesn’t work when he arrives at his meeting in a few hours.” Sweat trickled down René’s shoulders.
“Let me see your ID,” the guard said.
René held up the extra laminated badge Aimée had given him. “I’m a network system administrator. Get it? If I can’t deliver, it’s your job on the line.”
“Cool your heels, petit.”
Several men and women in blue work smocks had lined up behind René, grumbling. “What’s the holdup? We’ve clocked out.”
Behind him, he saw the orange light of the descending elevator.
René reached for a pen. “Where do I sign?”
HIS UPPER LIP still beaded with perspiration, René walked toward the budding trees in front of the Faculté des Sciences. He nodded to Saj, who was waiting under a lamppost, light gleaming on his bleached-blond dreadlocks, and opened the door of his parked Citroën, putting the laptop case on the leather seat.
“Namaste,” Saj said, placing the palms of his hands together in greeting.
“Namaste.” René returned the gesture. “Thanks for meeting me. Let’s go.”
“What’s with the slash on your bumper?” Saj asked.
“A big rig near the Périphérique got too close for comfort.” René’s hands were shaking so much he didn’t think he could drive. He opened the car door, leaned down, and somehow adjusted the seat controls and pedals for someone Saj’s height. “Do you mind driving?”
“To what do I owe the honor?” Saj said. “You’ve never even let me touch the steering wheel before.”
René climbed into the passenger seat. Lampposts shone on the bridge. He touched the floppy discs in his pocket for reassurance.
“Move it, Saj. Get us out of here.”
“René, you just missed big fireworks downstream on the Seine.” Saj gunned the engine. “You look nervous. What’s up?”
The Citroën shot over the Pont de Sully.
“It’s not every day I steal a laptop and a dead man’s hard drive.”
SEATED IN FRONT of his terminal in Leduc Detective’s office, René tugged at his goatee anxiously. He and Saj had copied Vavin’s hard drive to a backup disc. Now for the tough part—cracking Vavin’s password so they could get into the Alstrom files if the Alstrom system hadn’t already shut down his access.
He lowered his orthopedic chair and checked the mail piled in front of the frosted-glass door of Leduc Detective. Bills and more bills.
Saj asked, “Got the software installed?”
René nodded.
Saj sat cross-legged in a white flowing shirt and drawstring muslin pants, bent over the Alstrom laptop’s screen.
Breaking into systems was Saj’s specialty and he was a master at it.
Pain pulsed in René’s leg. There was still no word from Aimée. He’d left several messages. He wondered if she’d spoken with de Laumain. Or, worst-case scenario, if she was keeping vigil at the hospital by the side of a feverish Stella.
“I’m running the password program. Brute-force attack, as usual. When it hits, we’ll be in business. If we’re lucky.” Saj reached over and ran his fingers over René’s neck, down the lumbar curve of his spine.
“Full of tension.” Saj nodded with a knowing look. “Your chi’s blocked.”
René’s biggest concern at the moment was if Vavin’s access to Alstrom was blocked.
Saj sat on the wooden floor. “Time to center, René; it will clear your mind and do wonders for your spine.”
Might as well; he’d do anything that might help. René spread his raincoat on the floor and joined Saj.
“Deep breaths. Think of the tip of your nose. Good, now notice the air entering your nostrils.”
René tried to concentrate. He wished his hip didn’t ache.
“Feel the in breath. Good. Now let the air out, let your breath go. Exhale.”
René focused on breathing.
“Ommm.” Saj’s mantra mingled with René’s exhalations. And then René grew aware of a buzzing. Deep and monotonous, at the edge of his consciousness. The creaking of the floorboards broke into his reverie.
“Got it on the 11,034th hit!” Saj was saying, rubbing his palms together in front of Alstrom’s laptop. “Juliette. Probably his wife’s name. Or what do you think, René, his mistress?”
René’s mouth set in a tight line. “Or his daughter,” he said, thinking back to the child’s photo on Vavin’s desk that Aimée had stared at.
Saj caught René’s look and shrugged. “Anyway, you know what that means. We’re in business. Now if the stars are shining on us, Alstrom won’t have denied Vavin’s access yet. I’ll start the dial-up system for remote access and log on to their corporate account,” he continued. “But when I do, we’ve only got twelve hours—maybe, at most, eighteen—before Alstrom finds out and traces the phone number.” Saj rolled his swivel chair back and looked at René. “You’re prepared for that?”
Should they take the chance? But what other options did they have right now? He only had a few hours.
Saj stood up and stretched. “Has the travel agency next door moved out yet? You know, I’m thinking—”
“Brilliant, Saj!” René stood up, excited.
Saj grinned. “It’s worth a shot.”
René looked around in Aimée’s desk drawer, found what he was looking for, and motioned to Saj. “Not only did I steal, now I’m breaking and entering,” he said. He held up a lock-picking kit. “Pray the stars still shine, Saj.”
SAJ PICKED UP the phone in the deserted, shadowed travel-agent office. The desks were littered with travel brochures for Istanbul and Tunisia. He winked. “Dial tone! Let’s hook up.”
In five minutes, René heard the welcome series of high-pitched beeps as they attempted to dial up via remote access. The question now . . . had Vavin been blocked yet? Two long minutes later, the PC with Vavin’s password was logged on to the corporate account.
“Now we’re in,” Saj said, “but it still could take a day.”
“That we don’t have,” René interrupted. He glanced at his watch, calculated the time. “Four hours. Tops.”
Saj shook his head. “The system is immense. Of course, you’ve got a file name or word string?”
Another obstacle; why hadn’t Aimée told him more? This was going to be like looking for a blade of grass at Versailles.
“Look under pollution, oil spills, toxic percentages, Ministry meeting reports,” René said. “But they could have camouflaged it under something else.”
Saj’s fingers clicked over the keyboard. He shook his head as files filled the screen. A whole screenload of files to comb through; their long search had just begun.
“More than hours, this will take . . .”
“Time we don’t have. Go to Vavin’s home directory.” René thought fast. It would be dawn in a few hours and he had to return the PC. “We’ll try Vavin’s recent files, say those created within the last two weeks.” With that, and the info they’d copied from his hard drive, they should get somewhere. It was the best they could do.