Private Monaco

Chapter 43

When I was finally processed and released, I found Justine waiting for me in the lobby of police headquarters.

“Jack!” she said, throwing her arms around me.

I pulled her close. It felt good to hold her and smell the vanilla in her hair and her jasmine perfume.

“Thank you,” she said to Hannan, who’d supervised my release and walked out with me.

“You’re welcome, but I really didn’t do anything,” the lawyer replied. “They had footage of the murder all along. They knew Mr. Morgan wasn’t responsible.”

Justine stepped away, irritated on my behalf. “Then why hold you?”

“To make a point,” I guessed. “We’d had a deal to share information, which is apparently over because I’ve been holding out.”

Justine frowned while Hannan moved to go.

“Well, if that’s all, I should get back to the office.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Call me if you need anything else,” she replied. “Thank you for trusting me, Ms. Smith.”

Justine nodded and Hannan walked toward the main doors, leaving the two of us in the middle of the busy lobby, surrounded by cops and civilians going about their business.

“The deal to share information is over?” Justine asked.

“That’s what Chevalier said,” I replied.

“And what if I knew where one of the kidnappers was?”

I looked at Justine in disbelief.

“After you were arrested, the guy you were chasing — Michel — stopped running, so I followed him. On foot at first, and then in a cab.”

I smiled and slowly shook my head at her. “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” she said flatly. “He’s staying in a small apartment building in a neighborhood called La Turbie. It’s just across the border in France. I rented a car. We could take a drive and talk to him.”

Much as I relished the prospect of having a private encounter with the man, there was clearly a broader conspiracy at work that might involve the Grand Prix and put many lives potentially at risk. We knew at least one person would be targeted by this group, but they might have other plans. A terror attack at the race would send shockwaves around the world.

“I think we should share the intel,” I said to Justine, whose mouth curled at the corners.

“After what the cops have just done to you?” she asked, then thought better of it. “I thought you might.”

My phone rang. When I took it from my pocket, I saw the incoming call was from Mo-bot.

“Mo,” I answered.

“Jack, you’d better be sitting down for this. The guy who took Justine is Roman Verde, brother of Milan Verde, leader of the Dark Fates.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“This is personal for him. Revenge for what we did to his brother,” Mo-bot said. “We’re on our way back to Monaco.”

“We’ll see you at the apartment,” I told her calmly, but inside I was reeling.

The Dark Fates was the formidable criminal gang I’d encountered while investigating the Vatican murders. I thought it had been broken up by Italian authorities after its leader Milan Verde was imprisoned.

“See you there,” Mo-bot replied before hanging up.

Justine looked at me expectantly.

“The man who abducted you is Milan Verde’s brother,” I told her.

While she reacted to the revelation with shocked disbelief, I reached a decision. “This is no street organization. There’s a bigger play at work here, which means we can’t keep any useful intelligence to ourselves. There’s a chance the French or Monaco police deliberately blew the operation to rescue you, but we can’t tackle something on this scale without trusting someone. We need to inform Chevalier about the suspect in La Turbie and see how she wants to handle him.”