Private Monaco

Chapter 60

The man in blue spotted Justine and we locked eyes for a split second before he moved like a startled animal, jolting out of his chair and heading full tilt across the casino floor.

“Call Inspector Chevalier,” I said to Justine as I set off in pursuit.

His pace kicked up a gear when he saw me in pursuit and we both dodged and weaved our way around tables, servers with trays, and gamblers staggering around stunned by a big loss or too much drink.

Soon we were running full pelt across the huge vaulted hall, and when he crashed through a pair of red leather-upholstered doors on the far side of the room, I followed and found myself in a wide carpeted corridor lined with oversized framed photographs of historic Monaco.

The corridor was empty. When the doors swung to behind me, the sound from the main floor faded to a muted hum.

I couldn’t see any sign of my target so I hurried on, passing function rooms with names such as the Corniche Suite. As I ran past a door leading to the Princess Grace Suite, I heard movement behind me and turned to see the man I was chasing come barreling through, shoulder down, ready to tackle me.

I sidestepped just in time, grabbed his shirt and gave him an extra shove to propel him into a print of Stirling Moss winning the 1961 Grand Prix.

He cried out as the glass shattered on impact, but swiveled, already swinging, and caught me with a lucky right hook, which knocked me back a couple of steps and dazed me.

He didn’t press his advantage, but instead took the opportunity to run.

I came to my senses and set off after him, sprinting to the end of the corridor and following him up a flight of stairs to the left.

He barreled through some glazed double doors and I chased him into a reception area, where a blonde woman and a dark-haired man sat behind a long counter. They both gasped when the man I was chasing passed them and sprinted down a corridor to their right. I followed, hot on his heels.

He reached a door at the end and burst through it. Moments later, I did the same and found myself in a large, opulently furnished executive office.

Seated on two long couches were Raymond Chalmont, Roman Verde and two very large, heavyset men I recognized from Justine’s escape from the farm.

The man I’d been chasing turned to me, a smile on his face. “You never stopped to consider whether you were the hunter or the prey,” he said in a heavy Spanish accent.

The two large men stood and grabbed me. I tried to shake them off, but Roman Verde joined them and punched me in the face, stunning me.

Chalmont got to his feet looking agitated. “Your business should never intrude on my domain,” he protested. “That was our deal. Whoever this man is, whatever you do to him, it happens elsewhere.”

Roman nodded, and the two thugs who had hold of my arms whisked me off my feet and dragged me from Chalmont’s office.