"What the hell are you talking about, Urquet?" The old man sounded bewildered. "You know anything about this, Jason? No? You're one hell of liar, Urquet. We don't have a driver. You been hitting the bottle or something?"
Urquet decided to stay silent and not antagonize either man for the sake of scoring a few points. Certainly there was no driver in the Volvo when they arrived. Whatever the reason, someone was confused about the phone call.
He looked closely at Frank Heinman, trying to see into his eyes. As senior corporate lawyer, he'd landed a most uncomfortable job. The New York executives were right to be concerned about the ex-president's state of mind. Miller, ringing from his hospital bed in England, blamed the change on a confidential memo from Ingrid Rosestein of NATA. Whatever the reason, the old man couldn't handle it any longer. And now the Heinmans had the French police after them.
"I need to know something of the circumstances of your troubles, Frank."
"You only need to know what we're telling you, Urquet," snapped Heinman senior. "Jason will drive us down to the airport -- as long as that airplane's ready."
"Like I said on the phone, the company Gulfstream arrived an hour ago." Urquet expected a word or two of thanks. It had been hard getting the aging jet over from New Jersey with less than twenty-four hours' notice. Gratitude had never been a Heinman weakness.
"You'd better tell us just what sort of amazing plan you've dreamt up," interrupted Jason. He sounded even more unpleasant than usual.
Simon Urquet wanted to hit him. He'd done more than his share of covering up to save Jason Heinman from the FBI over the years, and the ungrateful jerk never once had the decency to acknowledge his efforts. "You're both flying back to the States tonight."
Heinman senior banged the polished desk with his fist. "You're a fool, Urquet, if that's all you've managed to think up!"
"With respect, Frank, there's more," Urquet protested. "You came on the airplane from New York earlier this evening. You and the president."
"The hell we did! What gives with you tonight, Urquet?"
"Not really, of course." Urquet wondered how he could possibly explain his proposal to these two jumpy men. "You're going to be dressed as ground crew."
Jason had been studying the large map of Switzerland on the wall. "Sounds brilliant to me."
"Then you must let me explain it slowly, so even you can understand it." Urquet turned to the ex-president. "Two loyal DCI men have flown into Geneva on board your Gulfstream from New Jersey, but they've stayed on board. As soon as you get to the airport, you'll both be given coveralls and passes. You enter the operational side dressed as ground crew. Once you're there, you exchange clothes with the DCI men on board the jet. A few minutes later, they come back out dressed as ground crew, and you two gentlemen put on the business suits. You then leave the airplane and enter Switzerland through customs and immigration with your passports."
"And they'll think we've just arrived?"
Jason was catching on. The old man was still frowning.
"Customs have been told you're asleep aboard the Gulfstream right now and are not to be disturbed."
"And the switch won't be noticed," said Jason.
"Exactly." Urquet gave a calculated sigh. "They'll not only think you've just arrived -- we'll be able to prove it. I made sure your names were filed on the flight plan, and air traffic control will confirm that your jet came direct from America with no stops. So you could not possibly have been up in the north of France last night."
Urquet waited.
Jason Heinman was quicker than his father. Maybe he was going to make the grade as president after all. "And we return to the States tomorrow, officially? That should keep those frog cops too confused to apply for extradition. As if the hell they would, anyway." He nodded his head appreciatively. "Good planning, Urquet. You're a valuable man in the DCI organization. I'm looking for a vice-president right now."
"It's something I'll need to consider." Simon Urquet could have added that his job seemed to consist solely of getting DCI out of the mire. "I'll have to know more details of your problems in France -- as soon as you're back in the States. I fancy you'll still be needing some help when you touch down."
*
"WE'RE going in now," said Matt quietly. He turned to Sophie who stood, eyes wide, beside him on the pavement. A brief meal at the hotel seemed to have done her good. "You are ready to tell Monsieur Urquet your story, madame?"
Sophie nodded solemnly.
Matt checked for movement inside the entrance. He'd been aware of uniformed security staff walking about inside the building.
"They will stop us at the front door," said Zoé. "Perhaps the 'Einmans they are here already."
"Stop worrying about them," said Matt. "I don't think they're coming."
"Perhaps Monsieur Urquet was wrong. Perhaps they have gone straight to the airport," suggested Zoé.
"Perhaps," agreed Matt. "All we can do is convince Urquet that his bosses are up to no good, and leave it to him to sort out." He turned to Sophie. "Please do not hold anything back, madame. There was something about the way Monsieur Urquet spoke to me on the phone. The man has doubts. I believe he will listen if you tell the truth."
"Ah, the truth, Matthieu. Yes, I will tell the truth about the 'Einmans."
Zoé still sounded worried. "It is a risk too big."
"If we wait any longer, Monsieur Urquet will go home."
"He might refuse to see us."
Matt ignored Zoé as he suddenly realized that the building reminded him of the biscuit factory back home, but on a much grander scale.
Zoé caught his expression. "You are not listening," she admonished him. "I said Monsieur Urquet might refuse to see us."
"I could march in there pretending to be a DCI executive." He was onto plan Z by now.
"Executive?"
"Chemical safety check. A surprise visit on the personal orders of the president," said Matt. "I'll demand to see Urquet."
"And how will you explain Sophie and me?"
"You can be the nurse, and Madame Sophie can be ... the canary testing for pure air. I don't know, but I'll think of something. I wouldn't mind having that young priest with us. He was full of good ideas."
"Father Alban will still be riding south on his bicycle to get away from Lacoste, I think."
"Maybe he got down here before us. That Renault was slow." Some day he'd shake Father Alban by the hand.
Zoé breathed in sharply. "Sophie, are you ready?"
Matt started to feel uneasy. "Tell me, do I look presentable enough to be a safety executive?"
Zoé shook her head.
Matt ignored her. There must be a foolproof way to get an old woman inside. He ran his fingers through his short hair and walked towards the Art Deco building. As they approached the door the solution occurred to him. "Does old Frank Heinman have a wife?"
Zoé looked puzzled. "I do not know."
"Well, he has now." Matt nodded towards Sophie. "Madame Sophie, do you speak English?"
"Not very well." She caught hold of his arm. "Please, I am a little bit frightened."
Matt nodded. "We're all a bit frightened. Whatever anyone says to you, don't say a word. Keep looking at me. When I nod, you nod. When I shake my head, you do the same. And try to act frail and unsteady. All right?"
"If you say so, Matthieu, but I do not want to be a nuisance."
"Believe me, Sophie, you are not a nuisance."
The security guard looked surprised to find three strangers approaching the wide entrance. He stood defensively in the doorway.
Matt kept walking. "This is the president's mother," he announced. "We've brought her from the airport." He hoped his fake American accent was good enough.
"You have some ID?" queried the guard.
"Mrs. Heinman doesn't carry ID," retorted Matt. "She's not staff."
"Are you Mrs. Heinman?"
Matt nudged Sophie, and nodded. Sophie copied vigorously.
"We have to escort Mrs. Heinman to Mr. Urquet's office to wait for the president," said Matt. "She hasn't been well."
The guard drew himself almost to attention and looked at Matt closely. "Why, yes, but I need identity." He sounded American, which was bad news. Matt knew his attempt at the accent was dismal.
"Urquet knows Mrs. Heinman." Matt could only hope that the guard came from some remote part of the States and didn't know one accent from another. Or from Mars.
"I'm not sure Mr. Urquet is here."
"Of course Urquet is here," said Matt quickly. "I was with the president when he spoke to him on the phone not many minutes ago."
A second guard came from behind the reception desk. "Trouble?"
"It's the president's mother come to see Mr. Urquet. On the president's orders. She's not well."
If she existed, neither of the guards could have met Mrs. Heinman face to face. Matt watched the effects of the magic word president on the second guard. He was a creep.
"Maybe you should sit here in reception, Mrs. Heinman. I'll phone Mr. Urquet and tell him to come down."
Sophie took her cue from Matt and shook her head.
"Then you'd better follow me, Mrs. Heinman."
The second guard sounded amiable. Matt could see a light at the far end of the corridor.
"I know we're expecting the president and his father, but I didn't know about you, Mrs. Heinman." The guard spoke loudly. "Did you come on the same flight?"
Matt nodded. And so did Sophie.
"Good flight from New Jersey?"
"Not bad," said Matt, deciding that he had been on the plane as well. "Not bad at all." He must be careful not to get too familiar with these men. The idea was to intimidate them.
"Are the president and Mr. Heinman senior on their way?"
Matt said nothing.
"Looks like Mr. Urquet is in, sir. Only we don't always know the movements of senior staff. They come and go to the car park through a secure private staircase."
"We'll see Urquet by ourselves," said Matt, in a tone intended to dismiss the security man.
The guard hesitated. "If you say so, only it sounds as if Mr. Urquet isn't alone."
Urquet with visitors was something he'd not considered. Matt was unprepared, and let himself waver just a moment. Perhaps the guard sensed it.
"Shall I knock, sir?"
The guard might be over-helpful, but more likely he was now suspicious of his visitors. Probably it was the hopeless American accent. The man reached forward and knocked loudly on the door.
The sound of voices in the room ceased abruptly.
Chapter 27
FRANK HEINMAN looked up from the table as one of his security guards pushed the door open.
"The president's mother to see you, Mr. Urquet."
Frank jumped at the guard's words, but turned quickly to face the wall, motioning to Jason to do the same.
"Are you Simon Urquet?" The voice was that of an Englishman.
"And who are you?" said Urquet.
Frank turned slowly to see a fair-haired man standing with two women inside the open door. The man spoke confidently.
"Mr. Urquet, I came to tell you that the Heinmans are murderers, but I can see they're already here."
Frank knew Urquet's ingenious plan was falling apart. "You keep them here, Urquet. I'm going with Jason to the airport."
The security man hovered uncertainly while the Englishman jumped forward, his eyes blazing. "Just stay still, all of you," he shouted angrily. "I'm Alec Rider's grandson. You murdered my grandfather in hospital, Mr. Heinman. And this is Sophie Boissant. You tried to kill her last night. You killed her neighbor instead."
Frank felt his protests catching in his throat. "I ... I don't know..."
"Well, I know," snapped Rider. "You came to France to find a gas that DCI made in the war. Here, I've got some for you."
Frank watched the man reach into his pocket. This was the English PI who'd written to NATA; the PI who had got Miller into hospital. And the fool had Berlitzan oil. How the hell Rider had got it wasn't important -- but he could kill them all.
"If you don't let us go, I'm going to release it," Rider persisted. He looked mad enough to do it, too.
Frank turned to the guard, his chest tight with anxiety. "We can negotiate this alone. And I don't want you pressing any alarms."
Urquet nodded to the guard who walked reluctantly out of the room, pausing for one last look as he closed the door.
Frank turned to Urquet. "Kill the three of them."
"You're forgetting the poison gas," said Rider.
The English PI had become a nuisance. Frank turned on him angrily. "You're not going to wreck DCI, you young fool. If you understood anything about company loyalty, you'd see just how much of a mistake you've made in coming here."
Urquet slowly opened a drawer in his desk. From it he produced a Walther P99. He kept it low on his lap, holding the chunky grip tightly. Frank caught his eye.
"Okay, Urquet, give me the gun and I'll shoot them if you're afraid to pull the trigger."
Simon Urquet hesitated. "Not here, Frank. Someone will hear the shots."
Jason pointed at the PI. "Rider's only bluffing about the oil." Now that Urquet's gun was holding the three intruders back, he came forward.
Frank still felt confused. "We have to be sure."
Jason laughed. "I'm sure, you stupid old man. I've got them all in my pocket."
Frank watched as his son produced seven gleaming gold cylinders from his jacket. The Berlitzan oil that had been destroyed! He'd promised. Hell, they were betraying DCI from within now.
"Search the Englishman, Jason." Frank tried to keep his composure. "We have to be sure."
Jason dropped the cylinders on the desk and caught hold of Rider. He handled him with a deliberate roughness, and found nothing. The PI had been bluffing. When he came to the young woman his eyes beamed with pleasure as he ran his hands up inside her dress.
She brought her knee up hard between his legs.
It was an elementary move but it caught Jason. Frank screwed up his face as his son collapsed across the desktop in agony, knocking the gold cylinders to the floor. "Shoot them, damn you, Urquet! Shoot them!"
Urquet kept the Walther pointed but unfired. "You go, Frank. I can handle this. I'll phone through to the airport and make sure you're met outside the terminal."
Frank nodded. Simon Urquet was a good company man. A man like this would stay loyal. "Make sure you kill them, Urquet, or they'll bring DCI down in disgrace. I'll see you're okay."
"Thanks, Frank, I appreciate that."
Jason groped for his precious cylinders, probably unable to see clearly through streaming eyes. Frank tried to see if his son was successful in retrieving the small cylinders, but it was dark under the desk. Then Jason stood up and put his hands close to the young woman. "I hope you rot in hell!"
Frank dragged his limping son through the inner door that led down to the secure car park. As he closed the door he hesitated. His corporate lawyer seemed to be talking to the intruders in a tone that sounded almost conciliatory.
"You'd better tell me what's going on, before the guard comes back," he could hear Urquet saying.
Frank flung the door open, unable to contain his anger. "Don't question them, Urquet. Shoot them now. They're a danger to the whole structure of DCI!"
Urquet nodded. "Just go, Frank. I know what to do."
Frank Heinman sat with his head resting in his hands as Jason drove the Volvo station wagon to Geneva airport. The Rider family had turned DCI upside down with their interference. Could Urquet really get them out of this one?
"Wake up, you old fool," Jason snapped as he brought the vehicle to a sudden halt with a screech of brakes.
Frank shook his head. The Volvo would be devastating evidence of their presence in northern France when it was found here at Geneva airport, on yellow lines outside the departure terminal. Maybe Urquet could do something about it.
/> Jason jumped out and started running.
"Where the hell are you going, boy?" Frank called angrily. Without Jason he felt exposed.
Jason stopped. "I thought I saw ... someone I knew. I'll be back in a moment."
Frank swore loudly as Jason hurried across the lounge and started talking to two men.
"Are you Mr. H?"
The tap on his shoulder from behind made him jump. Frank turned to see a man in white coveralls with an airline insignia on the pocket.
"I'm taking you to the service area, Mr. H. There's an airplane you have to meet."
Frank nodded. Mr. H? At least Urquet had been diplomatic and not blabbed his mouth off to everyone until the whole world knew of the plan. "My son's over there." He pointed towards the departure desks, but Jason had gone. So had the two men he'd been with.
"You have to be quick, Mr. H," urged the man in white coveralls.
Frank looked round the airport lounge in panic, desperately seeking Jason. "We'll have to wait," he insisted. Where the hell had the boy got to?
*
URQUET MADE his phone call to his contact at the airport, confirming that the Heinmans were on their way. Matt decided the lawyer looked uneasy as he sat at his desk with the Walther in his lap.
The way down to the car park would make a good escape route, taking them away from the front door and the security guards. Urquet's keys were on the desk, on a Porsche key ring. Almost certainly he had a car down there. Matt held on to Zoé and wished he could communicate with her, to pass on his plan. Then Sophie caught his eye and he sensed what he could only describe as an immediate telepathic exchange with the old woman. They had both glanced at the door just before their eyes met.
Matt decided to go for it. Sophie caught his eye again. It was amazing how the two of them interacted. He changed his grip on Zoé's arm, slowly increasing the pressure twice in quick succession. That should signal to her that something was happening.
"Monsieur Urquet," said Sophie in French, "Those two Americans are wicked men." She started to tell about the Heinmans, running back over the wartime incident in France. Suddenly she stood up and seized her throat, her breath coming in great gasps. Then she slumped to the ground.
Matt needed no more prompting. As Urquet bent over the choking woman he snatched the keys from the desk. He pointed to the door and tugged a protesting Zoé towards it.