Beth looked out the small oval window of the 747. It was so green. She didn’t expect that, she was so used to the charred plains and hills of California and Texas. She ran her thumb over the vinyl of her passport, ready to show it to immigration. She was only here for two hours but she could add the United Kingdom to the list of countries she had been to. A million years ago, at university, before Torres, before the DEA, her dream was to see the world. She had planned on joining the Foreign Service. She had taken the exam. She was just waiting to see if she got in but then the DEA set up a stall in the quad at Sacramento State University, and the rest was history. In one afternoon her life changed forever. The Administration offered her a job and she gave up her dreams, because a bird in the hand was better than two in the bush. She had student loans to deal with and her sister’s tuition to be paid. The DEA was a sure thing. She thought she was being responsible, but now she knew she had been a coward.
What if she had been brave? What if she had followed her dreams? Where would she be now? Somewhere in South America or the Middle East probably, because she spoke Spanish and Arabic. No matter where she ended up, Paige would still be alive. Alejandra would still have her biological family. Patterson would still be in Texas. And Torres… She didn’t know where he would be, but it would be someplace where he could not hurt her.
Beth pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter now. This was the path she was on and she would follow it to the end. She had made her choices, now she had to live with them.
What time was it in Texas? She wanted to call her mom. Not to talk, her mom could not speak any more; she just wanted to check in with nurses, make sure everything was OK. When she left she had just enough time to take Alejandra to Jessop’s house and get her settled in. It killed Beth to leave her but she knew she would be safe with Larry and Andrea. Beth hated Larry right now for not telling her it was he and Torres who had brought Ignacio Chavez into the country, but Larry would keep Ally safe.
And Beth had nobody else to ask. That was the long and short of it. Beth had nobody. She was now well and truly alone. Beth pushed the thought away, she did have someone: she had her daughter.
Alejandra had to be the most resilient child ever created. She took everything in her stride. That child deserved so much more than the hand she had been dealt. She deserved a better mom, someone with her shit together for a start. She deserved a mom who was there to pick her up from school and bake cookies. God she deserved more, but she got Beth. Beth filed away her guilt to the appropriate box to be dealt with later.
It was early afternoon when Beth landed in France. Didier Roux, the commander of the Administrative Police Division offered to pick her up in Nice and drive her the twenty miles to Monaco but Beth preferred to get the train because it gave her a chance to see the country without having to make small talk. She was shit at small talk at the best of times. Today she wasn’t sure if she would be able to hold a coherent conversation.
She should have brought her sunglasses. The sun reflected off the clear water of the Mediterranean. She had to squint to see the rows of yachts that lined the coasts. There must be a law that prevented them from harboring directly on the coast because there was a clear perimeter between land and the neat clusters of luxury boats. Nice and Monaco were built on the side of a cliff, narrow roads led down to the white sandy beaches. The houses in Nice were beautiful—all soft pastels, dotted against an arid backdrop—but they were humbled by the sprawling mansions of Monaco. There was no clear border between France and Monaco but she knew immediately when she had crossed over because things went from grand to epic. Beth craned her neck to take it all in. It was all so pristine and orderly.
Monaco was beautiful, no two ways about it, no wonder it was the playground of the rich and famous. Statistically it was also the safest place on Earth; it might have something to do with the abnormally high police presence. Monaco had the largest police force per-capita and per-area, it was a tiny place but it was well guarded.
When the train stopped, Beth pulled her suitcase down and reached for her briefcase. A middle-aged man offered to help her off the train. Beth didn’t speak French but it was clear from his gestures he was trying to help. She held up her hand to decline. Only after he turned around she remembered to smile and say “Thank you.” She needed a social skills refresher course. People could offer to help, just because they were helpful. Not everyone was working an angle.
It was a five minute walk to the police station. The building could only be described as quaint, with its green awnings and weathered copper roof and Juliet balconies. It looked like it belonged in a fairytale, the whole country did.
Beth was met at the door by an officer. “Agent Thomson.” She flashed her badge. She reminded herself to smile and offer her hand.
“Pleasure to meet you. I am Didier Roux. We have been expecting you.” Beth’s eyes narrowed. He was fifteen years older and fifty pounds heavier than the picture she had seen. But then again, Beth wasn’t the fresh-faced recruit they were likely to have on file.
He led her to a small office in the back of the building. The window looked out onto palm trees and perfectly manicured hedges; it was a million miles from the concrete parking lot and strip mall Beth could see from her office. The whole tiny country must employ the same gardener as Disneyland because every flower was in full bloom and every topiary was perfectly shaped. It was November, flowers should not be in bloom, but the public gardens of Monaco disputed that fact.
“Officially the Criminal Police Division and Interpol will be in charge of this operation, but I will oversee the transfer of Mr. Zayat into American custody. The warrant came through last night.”
Beth let out the breath she had been holding. When she left Dallas, the warrant still had not been issued. Well done, Jessop. She still detested him for his role in her sister’s death, but he got his job done. Credit where credit was due.
“When are you going to pick him up?”
“This evening. He should be in custody by dinnertime.” His English was heavily accented but perfect.
Beth nodded. That would give her enough time to go to the hotel and have a quick shower. She needed to wash her hair and change her clothes. She glanced down at her watch, still too early to phone her mom’s care home. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She would just go see her when she got back. Her mom didn’t know the difference, Beth needed to let that guilt go, because there was plenty more guilt looking to take its place.
“Right. I’m going to go get cleaned up. Shall we say an hour and then I can meet the team. Go over everything.”
Didier looked bemused. “What is to go over? We have invited Mr. Zayat in for questioning.”
“You invited him?” She scrubbed her hands over her face. Something was being lost in translation. Damn she wished she spoke French. Now she understood what Patterson felt like.
“Yes, we have asked him to come in this afternoon.”
Oh God he was serious. They had extended a polite invitation to a wanted criminal. Beth picked imaginary lint off of her trousers as she considered her words. This wasn’t her jurisdiction. She needed to respect local policy. “And if he declines your invitation?”
Didier shrugged his shoulders, his lips pursing in consideration.
Beth took in a sharp breath. He hadn’t even considered the possibility, because criminals always respect laws and invitations. “Who’s watching his house?” Please say there is surveillance on him. Beth’s support team was back in Texas because she was only here for an interview. If they lost him now, God only knew when or if they would find him.
He shrugged his shoulders again. “Why would he not come?”
Beth bit her lip to keep from giving him an exhaustive list of reasons. The need to swear overwhelmed her but she was not going to play the role of ugly American just yet, she was fairly confident she would have plenty of time to play that card later.
“Fabulous,” she forced a smile into place. Now was a great time to work on those social skills. “Thank you so much for you cooperation and hospitality.” Her words said thank you, but her tone still screamed “screw you”. She was going to need to work on that…later. Now she was going to take a shower and brush twenty-four hour of scuzz off her teeth.
The bed was far too inviting, all eight pillows and fluffy white duvet. If she even considered sitting down she would be asleep before she was horizontal. Instead, she threw her bags on the bed and stripped off her clothes. A quick shower and she would be ready to go back and tackle what was likely to be the most civilized interview she ever conducted. She would not be surprised if they provided refreshments. As Dorothy would say, she certainly wasn’t in Kansas any more.
When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she stopped and forced herself to smile. Did other people need reminded? Too big…she looked like the Cheshire Cat…or a serial killer. She relaxed her muscles. There that was better; it looked natural. It didn’t feel remotely natural but maybe with practice.
Beth pulled on a fresh skirt. She had to suck in a sharp breath to button it. She ran a hand over her belly. Soon sucking in would be useless but today she could cover it up. She pulled on her suit jacket. She glanced at her watch—just enough time to Skype Alejandra.
Jessop answered the call. He looked like he had just been for his morning run. “Morning, Thomson. Everything good?”
She nodded. “Thanks for getting the warrant. I am meeting Zayat this afternoon, in half an hour actually.” She knew from experience, cutting through international red tape was excruciating. Jessop would have had to call in all manner of favors. He had done well.
“Good. Call when it’s done.”
“Yes, sir.” Conversation between them was still stilted and it probably would be for a while, or forever, but they were both adult enough to put things to one side and get the job done, or more likely, they both had a propensity for ignoring unpleasant realities. The job had trained them well for that.
She was just glad he had not forced the issue when she told him that there was no way she would allow Torres to accompany her to Monaco. She had expected the fight of her career, but Jessop had quietly capitulated, allowing her to come to Europe without a partner.
“Alejandra is just finishing breakfast. Would you like to speak to her?”
“Please.”
Moments later, her daughter’s face filled the small screen of her phone. “Hello, Pretty Girl. I missed you.” It had only been twenty-four hours but it was too long to go without seeing her daughter. Thanks to her job, she missed too much of Ally’s life, but she did her best to carve out time every day just for them, usually at night when she read her stories and discussed their day.
“Hello, Mama. Did you catch the bad guy?” Beth smiled at her daughter’s question. She made a mental note to remember what it felt like so she could do it later.
“Almost. As soon as I do, I’m coming home.” Alejandra had a very simplified knowledge of Beth’s career: she caught bad guys. She loved the binary worldview of five-year-olds: good and bad, black and white. If life were only that cut and dry…
“Mama, can I show you what I made?”
“Of course.” Beth prepared to ooh and ahh over her daughter’s latest painting but when she returned she was holding a cupcake that looked like Cookie Monster; it even had a little cookie in his mouth and a crumb moustache. The icing was the exact shade of blue. She didn’t even know food coloring came in that particular hue.
“Miss Andrea and I made cupcakes last night.”
“You made that?” Beth failed to keep the disbelief from her voice. The cupcake was less snack and more work of art. It certainly did not look like any of the treats she had whipped up with the help of a box.
Alejandra nodded. “Please show her the other ones too, Miss Andrea.” Alejandra turned so the camera was facing the large expanse of marble counter covered in small edible masterpieces. Each cupcake represented a different Muppet character. Andrea held up a Miss Piggy complete with a string of pearls made from mini marshmallows.
“Wow,” Beth said.
Andrea smiled. “We had a bit of time last night after we got back from the stables. Nothing fancy, just a bit of fun,” she explained almost apologetically. She pretended to tuck a stray lock of frosted blonde hair behind her ear. Even at the crack of dawn, she looked completely put together; her lipstick matched her nail polish and her perfectly coiffed hair would have withstood a wind tunnel. She had the kind of high maintenance beauty reserved for Texas beauty queens.
Beth absently stroked her wet hair.
“I rode Tornay,” Alejandra chimed in.
“Excellent.” Alejandra loved horses but she had not been riding since Paige died. Beth wasn’t an animal person, she was barely a human person, but she needed to make more of an effort for Alejandra. Her daughter loved animals as much as Paige did.
“Mama, can I stay longer with Miss Andrea and Mr. Larry?”
Beth bit back her disappointment. She was glad Alejandra had settled in, of course she was. What kind of needy pathetic excuse of a mother would she be if she were sad that her daughter did not miss her? Who could blame Alejandra for wanting to stay at Camp Jessop, with the pony rides and the pastry chef quality baked goods? Beth forced herself to smile. Jealous was not a good look on her. She would just have to try harder. As soon as she got home she would be baking cookies with Alejandra, two flavors, heck she would even be icing them…with sprinkles. “I love you, Pretty Girl. Mama loves you so much.”
“I love you too. I miss you, Mama.” Beth blew her daughter a kiss through the small screen.
Beth checked her hair in the mirror, instead of blow-drying it; she secured it in a tight bun at the base of her neck. She was not up to the Texas standard of beauty typified by Andrea Jessop but she had looked worse.
She grabbed her briefcase and made the five-minute walk back to the police station.
Didier greeted her at the door and quickly began introducing her to the dozen officers gathered in the lobby. She nodded and smiled as each was introduced with their title and position. She wasn’t going to remember any of them. Nametags would not go amiss at times like this but ultimately none of them mattered. She was here for one man.
“Zayat is here,” Didier said.
The satisfied curl to his mouth did not go unnoticed. Point for the civilized way of doing things. Beth reminded herself to return the smile and was surprised by how easily it came this time.
She took a deep breath. It was time. She let her eye lashes rest on her cheek a fraction longer than they should as she gave herself an abbreviated version of her pep talk. “OK. Let’s get it done.”
Beth cracked her knuckles. “Is he in there?”
Didier nodded. “Yes. He is with your partner.”
Beth’s heart stopped in her chest. Her head snapped round to see Didier. Had she misheard him? “My who? My partner left the task force a couple months ago. It’s just me.”
Didier gestured to the side of his own face with a slashing motion.
A hard knot settled in the pit of her stomach. Torres. Stupid mother fucking son of a bitch bastard. Beth squeezed her hands into fists.
Silently she screamed every swear word she knew in increasingly bizarre combinations. Torres was here. Of course he was, because her life wasn’t complicated enough. She was going to kill him…as soon as she killed Jessop. She had only just spoken to the man. He could have given her the heads up. “Hey I sent your estranged husband to Europe.” Christ, she should have known. Larry had given up far too easily. He wasn’t giving in; he was avoiding a fight. Coward.
Beth tapped her foot on the marble tiles. Her pep talk and pre -interview ritual did not include this eventuality. Oh screw it. Nobody was better at ignoring details than she was. The scary tattooed mountain of a man was just another detail.
Beth followed Didier into the interrogation room, which looked more like a waiting room at a day spa. The same cream marble tiles lined the floor and the walls were covered in mahogany panels. The only thing that betrayed its actual purpose was the expansive two-way mirror, though she had to hand it to them, the ornate gold frame added something to it. Instead of the concrete tables she was used to, there was a polished oak table with the crest of Monaco—two sword-bearing monks in brown robes guarding a harlequin scroll—fashioned in the center out of various species of wood and mother of pearl.
Directly across from her was Bahar Zayat. Her heart jumped into her throat when she finally laid eyes on him. He finally had a face; this was real. Slowly she took in each of his features. He had an olive complexion with dark brown, almost black hair. His eyes were small and deep set, making him look like he was permanently squinting, and his nose was rather too large for his face. Though he was sitting, she gauged that he was average height but his build was slight. Actually he probably had an average build but sitting next to Torres’ heavily muscled frame made it hard to judge.
Only briefly did her gaze go to Torres. She tried not to look at him, but true to form her body betrayed her. Both Torres and Zayat stood when Beth entered the room.
“Agent Thomson,” Torres greeted her but there was no warmth in his tone and not even the smallest flicker of recognition in his eyes.
“Agent Torres.” Beth forced herself to look him square in the eyes. Nothing. There was nothing there but calculated ice. Her gut clenched. He shouldn’t be here.
After a moment she turned to Zayat. “Alsalam Aalikum,” she greeted him in Arabic.
His small eyes widened enough to register his surprise.
“You speak Arabic?” he asked in his native tongue.
“Yes.” She was fluent in Arabic. She learned it to make her a more attractive candidate for the Foreign Service but it also made her a valuable asset in the world of narco terrorism. Funny the way things work out.
“Rare, a woman of beauty and intellect.”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t beautiful but he had the manners to bullshit her. A refined criminal, she had never had the pleasure of meeting one of his kind before. She took a moment to consider the new information. She already knew she was going to have to come at this from a different angle. Her usual threats lacked finesse. Usually her biggest concern when she entered an interrogation was physical assault, either with fists or human excrement thrown at her; somehow she doubted that was Zayat’s style. He was more likely to hurl thinly veiled insults.
This interview may be different but at its core it was the same: this was about information, power and intimidation—the trinity.
Beth waited until every agent had filed into the room. She had never conducted an interview with more than Patterson in the room. There were far too many of them. She stared at Zayat, training herself to tune out everyone else.
“Ejles min fadhlek.” Beth indicated to the chair, inviting Zayat to sit down.
Zayat held up a hand. “Please speak English. Or French, do you speak French?” There was a slight challenge in his clipped tone, subtle but it was there.
“English will be fine.” She bit the side of her cheek to disguise her disappointment. Torres always said she wore her emotions. She didn’t want Zayat to know he had back-footed her by refusing to speak Arabic. It would be very difficult to adequately convey meaningful threats whilst surrounded by agents from the National Police and Interpol. In Arabic she had the upper hand, no one but her and Zayat would know what she was threatening him with.
Didier pulled out a high-back leather chair and gestured for Beth to sit. Her eyes widened. This wasn’t a date, this was an interrogation and she was the lead investigator. There were manners and there was patronizing. Beth glanced around the room at all the unfamiliar faces; all men—it was the Old Boys Club European style.
This was nothing new to her, she worked in a male-dominated field and she excelled at it. Back home she could cut through the weaker sex bullshit with an impromptu hand-to-hand combat session. Nothing put a man in his place better than pinning him to the ground, sadly that didn’t seem like an option here.
Beth forced herself to smile, trying to remember what the natural one felt like and took her seat. Only after she sat did all the other men join her at the table.
“First of all, Mr. Zayat, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to it for a very long time.” That much wasn’t a lie. She had been chasing his paper trail for years, meeting him, seeing him face to face was a payoff very long in the making.
“And I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss. Thomson. Is it Miss?”
Torres’ hard stare burned her skin but she didn’t look at him. He wasn’t there; none of the others were there. This was about her and Zayat. She nodded. “Yes, it is Miss. I am single. And you, Mr. Zayat?”
He smiled. “Yes. Alas love eludes us both.”
Beth scrutinized his face, searching for any small expression that would betray him. He was lying, she knew that from reading the transcripts from the wiretap, but she wanted to see it on his face, learn his “tell”. But there was nothing, his features blank.
“Shame. To be single I mean, since you have amassed such a fortune. And no one to share it with. No son to someday inherit your business.”
Still nothing. He smiled slightly, he face impassive. “Perhaps someday. And perhaps someday, you will find a mate as well.”
“Perhaps.”
Everyone turned when a woman entered the room carrying a tray with a jug of water. She set it down on the table and began to pour a glass for everyone, using silver tongs to drop a slice of lemon into each individual glass.
Beth tapped her fingers on the polished oak. Unbelievable. They really were serving refreshments at an interrogation. If someone brought in tea and cake, she was going to scream. In all honesty, she would eat the cake and then scream, and then probably have a second piece of cake.
Beth held up her hand when she was offered a glass. “No thank you.”
“Right, Mr. Zayat. Unless there are going to be any more distractions,” Beth threw Didier a menacing glance, “I think we should begin. First of all: congratulations on your success. You have had an amazing run. I know I shouldn’t brag, but I’m up there with the best when it comes to forensic accountants, and you made me work for it. You were a very hard man to find.”
Zayat shrugged. “I’m honored that you would waste your time on a humble accountant. I’m flattered indeed but surely you must know that I have no information that would be of any use to a woman in your position.”
Beth held up a hand. “False modesty doesn’t become you. You’re good. There is no shame in admitting that. If I were going to dabble in arms dealing and needed someone to launder the money, I would definitely go with you.”
Zayat opened his mouth to speak but Beth cut him off. “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but your technique was impeccable, I would go as far as to say beautiful. You really have a gift. The layering of your transactions is so convoluted; by the time the money is integrated it looks squeaky clean. Well done on that. And your aliases, those were epic.” Beth outreached her arms to demonstrate. “Not going to lie, you lost me quite a few times. And then the way you channeled money through legit businesses in North America and Europe, again excellent. That made my job so much harder, so again well played. A small bit of criticism here, but please take it in the spirit in which it is meant—the gambling, and tanning salons were kind of obvious. Everyone launders money that way. You’re better than that. I did however like the carpet shop in Edinburgh that hadn’t sold a carpet since 1997. Those were fun accounts to read.”
Zayat took in controlled breath. If she was getting to him, he was hiding it well. “I really have no idea why I am here, Miss Thomson. I would love to be of service, but I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I assure you, all my business transactions are completely legitimate and comply with international law.”
“All of them?” Beth said dubiously. “You have a lot of transactions. Are they all legit?” Beth reached into her briefcase and produced a binder of bank statements. She slid it across the table to him. “Fascinating stuff in here. You know what I found the most impressive?”
When he didn’t respond she said. “Far and away the most impressive part is you never lost more than seven percent during the layering stage. Most criminals, I hope you don’t mind me calling you a criminal, but I like to call a spade a spade. As I was saying, most criminals lose at least three times that amount. You’re good.” She shook her head. “No you’re excellent. Credit where credit is due. Well done, Mr. Zayat. If you’re going to do a job, do it well. Am I right?”
He pursed his lips and gave a non-committal shrug.
“You have had a good run.”
Again he shrugged. “I have been very fortunate. Luck has been on my side.”
“Luck. It that what you are calling it? You turned millions into billions, that isn’t luck, that is skill. But it does beg the question, where do your investments come from?”
Zayat took a long sip of water, his long fingers brushing the condensation on the glass. “Your Arabic is good, but your understanding of Arab culture is greatly lacking. I could not possibly speak of my investors with you.”
“I think you’ll find, you are compelled to tell me.”
Systemically he wiped every droplet of water from the outside of his glass. “I think you will find, everything I am prepared to tell you is contained in that folder.” He pointed down at the black binder in front of him. “My apologies for not being of more use.”
Zayat pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m done here. Lovely to meet you, Miss Thomson.”
“I’m not done yet.”
“If you had something to charge me with, I would have been arrested. Good day.”
She had enough to charge him but she wanted something bigger from him. She wanted El Escorpion. “I have enough to see you deported back to Syria and put on a no-fly list for every country in the Western World.
Again he shrugged his shoulders.
“You are supplying arms to both sides of the conflict in Syria,” she announced as she stood. “Before you land in Damascus, I will make sure every rebel within 100 miles has a picture of you and a list of arms you have sold to everyone in the Arab World. You have pissed off a lot of people, Mr. Zayat. You can’t play both sides and not expect it to bite you in the ass. Well this is it biting you in the ass. Wherever you go, you will be known and wanted. If one faction doesn’t kill you, the other will. Give me the name of the man you work for, and I can protect you. No time, witness protection, I can make it happen. Give me El Escorpion or you’re dead.”
Zayat stopped just short of the door and turned. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Thomson.”
Beth’s heart thundered against her ribs. It was beating fast enough to make it hard to breathe. She couldn’t lose him. As soon as he left he would be gone. She wouldn’t catch him again, not before…not before April. This was her shot.
“Ebnek andi.” I have your son. She tried to keep her voice neutral but it came out in a desperate pleading shriek.
Zayat froze, his back still to her.
“Ahmed Afandi.” She said his son’s name so Zayat would know she was serious.
Zayat spun on his heel. “What did you say? Perhaps your Arabic is not what you think it is.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed frantically. There it was. His “tell”.
She smiled inwardly. She had Zayat exactly where she needed him but still her heart didn’t slow. “My Arabic is perfect. How is your hearing? Ebnek andi.” She slowly enunciated the words for effect.
He swallowed again, and then again.
This time it was Beth who smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “It really was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Zayat. This was everything I hoped for and more.” She extended her hand to him. His fingers shook as their palms touched. “You have no idea how very useful this has been for me. Thank you. If you remember anything that might be useful to the case, I’m staying at the Hotel Columbus. Please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
Beth didn’t breathe until Zayat had left the room. Please let him take the bait. Quickly she shoved the folder back into her briefcase. She needed to get back to the hotel. He would come to her. She had his child.