After his futile search for Roquebrun’s whereabouts, Dulac phoned Garcia and convinced him to have Roquebrun contact him. Roquebrun agreed to meet Dulac at Chez Aurélie, one of the seizieme arrondissement’s more discreet and intimate cafés. As he sipped his glass of chilled rosé, Dulac kept reminding himself that behind the mercenary’s mustachioed smile, sad droopy eyelids and wire-framed spectacles, resided not a benign university professor about to admonish his student, but a battle-hardened killer out for the pleasure of the hunt and the spilling of human blood.
‘You must understand that de Ségur is to stand trial in France. He’s no good to me dead, otherwise the deal is off. Is that clear?’ Dulac said.
‘If he’s hiding out in Belize, he’s got a lot of locals on his payroll. There’s bound to be collateral damage,’ said Roquebrun.
‘That’s your problem. Alive or no deal.’
Roquebrun twisted one of the ends of his mustache for a moment, as if to think more clearly. ‘I can manage that. Any satellite photos?’
‘Yes. We’ve identified four buildings, smack in the middle of the Mayan Mountain Range: one main and three smaller houses, the whole thing surrounded by a barbed wire fence, probably electrified. He’s got a generator plant supplying the power. He has a helicopter at the north-east end of the compound.’
‘He lives well.’
‘That’s a matter of perspective. Self-imprisonment has never held any great appeal to me.’
‘He’s undoubtedly bought a lot of tolerance from public officials and a lot of protection.’ Roquebrun looked squarely at Dulac. ‘For this operation to be successful, Mr Dulac, we need two things: the non-interference of the Belizean police and the element of surprise.’
Dulac bit into the cold and overcooked bavette steak. He put down his knife and fork and summoned the waiter. ‘Garçon, you dare call this steak? Take this, this rhinoceros hide back and get me something edible, a salmon filet or something. Surely you can’t overcook that?’
‘Yes sir, I mean no sir,’ said the contrite waiter.
Dulac turned to Roquebrun. ‘What about men? You have your, your—’
‘Mercenaries, Mr Dulac, mercenaries. That’s what we are. I need two days’ notice to round up my team. They’re enjoying a bit of R and R, after we hammered the piss out of those Colombian buggers.’
‘Anything to do with the Ines Botalla rescue?’
Roquebrun looked around warily at the rest of the café’s patrons. ‘Officially, no. Unofficially, yes,’ he whispered, taking Dulac into his confidence.
‘That cost the French government $20 million US, including the payments to the Colombian government. Your clients’ pockets better be deep.’
‘How deep?’
Roquebrun paused, stared at Dulac, and twisted the other end of his mustache. ‘We’re talking say, $22 million US here.’
‘Rather steep.’
‘Inflation, you know.’
‘I’ll need confirmation from my principal. Shall we say a couple of million down payment, and the rest when you deliver de Ségur to the French police?’
Roquebrun burst into the hard laughter of the humorless man. ‘You’ve got to be joking. In this kind of business, it’s 50 per cent down, or no deal. We’ve got a lot of up-front expenses: reconnaissance work, coordination and field equipment, payments to facilitators.’
‘$11 million is a lot of expenses.’
‘It’s my ass that will be fired at, Mr Dulac. Not yours. Take it or leave it.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Dulac got up to leave.
‘À bientôt,’ said the mercenary, giving Dulac a surprisingly soft, almost effeminate handshake. ‘Call me.’ He handed Dulac a small piece of folded paper.
Dulac walked away quickly and soon melted into the hectic flow of Parisian pedestrians.
Back at his apartment, Dulac phoned Legnano.
‘Timely that you called, Mr Dulac. We have just received payment instructions from de Ségur. Payment is due in three hours, but that is not your problem. You calling me means that you have found someone, Mr Dulac? That you accept?’
‘Yes.’ I must be insane, Dulac thought. ‘A certain Eric Roquebrun.’
‘And you have checked him out, so to speak?’
‘He’s been referred by an acquaintance. We don’t have time to—’
‘Of course. I understand.’
‘And what is his … fee?’
‘$22 million US. $11 million now and the rest upon delivery of the goods.’
‘What? That’s unacceptable. We must pay de Ségur and now this? And without any guarantees?’
‘Monsignor, believe me. These people don’t negotiate. Or give any guarantees.’
‘But what proof do we have that he can deliver?’
‘You mean other than his sordid reputation?’
‘I see.’ Legnano paused for a moment.
‘And how exactly will this Roquefort—’
‘Roquebrun, your Eminence.’
‘—Roquebrun eliminate the threat?’
‘The plan is he and his men will capture and abduct de Ségur and bring him to France. When de Ségur is in custody, the Vatican can negotiate with the French authorities for a lesser sentence in exchange for his keeping quiet. You’ll have the cards, this time, your Eminence.’
‘We, Mr Dulac, we are to negotiate?’
‘I suspect you have a little more clout with the French Minister of Justice than I do.’
‘That’s a high price for only part of the bargain. We want the threat eliminated, Mr Dulac, not postponed.’
‘Your Eminence, I may be suspended, but I’m still an officer of the law. That’s the best I can offer.’
There was a pause, and Dulac almost hoped Legnano would refuse. ‘I’ll get back to you, Mr Dulac.’