Chapter 42

 

The day’s race wasn’t the most exciting. A breakaway group of six riders escaped early and stayed free, building up a 15-minute advantage at one time. The peloton closed the gap to six minutes and then took it easy. In the end, a Belgian beat the others in a sprint to win.

The crowd at the finish erupted into cheers despite a Spaniard contesting the final 200 metres in vain. To Burke, the atmosphere was like a giant party. Lots of noise, banners, flags, food and beer.

When Nico Menard signed off to end the telecast, Burke sat back. The first part of his day’s work was done. He rated his performance as adequate and was a little surprised he hadn’t lost his focus during the commentary, given the pressure of the evening’s upcoming event.

“So, Paul, what’s next for you?” Nico asked. “Are you coming to the soirée tonight?”

Burke looked at the veteran broadcaster and then at Jules Tessier. Both men were watching him carefully.

“I am. It’ll be my final Vuelta event. Then it’s back to Girona and back home tomorrow,” Burke said. “At least that’s the plan.”

He could see Menard and Tessier suspected he wasn’t telling the entire truth. But neither asked another question and he was grateful for that.

“By the way, do either of you know why the party is tonight and not last night?” Burke asked. “The other events I attended took place on the night before the stage race.”

“I asked that question several days ago and a spokesperson for the Vuelta said the Dalí museum had been booked for last night for more than a year,” Menard said. “The organizers wanted to use the museum because of its fame and unique look, and so they moved it to tonight.”

The door to the booth opened and Godard popped in. Not surprisingly, Monique Chan was behind her.

“Good job today, gentlemen,” said Godard, looking at Burke then Menard and even at Tessier. “It wasn’t the most exciting stage, but you kept the commentary at a high level. And, Jules, your stats were especially helpful today.”

Burke had never heard Godard praise Tessier. Most of the time, she ignored him completely. Now she was looking at him with respect. For his part, Tessier looked surprised, but managed to nod and smile.

“So, we’ll reconvene this evening at the museum,” Godard said. Then she looked at Menard. “Nico, I need to go over a few things for tomorrow so if you’ll hang around here, we can talk.”

Burke and Tessier took that as the signal to leave. Godard, Chan and Menard remained in the booth.

Outside on the street which was still closed to traffic, Tessier turned to Burke. “How are you doing, Paul?”

Burke shrugged as they started to walk toward the gate separating the media from the masses. “I’m a little tired, but I’m feeling better than I expected.”

“And are you really done with everything after tonight?”

“Tonight is the end for me.”

“And you’re feeling safe?”

Burke was surprised by the question, but answered he felt at ease even though it wasn’t true.

“Having a security detail doesn’t worry you?”

Burke saw the young man studying him. “It’s purely precautionary,” he replied.

Tessier nodded, but didn’t say anything.

As they approached the gate, Felipe Garrido appeared. He was sipping some kind of drink and looking like he was just wandering about enjoying the day. Burke thought if anyone was watching, they wouldn’t figure Garrido was anyone’s bodyguard despite his burly build.

Burke looked at Tessier. He thought the statistician might recall Garrido from the drive to Girona, but wouldn’t know what Garrido’s real job was.

“What a race!” Garrido said in French with a grin, clearly playing a role.

“Not bad at all,” Burke lied.

Before Tessier could say anything, Garrido leaned close to him and said, “I’m not really a chauffeur. I’m with the police as Monsieur Burke can tell you. Just play along.”

Tessier nodded.

Burke glanced about. A handful of TV media workers were busy hauling gear and not paying attention to Burke’s conversation with Garrido. Beyond the gate, a dozen people milled about, chatting and looking about. Again, Burke saw no one paying attention to him, Garrido and Tessier. They were invisible. Maybe.

Garrido took a step closer to Burke, “We’ll leave in another minute or so.” He looked at Tessier. “You should come as well, Monsieur.”

Tessier nodded again. He didn’t looked surprised and Burke thought how quickly the young man adapted to different situations. Tessier was impressive.

They stood chatting about the race for another minute and then they strolled through the exit. No one watched them go and no one followed. Or so Burke thought.

Garrido led them to the taxi van and they all got in with Tessier sitting in the back. Then Garrido slowly drove away. As the van picked up speed, Burke heard the flic say, “Copy.”

That’s when Burke knew Garrido was communicating with someone else, probably Inspector Torres.

“We’re going to your hotel, Monsieur Tessier,” Garrido said.

And then Garrido told Tessier what was happening although he left out some of the details involving José López. Tessier didn’t ask any questions, just listened.

Burke believed the police had been monitoring Tessier’s activities as well. And they’d probably done so for a few days. Maybe they’d even hacked into Tessier’s laptop although Burke expected Tessier as a computer whiz would make that difficult for anyone to do. Whatever they’d heard or found, the police trusted Jules Tessier.

When they reached Tessier’s hotel, Inspector Torres and Sgt. Martín met them in the small lobby. A handful of others were checking in, but Burke didn’t recognize them and noticed they didn’t pay any attention to him, Tessier and Garrido.

“You’re checked in, Monsieur Tessier,” said Torres, telling him the room number and handing him the key card to his room. “It’s on the second floor. Let’s go up.”

She led them to the nearby elevator and then to the room which consisted of a bedroom, a bathroom and a small sitting area.

“You can get settled, Monsieur Tessier, while we talk to Monsieur Burke.”

Tessier took the hint and hauled his bag into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Burke sat in a corner chair and waited. All he wanted was to return to Girona and catch a plane for home.

Torres sat on the couch opposite Burke while Martín took a chair by the window. Garrido stood near the front door.

“Besides the questions we reviewed before, I want you to talk to López about something else,” Torres said in a quiet voice. “I want you to ask him about his relationship with Tim Fritz.”

“Fritz? Is he mixed up in all of this? Did you just find something out?”

Torres ignored Burke’s questions and pointed a finger at him. “I need you to be conversational and ask how long López has known Fritz, what he thinks of him, just general things.”

“You believe Fritz is involved?” Burke said.

“Just do what I’m telling you to do.”

Up to that moment, he’d only thought of the American as a successful magazine publisher who liked Europe and who wanted to use Chef Andres for some guest columns in his lifestyle magazines. Burke couldn’t see Fritz being involved in a large-scale criminal enterprise; he didn’t seem the type. And yet something had happened to put Fritz onto the police’s radar.

Burke noticed Torres exchanging a glance with Martín.

“There are a lot of people connected to the organization behind this food-fraud scheme and we’re looking at several individuals,” Torres finally said. “Tim Fritz is one of them. That is not, however, for public notice.”

Burke could tell Torres had more information about Fritz, but wouldn’t share it. He wasn’t surprised. She was a flic and he was just someone who’d stumbled into the investigation.

“And what about Wendy Klassen?” Burke said. “If he’s involved, wouldn’t she know?”

“Good question. However, it’s often true the spouse has no idea about what’s been happening.”

There was a moment of silence and then Torres said, “So, do you understand what I’m asking you to do, Monsieur?”

Burke nodded. “I just hope I don’t look overly interested or anxious.”

“Just be curious, nothing more.”

Burke’s stomach started to churn. He hadn’t signed up for any of this.

“Remember, Monsieur Burke, we need you to remain calm,” Torres added.

Too late for that, Burke thought.