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PARIS
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PHILIPPE NOIR FELT relief wash over him as he stepped through the heavy door and out of prison, Olivier at his side. He had only been in prison for a month while the hearings to decide the extradition request against him took place, but it had seemed much longer.
Despite having a single cell and being afforded the respect of both the guards and most of the other inmates, thanks to his name and reputation, the experience had not been a pleasant one for him. The food, and the general level of comfort, was far below what he was used to, and he was not happy that a price had been put on his head by Roberto Abrantes, which two people had tried to collect on.
Revelling in the first truly fresh air he had breathed in four weeks, Noir made his way to the BMW where his cousin was waiting for him. He immediately climbed into the back, where he was joined by Olivier, and relaxed.
**
“OKAY, JEAN-PAUL, TELL me about this hitman you hired,” Noir said once he was sitting comfortably in the leather chair behind his desk at the vineyard with a glass of wine. He had said nothing during the drive from the prison, not wanting to take any chances on Interpol having managed to bug his car.
“His name’s Caldwell, he’s in his mid-to-late thirties, and he was trained by the British Army,” Jean-Paul summarised, though he quickly expanded on that when he saw his cousin looking at him expectantly. “According to the file I was given, he spent time with British Special Forces. He’s been under suspicion by Interpol and police agencies across Europe for years, but they’ve never been able to get enough to charge him with anything, let alone get a conviction.”
“How much did you agree to pay him?” Noir asked. “Olivier told me it was a significant amount but not how much. I assume from his résumé that he’s a man who knows his value.”
Jean-Paul hesitated for a moment before answering. He had hoped he wouldn’t be asked that. “Five million pounds,” he said finally. “And he insisted on being paid half up front.”
“Was there no-one else you could have got? Someone who was willing to work for a more reasonable fee?”
Jean-Paul shook his head. “My source was only able to give me the names of three people known by Interpol to have the skills we needed. One of them is dead and another is retired, Caldwell was the only one available, and he knew I was desperate. You told me to do everything I could to get you out of prison and clear up your problems,” he reminded his cousin. “That is what I had to do. I think you should consider the price cheap. It would cost you a lot more than five million pounds if you ended up in a Spanish jail.”
Noir could hardly disagree with that. “Did this Caldwell character have any problems getting rid of Roland, Marc, and that bloody witness?” he asked, changing the subject to avoid thinking about how much the man’s services had cost.
“That’s hard to say. Caldwell hasn’t been in contact since he collected the files on the three targets, so I haven’t been able to find out if he had any problems. My source did tell me it’s believed that Caldwell was injured during his last job, when he killed Sofia Torres,” Jean-Paul said. “There’s no confirmation of that, though, and I imagine there won’t be until either Caldwell contacts me or the Spanish Police report his capture or death.” He was relieved that Noir seemed to be taking the size of the fee calmly. “On the plus side, he hasn’t been paid the second half of his fee yet, and I don’t intend paying it until I hear that he’s alive and not in custody in Spain.”
“Good.” Noir nodded approvingly. “There’s no point paying him the rest if it isn’t necessary. Of course, that still leaves the question of what I’m going to do about him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I have a few options,” Noir said. “I can hope he was injured and dies from his wounds, so I don’t have to pay him. I can wait for him to turn up and then refuse to pay him. I can pay him and hope he goes away and doesn’t get caught by either the Spanish Police or Interpol. Or I could have you kill him, so I don’t have to pay him, and we don’t have to worry about him revealing anything to anybody.”
“I don’t think you should do anything,” Olivier said. “The most sensible course of action is simply to wait and see what happens. If Caldwell is dead then great, you don’t have to pay him what he’s owed, and you don’t have to worry about anything. I don’t think you’ll have to worry if he gets caught either; I saw the file Jean-Paul was given, and nobody has come close to catching this Caldwell, but if they somehow do this time, he’s professional enough not to speak.”
“And I definitely don’t think you should attempt to kill him, not unless you have a very good reason,” Jean-Paul added his opinion.
“Why not?” Noir asked. He was in a good mood after his release from prison and hearing that his problems were over, otherwise he would have been annoyed by the opinions being offered.
“He was trained as a special forces soldier, and is now a professional hitman. The chances are good that he will expect you to try and kill him, rather than pay him what he’s owed. He’ll be ready for something like that, and it will be us rather than him that gets killed,” Jean-Paul said. “Let’s not forget that he’s just succeeded where more than a dozen of your best men failed. He’s clearly very good at what he does, and I don’t fancy having him hunt us down because you’re not willing to pay him what was agreed.” He saw his cousin’s face darken and he hurried on. “You have to remember that he’s professionally trained, while we’re more used to dealing with people who, at best, can be called gifted amateurs. There is another reason not to kill him.”
“Really, what might that be? You like him and think he’d be a laugh to hang out with?” Noir asked sarcastically.
“No. I think he might be useful in the future. He’s clearly a lot better than the rest of our men, even if he costs more. It’s pretty much guaranteed that you will find more people you want dead in the future, and some of them may be as well-protected as Tomas Abrantes was. It might be better to use Caldwell to eliminate those problems, rather than using your own men. He can do it better, quicker, and with fewer risks to you.”
“You might be right,” Noir conceded. “There’s little point in having a fortune if you aren’t able to enjoy it.” That was something that had occurred to him during his stint in prison. He was silent for a few moments while he sipped at his wine and thought about what Jean-Paul had said. Finally, he said, “If he contacts you to get the rest of his money, arrange a meeting. Maybe if I see him, I’ll make up my mind what to do about him. Is there any other business I need to worry about?” he asked, looking from Jean-Paul to Olivier.