49

“Where’s Caldwell?” Marie demanded the moment Jean-Paul strode up to her in the entrance hall of the house. “He’s already here, isn’t he?”

Jean-Paul dismissed the guard, who returned to his patrol, before he responded, “Calm down, Agent Hapsburg, take a deep breath.” It was advice she didn’t take. “You said you have a message for me from a Mr Dubois concerning a Mr Caldwell.”

Marie realised Renault was being cautious to avoid incriminating himself in front of a stranger, but she doubted there was time for that.

“Yes. I’m the one who gives Rene most of the information he sells you. I’m how you knew where Sofia Torres was being kept in Barcelona. Now, where’s Caldwell? There’s no time to waste.” She saw that Renault wasn’t going to budge without an explanation of some sort and ground her teeth in frustration. “Caldwell’s working with Interpol. He never killed Torres, she’s still alive,” she said urgently.

Jean-Paul’s face drained of colour. He had difficulty breathing and his mouth went dry. “Are you sure?” he finally managed to ask.

“Yes. I was told this afternoon by the agent in charge of the operation in Barcelona. He’s a friend of Caldwell’s. Caldwell faked the deaths in Barcelona. He’s...” Marie didn’t have a chance to say any more than that for Renault turned away and raced upstairs, yanking out his gun as he ran. She guessed that Renault was heading to where Caldwell was with the intention of killing him and she hurried after him.

When he reached the first floor, Jean-Paul sprinted along the corridor to the large office at the rear of the house. With his gun in hand, he burst through the door almost before he was able to get it open. Out the corner of his eye he saw his cousin rise from his chair in surprise at the abrupt invasion, but Jean-Paul was focused on the assassin who had deceived them. He realised how quick Caldwell’s reactions were, even with one arm in a sling and a bullet wound to the lower abdomen, when a gun appeared in his hand as if by magic.

Jean-Paul felt a bullet crease his thigh as Caldwell surged to his feet, spun around, and fired all in one, almost impossibly fast, move, managing to get off a shot before he could fire his own weapon. He saw his first bullet hit Caldwell in his heavily bandaged arm, while his next three struck the man in the chest, knocking him backwards over the chair so the last two shots missed him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Noir demanded as Jean-Paul moved forward to kick away the gun Caldwell had dropped.

Jean-Paul was about to turn to his cousin when he spotted movement in the doorway out the corner of his eye. He turned quickly, ready to deal with whatever trouble had arrived. His hand was on the gun he had only just put away when he realised the movement was Agent Hapsburg.

“What’s going on?” Noir said sharply, startled by both the murder and the sudden arrival of a strange woman in his office.

“Not here,” Marie said, taking in the shot assassin, Renault’s bleeding leg, and Noir’s look of stunned incomprehension in a single glance. “We can talk outside, but not here. I said not here,” she repeated sternly when she saw that Noir was about to speak again.

When Jean-Paul limped after the woman, Noir was forced to follow them to find out what was going on. He glanced briefly at Caldwell’s body as he passed it but didn’t stop. It didn’t bother him that the assassin had been killed, especially since it saved him two and a half million pounds. What did was that Jean-Paul had killed the man without first telling him he was going to do so or why.

“Okay, Jean-Paul, who the hell is this? And why the hell did you kill Caldwell?” Noir demanded once he was out in the passage.

“My name’s Marie Hapsburg,” She didn’t know how Noir felt about Caldwell’s murder, but she was disturbed, mostly because of how it had happened, and the fact that it meant they would have to move even more quickly than before. “I’m an agent with Interpol and, indirectly, one of your cousin’s sources.” She saw a look of concern cross Noir’s face as he realised that an Interpol agent had just witnessed his cousin murder someone in his office, and that he could be considered an accomplice to that murder. “We need to get out of here right now.”

“I asked you a question,” Noir said to Jean-Paul.

“We don’t have time for this, Mr Noir,” Marie told him. “Your cousin shot Caldwell because I told him Caldwell’s been working with Interpol, he never killed Sofia Torres, nor any of the others.” She was gratified to see Noir go as pale as a man kept underground his whole life. He also shut his mouth on whatever it was he had been about to say. “If your cousin had been a little more patient, I’d have had time to tell him that Caldwell’s wearing a wire, which means that murder was overheard by the surveillance team that’s nearby. We’ve got to get out of here now. Interpol teams with local officers are going to come bursting through the gates any time now.”

“Shit!” Jean-Paul swore, wishing he had waited a little longer before rushing off to kill Caldwell. “She’s right, Philippe, we’ve got to get out of here,” he said when he saw that his cousin was frozen to the spot by indecision and uncertainty.

“We don’t just have to get out of here, we have to get out of the country,” Noir said, coming to his senses. “If that bastard was wired, they’ve got me on tape admitting to murder and conspiracy to commit murder, and ordering you to do the same. They’ve got enough on both of us to put us away forever.” He thought of something then and turned to Marie Hapsburg. He was about to say something when he changed his mind, instead he snapped, “Kill her,” to his cousin as he hurried back into his office and over to where his safe was hidden.

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Noir told Jean-Paul when he re-joined him in the passage, stepping over the fallen body of Marie Hapsburg.