Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

Paris

Day Two

VENABLE CALLED MACDUFF JUST after noon that day. “I need to talk to Jock Gavin.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Because if I didn’t, you’d accuse me of going around you and trying to victimize the poor boy.”

“He’s a man, not a boy.”

“Then let him protect himself,” Venable said sourly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I gave him the option of saying no.”

“After you set up a scenario that made it impossible for him to refuse.” He added impatiently, “So why do you want to talk to him?” He glanced at Jock, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away. “I’m turning up the volume and putting you on speaker. Don’t say anything to me that you don’t want him to hear. Or do you want me to hang up, Jock?”

Jock shook his head. “I have no secrets from you.”

“Not today. Yesterday was a different matter,” MacDuff said dryly. “Talk, Venable.”

“I want to know about Ted Weismann.”

“You should know all there is to know about him,” Jock said. “He’s your informant. You paid him to introduce me into Sang Noir.”

“I know he’s greedy, and his information always panned out. You were around him for over two weeks before you took off for Paris.”

“That doesn’t mean that I know much about him. I wasn’t concentrating on Weismann while I was there. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that the minute you took down Folard, Weismann had to go on the run or end up like Celine Denarve. Millet was there and recognized you, and he made the connection. I knew it would happen. One way or another, I was preparing to lose my informant.”

“And?”

“Weismann contacted me and wants to make a deal. No more dribbling bits of information. He’s prepared to spill his guts for a large enough sum that would permit him to find a hiding place that would be luxurious enough to make it worth the risk.”

“And what’s your question to me?”

“Just how much does he know? Would I be wasting money?”

Jock thought about it. “It’s possible. I got the impression he wasn’t as deeply into the group’s confidence as the core eight. But he’s very personable, and Millet did send him out a couple times to scope out possible jobs. A man who regards information as cash and loves money would make it his business to find out all he could. And why would he have been willing to introduce me to his fine friends when he knew I’d possibly have to blow them away? He might have acquired enough information to be ready to step away from them and go into retirement.”

“So that he could make me pay through the nose.”

“It’s all supposition, of course.” Jock paused. “I don’t know if Weismann is a good bet for you. I do know he’s clever and self-serving. He was probably keeping an eye on me to see when I was going to make my move.” He was silent a moment. “Clever enough to dangle something out there to tempt you. What was it, Venable?”

For a moment MacDuff thought Venable wasn’t going to answer.

“He said that he knew why Jane MacGuire was targeted.” He paused. “And who sent Millet that article and hired him for a possible future kill.”

“Then pay it,” MacDuff said harshly. “If he’s lying, then take the hit. You owe it to her. You screwed up.”

“I’ll consider it. If she agrees to cooperate. If you agree to cooperate.”

“A deal?” MacDuff asked. “Forget it. You’re not going to use me. You’re not going to use Jock. And you’re sure as hell not going to use Jane.”

“Why don’t you take that up with her? Weismann sent me a bit of information to prove his good faith. He said to tell Jane MacGuire that the order had gone out for a total on her.”

“Total?” MacDuff repeated. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Total extermination,” Jock said slowly. “Family, friends, coworkers. Wipe every trace of the target from the face of the earth.”

MacDuff glanced at him. “You’re familiar with the term?”

“Yes, the Sang Noir wasn’t shy about talking about total extermination while I was with them. They were very proud of the concept. But it was a punishment levied only against special enemies. I heard they’d actually only used it once.”

“Who?”

“Juan Parillo, a police chief in Nardez, Venezuela. It’s a small city outside Caracas. He supposedly tortured and killed one of the Sang Noir group three years ago. They wanted to make an example of him.”

“And what did that mean?”

“They killed Parillo, his wife, his brother, and his three children. Then they systematically went down the list and murdered two of his officers and their families. They even took out his next-door neighbors because they were reputed to be his best friends.”

“Wiped from the face of the earth,” MacDuff repeated. “Everyone close to him…”

“I told you the Sang Noir was ugly,” Venable said. “And crazy as hell.”

“Celine Denarve,” Jock said. “She was Jane’s friend and coworker. A double reason for them to kill her if Jane had been targeted for a total.” He suddenly straightened. “But that wouldn’t be good enough for them. It would only be a token.” He looked at MacDuff. “Celine Denarve has a sister. She was supposed to meet with Jane today.”

“NO, YVETTE’S NOT HERE YET,” Jane said when MacDuff phoned her. “She called me at nine and said she was on the road.” She paused. “Why do you ask?”

“She was driving from Lyon?”

“Yes, I told her I’d meet her if she decided to take the train instead. She’s really too upset to be driving. I’ve been a little worried. She said she’d be here by eleven.”

“Do you have a number to call her back?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “What’s happening, MacDuff?”

“I hope nothing is happening. Call her back and make sure she’s okay. Get back to me.” He hung up.

Jane pressed the disconnect. She’d been a little worried, but now she was afraid. MacDuff didn’t cry wolf unless the wolf was leaping in for the kill. She quickly checked Yvette’s number and dialed.

Nothing.

She tried again.

Voice mail. Yvette’s voice, cheerful, casual. So different than the shock and near hysteria that had shaded her voice when Jane had talked to her.

She hung up and called MacDuff back. “I can’t get hold of Yvette. Now, dammit, tell me why you’re worried about her.”

“It appears that you’ve become a special case to the Sang Noir. Let me call Venable back and have him check on the logical route she would take and the car she should be driving. Jock and I will start looking for her.”

“What do you mean ‘special’-” She stopped. “Another one? You’re saying that Yvette may be another victim?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think we can take the chance. I don’t have time to go into it now with you. I’ve got to call Venable. I may be wrong. She may walk in the door of the gallery in the next five minutes.”

“If she doesn’t, I’m going with you.” She hung up. Dear God, it was too horrible to be true.

Let it not be true.

Please walk in that door, Yvette.

FORTY MINUTES LATER JOCK, MacDuff, and Jane were on the A6 leaving Paris.

“It’s a black 2005 Volvo,” Jock said as he hung up the phone from talking to Venable. “And Yvette Denarve stopped at a gas station on A6 and used her credit card over three hours ago.”

“I’m going to call her again,” Jane said. “Maybe she just had a flat tire. It’s possible.”

“Yes, it’s possible,” MacDuff said. “Look sharp, Jock. See if you see any sign of the car in trees or at the side of the road.”