Iris Johansen - Final Target

Screw the sensible thing.

Not while Deschamps was still alive.

His phone rang as he was starting the Peugeot.

"We have a problem," Galen said. "Have you left Cannes?"

"Not yet. I should be back at the cottage in a few hours."

"Don't come here. Go directly to St. Ives. I got a call from Danielle Claron. She wants to negotiate with you. She'll be at the old church at the north edge of the village after midnight."

"When did she call?"

"After six. I thought I'd give you time to finish with Karlstadt. It's only a few hours' drive from Cannes to St. Ives." He paused. "But you'd better hurry. Melissa may get there before you do."

"What? You told her?"

"Guilty. But I watched her all the time she was on the beach. And she came in from her walk and went straight to bed."

"For God's sake, you weren't suspicious?"

"Of course I was suspicious. I opened the door and looked in on her four times in the past couple of hours. The last time she threw a book at me. Five minutes later I heard the van start. She must have crawled out the window the moment I closed the door. I ran out, but she was already gunning it down the beach."

"I'm going to murder you."

"I may commit suicide. It was most humiliating. Now I'm relegated from being a mighty warrior to being a lowly nursemaid for Cassie."

"You should never have told her. We don't know what the hell is happening with Danielle Claron."

"I wouldn't have appreciated being kept in the dark." He paused again. "And she's not totally without protection. You did give her the gun."

"That's the only weapon she has. She's out of her depth. She doesn't know-"

"That's what I tried to tell her. She wasn't listening. In her place, I don't know if I would have listened either. Call me when you get to St. Ives." He hung up.

Travis glanced at his watch. At least three hours to get to St. Ives from here.

His foot stomped on the accelerator and the car leapt forward.

St. Ives

The ancient church on the hill had to have been built centuries ago, and the graveyard stretching behind it looked like the resting place of generations of villagers. The building itself had no windows, and the stone steps leading up to the massive oak doors were splintered.

Melissa was not about to go up those steps. She would be a clear target in the bright moonlight. Her hand closed on the gun in her jacket pocket as she stepped deeper into the shadows beneath the oak tree.

She couldn't just stand there all night. She moistened her lips and called, "Danielle. Danielle Claron."

No answer.

"I'm Melissa Riley. Michael Travis sent me."

No answer.

"He wasn't sure he could make it in time. But I can authorize any money you might need."

No answer.

"For God's sake, would he have sent a woman if he'd wanted to harm you?"

"If he was clever."

Melissa whirled to face the woman coming around the church from the direction of the graveyard. She was petite, dark-haired, and in her middle thirties, wearing a purple sweater and long print skirt. "My husband was never that clever. He never listened. He always underestimated me."

She was pointing a gun at Melissa.

"That's how that bastard managed to kill him. I don't underestimate anyone. I'm not going to die. Put up your hands."

Melissa slowly raised her hands. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to give you what you want."

"Can you give me my husband back?"

"No, but I can give you the money to keep you safe."

"And what do you want in return?"

"Edward Deschamps. Do you know where he is?"

Silence. "Maybe."

Melissa's heart leapt. "Either you do or you don't."

"Maybe," she repeated. "We'll talk again when I see some money. And it better be soon. Do you think I've liked hiding out here all these weeks?"

"Will you put away that gun? You can see I'm no threat."

Danielle stare d at her appraisingly before saying finally, "No, you're too soft." She lowered the gun. "I wasn't sure you weren't hired by Deschamps to trick me into coming out in the open." Her lips twisted. "The bastard has a history of using women. Like that bitch Jeanne Beaujolis. That's how I got into this mess."

Melissa put her hands down. "She told you about what was going to happen at Vasaro?"

"No, only that Deschamps was going to help her strike it rich. I put the rest together when I heard what happened there." Her face hardened. "She was crazy about him at first, and then she was crazy only about the money she was going to get."

"Did you meet him before Vasaro?"

"Once or twice."

"Where?"

She shook her head. "The money."

"How much?"

"Travis offered my husband five hundred thousand dollars. I want seven."

"It may take us some time to get that amount."

"I don't have a lot of time. I have to get out of here. I'll give you until tomorrow night to-What's that?" She lifted her head to gaze at the woods behind Melissa. "Did you hear it?"

Melissa whirled around. "Hear what?"

"Rustling. There's someone in the woods." She looked back at Melissa, her eyes blazing. "You lied to me. Deschamps did send you."

"No, it might be Travis. He said he'd-"

"Liar." She jumped toward Melissa. "It's not Travis. It's Deschamps." The butt of her gun was coming down toward Melissa's head.

Melissa ducked, grabbed the woman's arm, and twisted it behind her back.

"Let me go, you bitch."

Melissa released her but pulled the Smith amp; Wesson out of her jacket pocket at the same time. "When you listen to reason." She pressed the gun to Danielle's back. "One, I didn't hear any rustling, and two, I'm the last person who'd be in league with Deschamps. He killed my sister. I want him as much as you do."

"More," a man's voice said from behind her. "Much more, Ms. Riley."

Pain burst through her head.

She slumped to the ground.

"Is she dead, Edward?"

Danielle Claron's voice, Melissa realized dimly.

"I hope not." He bent down and picked up her gun, which had fallen from her hand. "I have other plans for her. No, I think she's just out."

"You took long enough. I did like you said. I tried to distract her."

"And you did very well, Monique. If I hadn't known Danielle was dead, you would have fooled me. Sorry to make your job harder. I was scouting around for Travis."

"He's not here?"

"Not yet."

"But you're through with me? It's not my fault she came instead of Travis. I can have my money?"

"Of course. I promised you, didn't I? Come along into the church, where I can turn on my flashlight and count it out for you."

"What about her?"

"This will take only a minute."

They were walking away. Something wasn't right--

It didn't matter. Think about it later. Get up. Get away before he comes back.

She struggled to her knees.

Jesus, her head hurt.

Move anyway. Get to your feet.

On the second try she made it.

She staggered to the road. Get to the car.

God, she felt sick.

Find a place to rest for a few minutes.

She had to throw up. She staggered to a tree and leaned against it while she heaved.

A hand fell on her shoulder.

Deschampsl

She whirled and crashed her fist into his face.

"Jesus, what the hell-"

It was Travis.

She collapsed against him. "He's here. We have to go back-"

He stiffened. "Deschamps?"

"He's in the church. There's a woman…but it's not Danielle Claron. He called her Monique.

I think Danielle Claron's dead. He's paying the woman now." She pushed him away. "We have to go back."

"You don't have to do anything at the moment but sit down before you fall." He frowned. "Are you bleeding?"