Operation Heartbreaker (6 page)

Julie stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Antonio Banderas? Are you dense or what?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Ally hissed. “Those guys weren’t kosher.”

“Not kosher? As in being crooks?”

Ally nodded.

“Well, then go ahead. We’ll meet outside.”

“What are you…?”

Before she could finish Julie dove into the group of squealing students. A bunch of high school students had joined them, excitedly asking for autographs.

What in God’s name was Julie doing? They had escaped these guys by hairsbreadth, no reason to give them a second chance.

Before she could make a decision her friend was back at her side, grinning like a fool. She took her hand and pulled her towards the exit.

At the cabstand they found themselves at the end of a ridiculously long line. Not good. They had to get out of here, like yesterday.

Ally let her eyes wander across the parking lot and noticed an Air France bus. The last passengers had just boarded and the driver was about to close the luggage compartment.

Now or never. Beckoning like lunatics, they ran to the bus stop. After showing their tickets they were allowed to enter the bus. If the driver wondered why First Class passengers were taking the bus, he didn’t show it. As they drove off, they saw the two gorillas running from the building and towards the cabs.

“Head down,” Julie hissed.

Ally followed her instructions without hesitation.

“That was close,” Julie remarked once they had entered the A3, heading south.

“What if they saw us?”

“They didn’t. Otherwise they’d be right behind us, don’t you think?”

Ally nodded.

“How did you know about them being, well, some felons?”

“He, um, had a weapon under his jacket,” she lied. “And when I saw him going for it, I reacted without thinking.”

Julie didn’t seem convinced.

“And I realized nobody knew about our early departure. We were supposed to arrive this evening, remember?” So, how had these thugs known about it? And why did they wait for them anyway? Did these guys have anything to do with the break-in? Unlikely. There were 5,000 miles between Seattle and Paris. Why would some Frenchmen break into her uncles house? Man, this was so messed up!

“Not bad, Sherlock. Without your combination skills we’d probably ended up in their trunk.”

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?“ Ally asked to change the subject. Her knees were shaking and her pulse wasn’t able to calm down. Twenty four hours ago her life had been in order. Right now she didn’t even know who the man was she’d been living with since she was three years old.

“No idea. The sign of the bus said something in French. Can’t be that wrong.”

“Julie, we’re in France. Everything is French here. What did it say?“

“Mopantas–something like that.”

Ally leaned into the aisle. “Paris?” she asked an older lady and pointed at the driver.

The woman nodded. “Montparnasse.”

At least they were on their way into the French capital. Now they needed a place to stay, the
Meurice
was no longer an option. Those guys had been waiting at the airport, so they certainly knew which hotel they were supposed to stay.

Julie grabbed the tablet, goggled Paris hotels and reserved a room at
Le Bristol
. Her sassy grin told Ally that they were in trouble.

Well, even more of it.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Yeah, right. “Spit it out!”

“I’m just happy to be in, well, Paris and stuff.”

That leaves the question what the heck they were doing here. Sightseeing was most likely not on their program. Which left the interview.

Ally internally shook her head. Who was she kidding? With that mess in her backpack, chatting with Viktor was the last thing on her mind.

The adrenaline kick in the terminal had a curing side effect,

and knocked her out of her state of shock. As soon as they were in the hotel they would pick the last secrets from the MacBook. They would find Cole’s hideout and… and…

Her guts tightened. Was it really possible that CP was her father? So far she hadn’t had the opportunity to think it over. If her parents were still alive, why had they left her to grow up with her…with David? It made no sense. She hoped they would be able to secure more information from the saved data. To be honest, she wasn’t really interested in this creepy secret project. She wanted to get more information about her parents. Who were they and where were they hiding?

“Man, I can’t believe it. This guy’s first name is Andrea. His parents must hate him.”

Ally looked over to her friend who was inspecting several credit cards.

“How did you get these?”

“From Don Giovanni and his pal at the airport. The girls were practically ripping their leather jackets into pieces. Anybody could have robbed them. They can be lucky it was us. But, Geez, Andrea? Wait a minute. Isn’t the opera guy called that?”

“Who?”

“Andrea Broccoli.”

“Bocelli!”

“Isn’t he gay?”

Although she didn’t want to, she had to laugh. “You’re nuts!”

This was getting better and better. They could now add credit card fraud to their long list of delinquencies. At the end of  their trip the FBI would probably be at their heels. Or Interpol. Or both.

“You’ve got to become gay with a name like that. Just imagine Marc’s parents calling him Marcy.”

“Shut up!“ Ally replied, biting her lip to suppress a laugh.

“Never mind,” Julie muttered. “At least this way the chick at the reception won’t give us a hard time.”

“What do you mean?”

Julie fluttered her eyelashes. “Don’t I look like Andrea Broccoli?” As if on cue, they broke into a snort of laughter.

05

Viktor Iwanow entered his office, took off his two thousand Euro jacket and threw it to the ground like a rag. After reaching his desk, he grabbed his phone and pressed One for the head of security.

He was fuming. How in hell did the Italians get wind of Ally’s rebooking? And how the fuck had they known about her trip at all? This wasn’t a matter of the rivaling families of Paris.

The French capital was split in two. One half belonged to Enzo di Lorenzo, the head of the Italian mafia. The other belonged to Sergej Iwanow, leader of the
Vory V Zakone
, which, at the bottom line, means something like
Thieves in the Law.
Both parties were spying on each other unscrupulously. After all, it was always good to know what one’s opponent was planning. In their business surprises were as welcome as search warrants.

To outsider, Viktor wasn’t involved in the family business. But being the son of the biggest bastard in the history of France, didn’t come without consequences. Even though his dad had done everything in his power to keep him out of it. That’s one of the reasons why Viktor had grown up in Saint Petersburg, London and Switzerland. Everywhere but near his father. Sergej had plans for his son, he was supposed to go into politics. He was dreaming of a new Ukraine, including Crimea and the rest the Russian stole, with his son at the top. And that’s why he needed money–lots of it. It didn’t matter where it came from. In order to win he needed a fucking fortune.

“Danilo!” Viktor pressed between his clenched teeth when his head of security finally picked up the phone. “Get your ass into my office. And pick up the goddamn radio scanner!”

Instead of finishing the conversation, he threw the phone at the wood-paneled wall, where it smashed into pieces. Goddamn spies! Grinding his teeth, he paced his work space. They scanned the house twice a week for bugs, but those cunning bastards changed their frequencies on a daily basis, causing Sergej and his men to constantly lag behind. Technically Enzo was perfectly up-to-date, which couldn’t be said of Viktor’s father. He wasn’t a planner like Enzo. He was a moody leader, made impromptu decisions, only to reverse them the next moment. Whoever was dumb enough to follow the first order was punished, as if it was their fault their boss couldn’t warm up to a strategy. Working with Sergej was a constant challenge, but for his enemies it was even harder. Due to his volatility he was impossible to gage. But that’s the only advantage that came with Sergej’s mood swings.

Maybe it was good Viktor was looking after the business for a while. Too much had accumulated, the frustration of his men lingered in the air like smoke. The security leak didn’t surprise him at all. It was probably one of their own people selling his father to the highest bidder. How much was Enzo offering for a well-placed wire in his office?

Sighing, he dropped into his office chair, grabbed Ally’s file and went through it. He didn’t have to read it, he’d done so a hundred times already. She was odd. Completely different from the girls he usually dealt with. Though
girl
didn’t quite fit. There was nothing girlish about his last bed warmer, especially not what Ally was exuding. Purity.

Viktor was neither into innocence nor school girls. But this gal had something fascinating. Strange. She looked rather average. Straight, dark hair, eyes that sometimes shimmered gray, then again blue or green. She was slim. Perhaps a bit too slim for his taste. Not like Twiggy, but not exactly curvy either. And still. He took her photo and contemplatively caressed her cheek with his thumb.

There was something about her that drew his attention. Her eyes were peculiar, it almost seemed as if they were constantly changing color. Aside from that she had flawless skin, without any makeup. She was obviously not using any, not even mascara. She didn’t have to. Her eyelashes were long and thick. While studying her picture, he noticed it was not her appearance that made him curious, but her expression.

There was something in her gaze that reminded him of himself, an undefined longing. In the photograph stapled to her file she exuded a sadness that touched him. As if she knew that there was something she’d never have.

He picked up a second image, a snapshot. She’d tilted her head, looking at one of her friends. A huge strength was buried in that look.

He noticed her uneven bangs. Generally, her hair looked as if she had cut it herself despite being able to afforded a star coiffeur. He interpreted her carelessness as a contempt for the world in general or maybe for a specific person in particular. Who was that person she directed her rebelliousness at? Was it her only way to show resistance?

The fact that he couldn’t answer those questions rankled him, which was surprising. Normally, his thoughts were turning around business, security leaks or an upcoming event.

He slowly went through the rest of the pictures. Ally at school, at her training, jogging. No wonder she looked like a rail. In one of the photos she was laughing about something outside the picture. She rarely smiled, he noticed. There were also snapshots of her friend. What was her name again?
Julie
was written on the edge of the photograph. Well, she was definitively more his taste. But he wasn’t looking for a new flirt. He needed something else, and this girl would provide it to him.

The corners of his mouth lifted as he picked up the photo and looked at it again.
You don’t stand a chance.
His smile widened. He’d make sure she would fall for him until she’d do anything for him. They always did. Women weren’t particularly complicated. Most of them were looking for a ruthless bastard with a heart of gold. The first part was him, the second–not. Whoever saw a contradiction had no idea about the other sex. The women hitting on him were fully convinced that he was tortured soul. An ass, sure, but one driven by inner demons who just hadn’t met the right woman yet. Somebody who’d understand him. Everyone of them wanted to be that woman, taming the beast.

Well, bullshit! He should’ve been shocked that he, barely twenty years, played this fucked-up game so well. But it didn’t. In the end it was just a game–one he won too quickly for his taste.

He was bored out of his mind. Before a new conquest he hoped to have found a worthy opponent. And every time he was disappointed again.

The worst kind were the ones that pretended to be aloof in hopes of seeming more interesting, when really it was just one variation of the same strategy.

Boring.

A woman who’d be able to capture him, had to be real–no games.

It was time to find out what kind of stuff this Ally was made of. And how long it would take for her to become wax in his hands. Smirking, he put the photo back into the file.

He gave her a day, maybe two.

When Danilo knocked, Viktor’s mood had lifted. In the end they all fell into his lap, Ally wouldn’t be an exception. With one last look at the photograph he closed the dossier and turned towards his head of security, whom he purposefully didn’t offer a seat. He wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, a good preparation for this conversation.

Injured
, that was the word he’d been looking for to describe the expression in Ally’s eyes.

Well, too bad. Injured girls were an easy prey.

~ * ~

The
Le Bristol
turned out to be a super duper luxury joint near the Champs-Élysées, which explained Julie’s sassy grin on the bus. As soon as they’d reached their suite Julie threw herself onto the king size bed and fell asleep within seconds with a smile on her lips.

Ally on the other hand was wide awake. First, she put together her cell phone and realized she’d missed a half dozen calls, all of them from David. She didn’t call her mailbox. He was probably livid and threatening to ground her until the end of days. She could do without that. What she wanted were answers, and they were somewhere in that lappy. She only had to find them. She turned it on, typed in the password and entered different search functions: Cole, CP, OSK and her name. The contents seemed to be encoded, but from Cole’s last messages she gathered that he was always moving in a specific pattern. He never called from the same location twice. Instead, he changed positions counterclockwise. The first call came from the Nineteenth Arrondissement, the second from the Eighteenth, the next from the Seventeenth district and so on. If he continued like that, next time he’d call from the Fifteenth Arrondissement, the largest district of Paris.

It was a strange feeling that he might be just a few blocks away from her. She’d never come this close to him before.

After having looked for clues for two more hours she got tired and fell asleep over her work.

~ * ~

The ringing of her cell made her sit up with a start. According to the position of the sun it was early morning, but it still felt like night. Damn jet lag. Ally rubbed her eyes and glanced at the display. Judging by the number, the call came from somewhere in the city. Interesting, since she didn’t know anybody in Paris.

“Yes?”

“Alienor Reynolds,” an unknown voice said. It was a guy. Apart from a slight French accent, he spoke perfect Oxford English.

“Who wants to know?”

“It wasn’t a question,” he replied. He must be about her age. Carefully she opened up to his energy. If he lied, she’d sense it.

“I’d really like to chat, but unfortunately I have to be brief.”

“Good to know.” He laughed in response, which relaxed the tension a bit. It was a nice laugh.

“My name is Jean Lacroix. My father and your uncle are close friends. The SIM card of your mobile allows Mr. Reynolds to track you down.”

Ally’s jaw dropped. The energetic signature told her he was telling the truth. But then again, maybe he was a certified liar like David. He’d lied to her all the time and she’d never noticed.

“Remove the SIM and break it into bits and pieces otherwise you’re traceable.”

“And I believe you, because…?”

“We don’t have time for that. Get rid of that chip then get in touch with me.”

He gave her a Skype address, which she hastily scribbled down on Julie’s notepad.

“I’ll wait exactly three minutes. If you don’t call you won’t learn anything about your father.”

“Hey, wait a minute!”

“Tick tack,” he replied, then the line went dead.

Ally stared at the display, too confused to think straight.

Who was that jerk and what kind of game was he playing? Did he really think she’d kill her phone just because he asked her to…? Damn it! Without consulting her brain, she went with her guts and threw the smart phone onto the ground. After stamping her heel on it she took the SIM card, went to the bathroom, snapped the chip in two and flushed it down the toilet. After that she closed her eyes and hit her forehead with one hand. If this guy had pulled her leg, he owed her a phone, that much was certain.

With a sigh, she tinkered the iPad out of her bag and opened Skype. Jean logged in as soon as she was online. He had pale skin, hazelnut colored eyes and short brown hair.

“Two minutes. I’m impressed.”

“I wasn’t quite awake yet, otherwise I’d never have let you talk me into this.”

He smiled in response, which looked good on him. “Now you’re awake.”

“That doesn’t make it better.“ Ally wrinkled her brow. “And what’s this supposed to mean anyway? What do you know about my dad?”

The smug smile disappeared and his expression became serious. “Your dad was like my father.”

Her questioning look was written all over her face. 

“I’m talking about the
SK-Operation
, the
Special Skills
,” he added impatiently. “My father was one of them just like yours, n’est-ce pas?”

“One of
what
?”

He looked at her in disbelief. “One of the test subjects, what else?” At her obviously confused expression, he leaned in. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know about it.” He narrowed his eyes to slits. “Why else would you be here?”

Ally’s throat became dry and she had to clear it a few times before she could utter her next words. If she’d let it slip how clueless she was he might not tell her anything. If they were on the same eye level, her chance of getting information increased. At least so she hoped. “O-of course I know about
OSK
. Well, there’s a project straight for the trash.” It was supposed to sound cool, but her voice sounded unnaturally high.

“One could say that,” he replied grimly. “So, what are your skills?”

Um. “You first.”

He grinned and squinted his eyes. “Is that a vase in your back?”

She turned around, and yup, there was a bouquet of lilies on the side table against the wall. She nodded and turned back to the screen when something crashed behind her. The vase was now in pieces on the floor.

“What the…”

Jean lifted one corner of his mouth. “Telekinesis.”

Oh. My. God. He had just destroyed a vase, big as a pumpkin, in her hotel room–via remote control. If that was so easy-peasy for him, what else was he capable of?