Disappearance (30 page)

"Maybe he's already told them," Stana casually suggested. "His daughter has certainly been at his house a while."

Kumar could not argue the point.  He felt he knew Glass well enough.  He knew his strengths and thought he knew his weaknesses.   He could not fathom him exposing his involvement in his daughter's kidnapping, but it was theoretically possible.

"I think you should pay him a visit," Stana said.

"He should be here next week.  I could take a crack at him before he meets with you."

"No, I meant pay him a visit.  At his home!  Get to know the family."

"Why, that may be rather awkward, don't you think?” Kumar said quickly, surprised.

"None of them know you.   Glass can invite you over for dinner as a business associate.  Talk to them.  See if you can detect anything amiss.   Who knows, maybe you'll learn something."

"Well, I guess it could be done," Kumar murmured partly to himself.

"I'd also like you to check with our US associates and get a handle on how much of a threat this guy Eckert poses," Stana continued. "I don't like his involvement any more than I do Glass's other daughter or the boyfriend."

Kumar nodded, a little dismayed at not having thought of all that himself.   Those types of initiatives should have come from him.  He despised being shown the way, especially the right way.

Stana went on, seemingly unaware of his turmoil.

"Glass is due here next Monday.  I'd like you to visit him right after he returns.  In fact, you should join our meeting here and casually invite yourself to his house in LA.  Say you plan to be there anyway. I'll back the idea."

"Anything else?"
Kumar asked, being almost rude now that he had lost the initiative.

"Yes," Stana said without losing a step, his gold rimmed spectacles dropping down his nose. "What are the odds of the sister and boyfriend working alone?  They must have
help somewhere.  There may be others besides Eckert.  Look into it.  It'll be a shame if this sorry affair gets in the way, now that we're so close to reaching our goal."

"We can be bolder than that and eliminate the problem now, without going into added expenses," Kumar remarked, hoping to gain back some initiative.

"Not yet," Stana said holding up his a hand, looking around suspiciously   to make sure they were not being overheard.  He lowered his voice.  "We may still be able to thwart this without the use of violence.   We can't afford to upset Glass before we reach full production.  He too may be expendable after that."

Stana took a long swallow from his red wine, emptying his glass,
then sat back.  He was done.  Kumar signaled the waiter and paid for the meal.  It was the least he could do after such poor showing.

"I've assembled a team just in case," he said as he and Stana walked slowly around the Etoile toward Rue Boissiere. "Schultz will lead it.  They'll be on call to go to the States if we need them."

"Why not use the locals?"  Stana asked, considering the expense.

"I'd rather use Schultz and his people; more reliable.   The locals tend to be erratic at times."

"He doesn't seem too reliable paying up, does he?" Stana said mockingly.

"
I'll see to that." Kumar assured him. "Operationally, he's superior to anyone I've ever used."

Stana tended to agree with Kumar on that point.  Schultz had proven himself more than once in his service and he had never trusted the Americans.

"What are the terms?" he asked, conceding to Kumar's choice.

"That depends on the objective.  A full hit would be half a million up front and another subsequently, plus expenses.  Anything simpler would go according to his price tags."

Stana did not want to know any more. 

"Keep me informed," he said turning the corner to his street, "I'll see you Monday."

Kumar nodded and the two parted company in opposite directions.

CHAPTER 30

Sarah entered a rattling Peugeot taxi at Orly airport, settling in the back seat as it sped away.  The driver had nodded energetically when she handed him the note with the hotel information prepared by her in advance, but he spoke no English and she wondered if he understood where she was headed.

They reached the Peripherique twenty minutes later and as they joined with the busy freeway traffic she caught her first glimpse of Paris.  Towers and ornate pillars of famous palaces and churches peaked at her from across the River Seine as the taxi weaved its way among the scampering blend of cars.

They exited the Peripherique at Boulevard Maillot and submerged into the city driving west toward the Arc de Triomphe.  Sarah felt seduced by the incredibly aesthetic form of buildings and streets that seemed like a stage backdrop of a play.

For a moment she felt it wouldn't matter if they never reached the hotel. The boulevard was wide and spacious with tall trees and neatly   trimmed bushes systematically dispersed on precisely cut grass, with colorful flower beds decorating its sides.  The buildings radiated wealth and influence combined with centuries of concealed history fused into their gray walls and high arched windows.

They reached the Etoile. For a moment she was awestruck by the famous Arch surprised by its sheer size, then held her breath as the driver plunged into the whirling traffic madness.  She had the urge to shut her eyes and pray, but she kept watching the driver maneuver masterfully around three quarters of the Etoile before sharply veering right, making a hairpin exit.

The hotel had a modest entrance off a narrow, brick paved street that merged with Avenue Kleber at a busy intersection where three other streets combined.  Sarah paid the driver and was left standing on the pavement until a concierge stepped through the glass doors and seized her belongings.  As she turned to follow she noticed the Eiffel again, shimmering tall and dignified in the distance, dwarfing all other buildings. She looked at the tower thinking of how she had
imagined the legendary city from all that she had seen and read, and her stomach knotted with excitement as she realized that the real thing was even better.

Later that evening she took the Metro to the old Latin district around St. Germaine Boulevard, and walked the streets until her legs felt full of lead.   She caught a taxi back from Luxembourg Gardens and was back at the hotel at half past three.  She woke up at ten the following morning and began her preparations.

His Air France flight was due in from Los Angeles at eleven that morning at Charles de Gaulle airport and Glass was expected at the hotel around midday.  At half past eleven, she positioned herself in front of a small Tabac shop across the street from the hotel, keeping its lone entrance well in view. Sarah purchased an English newspaper, ordered café olé with sweet biscuits and prepared to wait.  Her Nikon camera with the zoom lens and miniature tape recorder were tucked in her oversized orange handbag, ready to be unsheathed.

Glass showed up at a quarter to one. He came alone. The taxi dropped him off in front of the hotel and the concierge carried his large suitcase inside.  Sarah had shot half a roll of film by then.

He came out an hour later walking briskly toward her.   She was slow to react.  She managed to drop the camera into her bag and froze as he swooped by her into the shop.  From the corner of her eye she could see him approach the register. She didn't dare turn further.  She sat rigid looking straight ahead waiting for him to leave.  When he finally did, he kept walking straight on Avenue Kleber, away from the hotel. She began to scramble to get her things together and pay for her coffee when she saw him enter a public phone booth a little further down the Avenue. She quickly paid the aging waitress and got up to follow.

Glass spoke briefly on the phone and continued on his way. He turned right on Rue Boissiere walking rapidly up the small incline.  Sarah kept a moderate distance behind him, keeping close to random pedestrians moving in the same direction.  There weren't many at that hour and she felt quite exposed.

At the top of the incline Glass stopped and turned to face a wrought  iron gate.  Sarah was quite a ways from him when he suddenly disappeared from view.  She rushed across to the other side of the street to get a better angle and managed to see him entering a yellowish three-storey building.

She kept walking, crossing an alley with another
tabac on the corner, situated right across from the building Glass had entered.  She continued a ways up the street then doubled back and entered the shop.  The place was small and loaded with goods.  Along its back wall, opposite the cash register, was a long counter where several people sat chatting and drinking.  Above the counter were three small windows that allowed observation of the street and the buildings across.

Sarah ordered coffee and sat at the counter, facing the windows.   The first thing she noticed about the yellowish three-storey building was it being completely enclosed by the iron fence, its only entrance being the one through which Glass had entered.  The clearing between the building and fence was paved with concrete slabs and was deserted except for a few stone statues that looked out of place.  No light was visible through any of the building's windows which were small and caged with iron bars.  The building resembled a fortress.

Sarah got up to stretch after an hour.  She walked around the small shop, peeked outside at the street studying it a little more carefully, then ordered another coffee and was back at her post.  She began to feel that she had stretched her welcome at the shop after another hour, so she grabbed her orange bag and left to find another vantage point.  Not far up the street, she found a few clothing shops that enabled her to keep the building in sight.  She wandered around each store for twenty minutes keeping to the front display windows, stepping outside every now and then to make sure she was not being evaded by Glass.  When Glass did not show for another hour, she decided to make a pass at the building. She walked slowly along the iron fence, taking a quick glance as she passed by the gate, noticing a name etched in gold on a rectangular silver plate above the gate knob.   It read 'Krausse-Hauser'. She continued down the street almost to Avenue Kleber then crossed over and started up the opposite side this time finding a small book shop to pass the time.   Minutes later, as she raised her eyes from an impressionist collection she had been browsing through, she saw him pass her by.  She waited, saw him turn the corner, and rushed to follow.

He headed straight back to the hotel and did not come out until the following morning.  Sarah spent most of her evening around the hotel lobby and its vicinity, waiting for him to show.  She turned in at midnight and was up and ready by six the next morning.  Glass appeared at eight thirty.  He ate breakfast at the hotel and by nine was heading back toward the 'fortress'.

She watched him approach the fortress from a distance and began searching for a proper place to photograph the building. She did not want to risk it from within the tabac or any of the other small shops, afraid someone would notice so she tried a few of the building doors opposite the fortress but they were bolted shut.  She went past the tabac again and noticed a man come out of a building further down the street. The person had turned his back and was heading away from her.  The door to his building was slowly closing.  Sarah ran the last few steps and managed to slip into the building unnoticed.  She went up a flight of stairs and looked out through the narrow stairway window.  She could see the fortress but at bad angle.  She climbed another flight of stairs and almost ran into an open door. An elderly couple stepped out, looking at her suspiciously. She climbed another flight as the couple headed down.  The window on the third and last floor was blocked so she ran back down to the second floor, taking out her camera in stride.  She took several photos of the fortress able to catch only half the building from a cumbersome angle and was in the process of trying to position her camera better when she noticed Glass stepping out the gate accompanied by another man. The two started walking in her direction on the opposite side of the street.  She quickly aimed her zoom on them and consumed her role of film with one squeeze.  Then she ran down the stairs and slipped out of the building, on their heels.

They reached the Victor Hugo Etoile at the end of Rue Boissiere and began to circle around.  They stopped in front of a restaurant across Avenue Victor Hugo and looked around hesitantly until a man, dark complexioned and wearing a tailored gray suit and a shiny orange tie, showed up to greet them and led them to an outdoor table underneath an assembly of green parasols.

Sarah stopped to replace the film in her camera.  She was leaning against a tree with a clear line of sight to the three men who had just managed to organize themselves around to table. She shot off her camera quickly consuming half a roll.  Then she circled the Etoile in the opposite direction, found another tree, and photographed them from a different angle focusing on Glass's two companions, congratulating herself on her choice of lens which allowed her to capture them from a safe distance.

She took out the second finished roll, inserted a third, and threw the camera in her bag.  Then she found a crowded little tavern nearby and sat outside, camouflaged by some shade, keeping an eye on the three men who were, by now, deep in conversation.

Glass and his companion left the dark man sitting at the table an hour later. Sarah hesitated. She considered abandoning Glass to follow the dark man, but finally decided against it. Glass was her objective; their only current link to Karen.  The others could be common, everyday, business associates, though she strongly doubted it.

The two men returned to the fortress for a brief stint then emerged from the gate where a taxi promptly picked them up. Sarah cursed herself for not anticipating it.  She quickly looked around for another taxi but none were available.  Helpless, she stood watching the taxi drive off, disappearing among the narrow streets.

She walked back to the hotel turning over in her mind what she had been able to accomplish.  She had the name and location of the company Glass had come to visit and she had photos of Glass and his companions.  Not a bad day's work, she thought.

Later, after making certain Glass had not returned, she had the film developed into double prints.  She sent one full copy of the prints, next day courier, to a Los Angeles post office box address Lisa had given her.  The second copy and negatives she kept herself.

She saw Glass only briefly when he returned that afternoon to pick up his effects and check out, on his way to the airport.

She still had one more evening in Paris.