The Pleasures of Autumn (34 page)

There was a flash, a loud crack. ‘
Merde!
’ someone yelped. A gun slid along the ground, landing beside him. He didn’t waste time wondering where it came from. He grabbed it and pointed it at the side of Hall’s head.

‘Game over,’ he panted.

Hall went rigid. He knew when he stared death in the face. It would take no more than a twitch of Niall’s finger.

Then Andy was holding a gun on the group. ‘Hands in the air.’

Still pointing his own gun at Hall’s head, Niall backed away.

Sinead was there, holding the whip in a businesslike grip, and the blond gorilla was nursing his hand. A red welt marked the back of it. The tall, dark-haired man had a matching welt on his face.

‘Did you do that?’ he asked Sinead.

‘Yes.’ Her voice quivered a little. ‘He was going to shoot you.’

‘God, I love you.’ It wasn’t how he had meant to say it, but, hell, it was true, and he didn’t care who knew it. Carefully, never letting up the pressure on Hall’s skull, he levered himself to his feet.

‘Roisin,’ he called. ‘Come and tie Hall up. Something tells me you’re very good at knots.’

She came forwards, pulling the long leather thong from her hair. As she knelt beside Hall, she got her first good look at him and recoiled. ‘You!’

‘What is it?’ Sinead asked. She still held her whip like a weapon.

‘I saw him kill someone.’

He saw Hall’s eyes meet hers and Roisin flinch. She rallied and tied his hands behind his back, ruthlessly tightening the thong until the circulation was almost cut off.

‘Who?’

Before she could answer, a voice shouted from the passageway. ‘
C’est la police. Déposez vos armes.
’

‘Fuck,’ Hall spat.

Sinead quickly wrapped the tail of the whip tightly around the handle. She couldn’t lose the Fire now. It was the only way of getting her life back. She crammed it inside her catsuit and zipped it up.

‘Sinead, get on the ground and stay there.’ Niall’s voice cut through the anxious cries.

She obeyed without thinking, dropping to a crouch. After that, there was chaos – men shouting, the tramping
of heavy boots on flagstones and flashes of green light.

Moments later, the emergency lights came on, bathing the catacombs in an eerie light. A row of skulls grinned at her from only feet away.

‘
Déplacez-vous à l’extérieur s’il vous plaît
. Move outside please.’

The traumatized group hurried to obey the armed policeman’s order. Sinead looked around her. On the far side of the cavern, Niall stood talking to a pair of men wearing riot gear. He gave his report calmly while the men nodded. They might have been discussing the weather.

Ignoring a shouted warning, Sinead crossed the room and threw her arms around him. He was bloody and bruised, but alive. ‘Thank god you’re okay.’

Niall took her mouth in a fierce kiss. ‘I’ll tan your hide when I get you home.’

‘Yes, please.’ She grinned up at him.

‘
Madame, s’il vous plaît
. You must come with me now.’

The policeman took her arm and led her through the passageways, up the steep stairway and into the night. She drew in a lungful of air. A small crowd had gathered, drawn by the flashing lights and the sirens. It wasn’t every day there was a shooting in the catacombs. Trying to look nonchalant, she took a seat in the waiting police van and craned her neck, trying to see Niall and Andy emerging from the catacombs.

She was in a heap of trouble but they were alive. Nothing else mattered. The van pulled away, jerking her back against the headrest.

Sitting in the seat opposite was her sister.

‘You,’ Roisin snapped.

‘I might say the same to you, sister.’ Sinead sat up straight in her seat, ready to do battle. How dare she talk to her like this? Roisin had wrecked her life and now she was giving her dirty looks, as if she was the injured sister?

Roisin ignored the interested looks of the other passengers. ‘Where’s that arrogant ass boyfriend of yours? This wasn’t part of the deal. Tell him I want out of here.’

Even with the different accents, their voices were similar. While hers had a hint of Irish, Roisin’s was English. London, if she wasn’t mistaken.

She stared at her twin’s face. The similarities were uncanny, but Roisin’s cheekbones were stronger and her mouth was different. When she lifted her hand to her mouth and bit the nail of her index finger, Sinead could see that her teeth were slightly crooked, with a small overbite. Well, that was one way of telling them apart. She half smiled but Roisin didn’t smile back. If anything, she looked pissed off.

Sinead struggled to contain her temper. This was nothing like the reunion she had imagined. Hugs, tears, lots of ‘I missed you so much’, but not the scowling woman sitting across the aisle from her.

This wasn’t the Roro of her dreams. This was a thief and a liar. She had stolen the Fire of Autumn and her life and
she didn’t even have the decency to apologize. ‘Nice to meet you again. How long has it been? Twenty years? More?’

Rosin sat up in her seat. ‘Is that all? It seems like a century. I’m sick of Dad boring me about how wonderful your life is.’

‘Really?’ Sinead didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm from her voice. ‘So you felt it necessary to ruin it?’

‘You bet. It’s amazing what you can find out on the internet – if you’re interested. Perfect little princess Sinead. Rich uncle who owns an airline. Posh job at the museum. Yada yada yada.’

Sinead kept her voice low with an effort. ‘If you knew who I was, why didn’t you contact me? You knew more about me than I knew about you. At least you knew I was alive. Do you have any idea what it was like when no one would believe you existed? I thought I was going crazy.’

‘You did?’

‘I kept telling them about you, and everyone told me I was imagining you. I almost started to believe them.’

Roisin’s face didn’t soften. ‘Oh yeah? Well, boo fucking hoo. I was on the run with Dad most of the time. I went to fifteen different schools under four different names.’

The venom in Roisin’s voice stunned her.

‘You should have contacted me. I could have helped you.’ She had no doubt the O’Sullivans would have taken Roisin in.

‘Yeah? Sure you would. You were always the favourite. The one Mammy wanted to keep with her. She begged Dad to take me away.’

Sinead had been so obsessed with finding Roisin, she
hadn’t thought any further. Now she did. ‘Dada? Where is he?’

Roisin’s eyes slid away from hers. ‘None of your business. I’m taking care of it.’

‘Tell me, please.’ She had a father. Sinead had to know more.

Roisin looked bored. ‘He’s in prison. Can you believe his hard drive crashed on one of his computer scams and he got caught?’

‘Computer scams?’ Sinead winced.

‘Sure, if you know what you’re doing, you can make computers do anything for you.’

Something clicked into place. ‘Like find the access code for the Rheinbach’s security system?’

Roisin grinned. ‘That job was fun. It was a real challenge, dressing up like you and then cracking their system.’

‘Fun?’ Sinead couldn’t believe it. ‘You stole the Fire of Autumn for fun?’ Roisin nodded. ‘How did you not leave fingerprints? Even identical twins have different fingerprints.’

‘Easy. Superglue on my fingertips. Nothing to see and no fingerprints left. All it takes is a bit of practice to get the amount right.’

A tube of superglue?

Roisin shrugged. ‘I needed the money. Dad pissed off some nasty people. Not that you’d understand anything like that. I wasn’t going to keep the stone. The museum would have bought it back from me.’

Sinead closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she was hearing this. ‘You thought it would be okay to destroy my career, and see me end up in jail, because you were strapped for cash?’

‘Don’t you dare judge me! You have no idea what my life has been like, Little Ms Perfect.’

‘I didn’t mean …’ Damn. She hadn’t meant to insult her. She had searched so long for her sister. This was not how it was supposed to turn out. No matter what Roisin had done, she didn’t want to lose her again. ‘I’m sorry I –’

The van stopped and the door opened. A baby-faced policeman motioned them to get out. The street outside the Parisian police headquarters was in an uproar. The press had got hold of the story and the Île de la Cité was thronged with reporters. Sinead kept her head down, ignoring their shouted questions and flashing cameras. On the pavement, an elderly German tourist remonstrated loudly about police incompetence and how she had almost been killed. While she delivered her lecture to the young officer, nobody could get out of the van.

Roisin sniggered. Sinead wondered what was so amusing about the mess they were in. In the few minutes they had spent together, she had realized how different they were. They might look the same, but Roisin was a petty criminal with a cynical outlook on the world. She wondered how much of it was down to her father. If he had taken both of them to England, would she have turned out the same?

She watched Roisin pull a dark wool hat from the pocket of her mac and tug it over her head.

‘Time for me to bail,’ she said, pulling the collar up around her, so that her hair was concealed.

‘You can’t be serious? What are you going to –?’

Sinead was distracted as the angry German tourist was joined by another and then a third. A dark flush swept up
from the policeman’s neckline and over his face. Roisin had moved ahead of her and was among those jostling for position at the open doors of the van, trying to get out.

Afterwards, Sinead wasn’t sure what happened. One moment, a grey-haired woman hovered on the step, the next she had toppled to the ground. She lay there – clutching her arm, crying loudly – while her husband tried to comfort her. The policeman looked around for assistance, before getting on his radio and requesting help. As he was swallowed by a horde of anxious tourists, she almost felt sorry for him. Two policemen arrived, one carrying a first aid kit. Suddenly Sinead realized that Roisin was gone. She scanned the crowd, but her sister was nowhere to be seen.

‘This way, please.
Venez ici, s’il vous plaît
.’ A blonde policewoman clapped her hands to capture their attention.

Those left in the van climbed out and followed her obediently into the building. Standing on the pavement, Sinead looked around, but there was no sign of Niall or Andy. The police must be holding them separately. She trudged into the foyer of the station. Exhaustion was catching up with her. She was hungry and badly needed a shower.

Inside, they huddled in small groups; some were shocked, but others were angry. The woman in the floral dress pointed her finger at Sinead. ‘She was one of them. She was with the men who had the guns.’

Damn. Sinead pretended she hadn’t heard. She didn’t need this right now. What she did need was to get Niall and get out of here. A glance around her revealed that more than one person had heard the woman’s accusation.

The blonde policewoman motioned her forwards. ‘Madame, if you would please come this way.’

Sinead sighed. There was nothing she could do except obey. Forcing a smile, she followed the woman along the corridor and into a small interview room.

‘Wait here, please.’

Sinead slumped into a plastic chair. The tiny room was overheated, but she was afraid to open her suit a little in case they saw what she was carrying. Would this nightmare never end?

The mirrored wall on the other side of the room was undoubtedly a viewing point. She stared nonchalantly at it, as if she didn’t know what it was. Ten long minutes passed before the door opened again. By that time, she could smell the sweat in her own hair.

‘Miss O’Sullivan? Miss Sinead O’Sullivan?’ The portly man pronounced her name ‘Shin-ad’ and she gave him a tight smile. The fact that he already knew her name didn’t bode well. She was busted.

‘Nice to meet you.’ She stood up and offered her hand. There was no point in giving up yet. Not without trying. ‘Do you need a statement now? I’m exhausted, so is there any chance we could do this tomorrow?’

The tight-lipped blonde detective who accompanied him raised a disapproving eyebrow.

Okay, so there would be no deferral.

The detective took the seat opposite her and smiled. ‘I’ve spoken to some of the other tourists and there appears to be some confusion about your role in the events that occurred earlier.’

He laced his fingers together, the very picture of
patience and interest. Blondie shifted to her other foot. He hadn’t invited her to sit.

What could she tell him? Anything about Hall would only lead the conversation back to the stone and she had no idea if they were holding Niall and Andy or what they had told the police. Sinead swallowed. ‘Can I have some water please?’

‘Of course.’ He nodded to the blonde, who disappeared in search of water.

They sat silently staring at each other. Was it her imagination, or had the room become hotter in the last few minutes? She fingered the collar of her leather suit.

‘Please,’ he gestured with his hand. ‘Make yourself comfortable. You look a little flushed.’

‘I’m fine thanks.’

She sat unmoving in the chair and almost cried with relief when the blonde returned carrying a bottle of Evian and a plastic cup. She murmured her thanks and gulped the water down eagerly.

The detective smiled. ‘As you seem disinclined to discuss events in the catacombs, perhaps I should inform you that we have received a request from our colleagues in Geneva for assistance.’ His smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. ‘Where is the Fire of Autumn?’

His words were almost a relief. All the running, all the danger was over. She had the stone in her possession. All she needed to do was convince them that she hadn’t stolen it. Sinead unzipped her catsuit and drew out the whip, laying it across the white Formica table.

Small and dangerous, the coiled leather whip exuded a promise of very naughty things. The studs set into the
handle were dull and discoloured with use. A faint smell of leather pervaded the interview room. Blondie stepped forwards to take a closer look.

Set into the base of the handle was a large red stone. Sinead’s heart leapt every time she saw it. A fabulous jewel with a dark history and now she was a part of it.

The first sultan who had owned it had named the ruby The Heat of Desire. He had presented it to each of his seven wives in turn on their wedding night, to mark their joy in their surrender to him. It was rumoured that he had used it to pleasure them when they –

‘Do you have anything to say at this time?’

Sinead jerked her attention back to reality at his question. ‘Yes, I want a phone call and a lawyer.’