“Why now?” Jean-Luc worried out aloud. “Schneider’s worked for Dylan for over a decade. Why defect now?”
“Because the net’s tightening around Dylan,” I replied. “He’s running out of money. Bethany’s family is supposedly hiring detectives. Interpol is closing in, asking uncomfortable questions about missing women. He doesn’t know it yet, but an arrest is only weeks away. However, he’s always had good instincts about trouble and he’s ordered a clean-up. Anyone who has ever worked for him has a bounty on their heads.” I smiled with grim satisfaction. “One of the targets is a former lover of Schneider’s.”
I was Dylan’s financier. I paid the bills. The killings had been arranged through me, or so Dylan had thought. The reality was that each kill was reported back to Dylan while I moved the targets to safety. Jean-Luc knew that – he had played a role in that operation.
I did what I could to atone for the fact that I’d been unable to put a bullet in Dylan’s brain, but I hated my weakness. As a result of my shameful inability to pull the trigger, three women had endured hell at Dylan’s hands.
Jean-Luc looked sympathetic, as he did every time we talked about Dylan. As much as we’d disagreed on many things, this had been the one topic he’d never questioned me on. He understood. “Is he planning a run for it? Flee Hanoi the way he fled Abeokuta?”
“He doesn’t have enough cash,” I replied. I couldn’t bring myself to kill Dylan McAllister, but there were many other ways to ruin a man. Money was a very effective weapon. I’d made sure Dylan didn’t have any available funds. I’d also systematically removed anyone who had ever helped Dylan. Stanislav Durov had provided Dylan shelter in Tbilisi, and so Durov was dead. Sylvia had arranged the last two women to be kidnapped for Dylan. She wouldn’t live past the end of the week.
“I’m going to reply to Schneider,” I said, making up my mind. “He wants a million. I’ll make him a counter-offer. See where it goes.”
“Suddenly protective of your money?” Jean-Luc asked dryly.
“It’s the expected thing to bargain,” I replied. “I can’t appear too eager. Daniel doesn’t know who I am or why I want the information.”
“Why do you want the information, Alexander?” Jean-Luc probed. “After all, you’ve found most of Dylan’s former slaves. Where you can, you’ve made amends.”
“Where I can,” I echoed. “I’ve never been able to find Ellie Samuelson. Two of the girls whose bodies we located, we just know a name. Claire Bectell. Wendy Zhang. Those girls had families, loved ones. They deserve closure. If a million dollars will reveal more information, I have to spend it.”
“You aren’t responsible for Dylan’s actions.” Jean-Luc’s voice was gentle.
I shook my head. This was not a subject about which I’d permit conversation.
“Okay.” Jean-Luc didn’t continue to make his point. This wasn’t a new topic for us. We’d argued it to death and on this, I wasn’t going to bend. “Now, Jenny, or whoever she really is.”
“Her cover story’s definitely fake then?” Of course, I’d known that. It hadn’t stopped me from hoping otherwise.
“It is. But Jenny Fullerton is a real person.”
“Identity theft?”
“No police reports have been filed, so most likely, she sold her identity to your girl.”
“Who is she then? Are you making any inroads into finding out?”
Jean-Luc shook his head, clearly frustrated. “Her cover story is well designed, but a story like that can’t withstand detailed scrutiny. Yet I still have no clue who your girl really is. I’m not giving up yet, of course. We are monitoring her calls and I have a twenty-four hour tail on her. I will figure this out.”
I raised an eyebrow, impressed. Jean-Luc had been at work for a week and he had nothing to show for it. This never happened.
“What about the sister that she calls? Who is she?”
“There’s a real woman on the other end of the phone line,” he replied. “But she’s not a sister, there’s no resemblance, and she isn’t suffering from leukemia.” He shot me a look. “Alexander, you must be careful around this woman. She isn’t working alone.”
No, she wasn’t. It would take a team of people to put her cover story into place and maintain it.
I decided not to tell Jean-Luc I’d spent the night with her nestled in my arms. He’d kill me for such lamentable lack of security, but sometimes, it was necessary to operate on instinct. Every instinct of mine told me I didn’t need to be overly concerned. When the time was right, the truth would reveal itself.
Chapter 6
Ellie / Jenny: