“No.” Henry didn’t wait to be questioned by Simon, he needed answers quickly. “Did you find out who Danielle Perrault is? Or Alex?”
Simon paused, and his voice turned more serious, mirroring Henry’s tone. “Sorry about the delay, we’ve been searching for more information. Danielle Perrault is the name of the sister of someone we’re monitoring. He provides the fine art collateral for the gunrunners to use in their larger purchases. Luc Perrault.”
“Luc?” L.P. The initials over Gabe’s breast. Shit. If Danielle was this guy’s sister, was Luc Gabe’s ex-boyfriend?
“Yeah. We still haven’t figured out who Alex is.”
“What’s he look like, this Luc fellow?” Henry picked up his pace toward the hotel.
“Longer dark hair, medium height, medium build. More Mediterranean than French.”
Simon perfectly described the man covered in champagne. From the way he’d ordered everyone around, he had to be the biggest player in the room. “I think I saw him at the auction. Screaming at that French guy you introduced me to in Scotland.”
“Brian Fouchet?”
“I guess.” He paused for a red light at a busy intersection, his impatience growing.
“Give them space. They care less about art than they do about profit. Do you think Gabe is actually Danielle?”
“No. She appears too different from the passport photo. Gabe also has a tattoo on her chest. The initials ‘L.P.’”
Simon swore. “That’s a bloody significant thing to forget to tell me. Where’s Gabe now?”
“I don’t know. She disappeared. I’m heading back to the hotel to search for her.”
The phone went silent for a few seconds. “Be careful. Luc is deadly. He’s one of the biggest dealers in stolen antiquities from Afghanistan and Cambodia.”
Luc had to be the man who had threatened her and forced her on the run. He had to be the man who had hurt her physically and emotionally. Panic rose in his gut. He’d led her right into his hands. “I’m going back to our hotel room now. I have to find her.”
“Without the portrait?”
“Are you serious? I don’t care about the damned portrait. I have to find Gabe.”
“I understand, but she could go back to black hair and Goth clothes and disappear into the nearest university town.”
She had five hundred pounds in addition to some euros and dollars. She could make a clean break.
“If she goes underground, we’ll never find her.” Henry jogged toward the hotel.
“We need more information. Anything else you can think of about her identity?”
“One more tattoo. An acorn on her wrist.”
“I noticed that one. I’ll call the analysts at the office to see if they can decipher all of this new information. Get back to the hotel and see if she made it.”
“I’m on my way. How can we be sure she’s linked to this Luc person?”
“This is going to sound funny, but have you noticed whether Gabe is fluent in any foreign languages?” Simon asked.
“She spoke fluent French on the plane over. Why?”
“The ex-girlfriend of Luc is some sort of linguistic genius. No one is sure how many languages she knows, but it’s a lot.”
…
Alex tucked all of her loose hair into the baseball cap as she walked. She bent over to alter her posture and cruised through the lobby in bare feet and stolen clothes with a firm destination in mind. Her hotel room.
The elevators, however, weren’t cooperating. Alex monitored the front door for signs of Luc or Henry. The tapping of her foot, the only outward sign of her agitation, stopped as soon as she realized how impatient she appeared. When she heard the soft ping announcing the arrival of the elevator to the farthest left, she strolled over, allowed a heavyset businessman in a golf shirt to exit, and then slid in and rapidly pushed her floor button three times. As the doors closed, Alex prayed no one would throw a wayward foot between the doors to stall her escape. When the elevator finally lifted, Alex paced back and forth until she reached the eighth floor.
Sprinting down the hall, she entered the room, ripped open her suitcase, and took out her two passports. She changed into a plain black T-shirt and her own jeans and threw on the new Converse Henry had purchased for her.
Henry.
She couldn’t think about him right now; she needed to protect her family, especially if Luc did learn her true identity. Besides, Henry would be better off without her. A life in the country raising a gaggle of children with a devoted spouse could be his future. Her future, on the other hand, had become tainted the moment she fell for Luc, and Henry didn’t deserve to follow her into such a mess. She jogged to the door carrying her most practical possessions in a plastic laundry bag courtesy of the W. Her new suitcase was far too big to drag down the elevator. She paused at the front closet. Henry’s new leather jacket reminded her of him. She threw it on and hustled out the door.
When the elevator hit the lobby, she headed to the valet and handed him the claim ticket.
“What type of car?” he asked.
“Mustang convertible. Red.” She tried to sound breezy and carefree, but her heart thundered beneath Henry’s jacket.
“Nice. I’ll be right back.”
The minute the man left for the garage, Alex spotted Henry entering the front door. She ducked behind the valet stand. His footsteps passed her hiding spot and traveled toward the bank of elevators. She remained hidden until his elevator arrived and departed. She had maybe three minutes to get the car.
Where was the valet? There was no one in front of her. She stood with her back pushed against the outside of the building. Each time an elevator door opened, she ducked down in case Henry returned. After the arrival of six different elevators, the valet drove up to the curb. Alex practically pulled him out of the driver’s seat.
“Here, keep the change.” She handed him one of the two hundred-dollar bills Henry had given her earlier. Most of her funds remained in euros and pounds, the equivalent of monopoly money outside of a major bank or exchange.