The Warhol Incident (18 page)

R
yan worked throughout the night, coordinating raids and assigning locations for evidence and suspects to be held. Delacroix opened the Interpol offices to help deal with the overwhelming amount of evidence and suspects being brought in. Reneaux was on the radio with the team leaders, making sure the timing and coordination all went down properly. Whatever else happened tonight, I was sure of one thing, the city would have one less crime syndicate to deal with in the morning.

I had been little actual help, other than to file paperwork and organize each raid into its own evidence folder.
I also had the important task of keeping the coffeepot filled. I waited all night for confirmation of Abelard’s capture. Unfortunately, no positive identification was made.

“I’m sure we
got him,” Ryan reassured me as we stood near the coffeepot, watching as things calmed down. “They grabbed so many people tonight. He’s probably just lost in the throng of it all.”

“Yeah.
” I looked anxiously at my watch. There was a plane to catch in three and a half hours. Was I still going to board even if Abelard hadn’t been found?

“You’re leaving today
, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.” He offered a friendly smile. Things had died down as everyone cataloged evidence, booked skels, and filed reports. “I’ll tell Reneaux we’re leaving, then I’m taking you back to your hotel to get packed, and then to the airport.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer. “In the meantime,” he filled a paper cup from the water cooler, “drink this. You look like you’re about to hit the floor.” I drank obediently, waiting for him to return.

*              *             *

Ryan was lying on the bed in my hotel room with his eyes closed when I got out of the shower. I had a moment of complete contempt for him and his ability to rest, but I pushed it aside as I unlocked the safe in my room and unceremoniously tossed everything into my duffel bag. I took the bag into the bathroom and repeated the process.

“I don’t think you can fly
with a taser in your carry-on,” he retorted. His eyes were still closed, and I was amazed he was aware of anything that was going on. 

“Private jet, rules
don’t apply,” I responded, opening the closet and throwing everything else into my bag. I was fighting with the zipper when Ryan gently pushed my hands away, zipping the bag in one fluid motion.

“
Would you like to explain how a former OIO agent gets to return home on a private jet?”

“Great timing and working private security for James Ma
rtin has its perks.”

“James Martin?” He
eyed me strangely.

“CEO of Martin Technologies.
” I was waiting for some type of recognition.

“
Uh-huh,” he responded. I was beginning to feel like a suspect. “Was it his painting you were retrieving for Evans-Sterling?”

“No.
Mark Jablonsky, my OIO commander, got me hired on to do some bodyguard work for him a few months back. I’ve been consulting for his company ever since.” I didn’t see why any of this was Ryan’s business, but he was a cop by nature. It came with the territory. “It just so happens that Luc Guillot, the head honcho of the Paris branch, is flying to the States, and I figured I might as well save on airfare.”

“Guillot’s the new VP.
” Ryan was more up-to-date than I would have guessed.

“Yeah.
How did you...,” I began.

“It was in the finance section of the pa
per,” he interjected. He picked up my duffel bag, and I gave the room a last once over before opening the door and leading us down to the front desk in order to check out. “Bodyguard work?” His face was lined with admiration. “You?”

“Ridiculou
s notion, I agree.” We were in his car, driving toward the private airstrip.

“I was about
to say that makes you one hell of a badass. Clearly, there would be no need to rescind my lethal comment from the other day.”

“Worst experience ever,” I sighed.
“I agreed to consult on his security protocols and ended up being a twenty-four hour protection detail by myself.” I was still bitter about the way things had gone down.

“Well, he’s still
breathing, and you’re employed. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Trust me, it was.”
I hadn’t talked to anyone about this since it happened. “An entire assault team was hired to kill Martin. He was shot, and I took three to the vest. I watched him nearly bleed to death in front of me.” Ryan looked me in the eye, probably to assess how damaged I was from that experience.

“No wonder you get to t
ake the private jet. Son-of-a-bitch almost got you killed.” That wasn’t quite the way things happened, but I didn’t feel the need to argue.

We pulled up to the airstrip wit
h a half hour to spare. A chauffeured limousine was parked near the plane, indicating Luc and Genevieve Guillot already arrived. I didn’t know if Martin gave them the heads up about my tagging along, but I hoped to avoid them as much as possible. I looked like hell and just wanted to be left alone to sleep for the next eight hours.

“Alex,
” Ryan stopped me before I could open the car door, “I just wanted to say thanks for helping out back there. It’s been a rough couple of days, but if I had to stay one more night in that apartment with the Interpol surveillance van outside my door, I would have lost my bloody mind.”

“Glad
I could be of assistance.” Hopefully, Abelard had been captured. “Let me know how everything turns out.”

“Of course.
I’m sure if we need you for something more, you can coordinate through your Interpol liaison.” He was running through the information in case he forgot anything as I slipped on my jacket to hide the burns and my wounded wrists from the more civilized world. “I’m sorry we didn’t move in sooner.” His voice was softer than I ever heard.

“It’s okay.
You showed up before things got really bad.”

“I don’t want to know what y
our definition of really bad is.”

“Do you have
a pen?”

“Why?
Are you going to write it down for me?” he quipped but handed me the pen from his shirt pocket.

“Paper?”
I was asking for a lot. He pulled out one of his business cards, and I scribbled my home phone number on the back. “When you’re sure you have Abelard, give me a call.” I opened the car door as Ryan tucked my number into his pocket. He picked up my bag and carried it to the plane, flashing his badge to get us through the checkpoint without any real scrutiny and just a precursory glance at my passport.

“I
will,” he promised. He handed over my bag and hugged me. “Take care of yourself.”

“You
, too. Watch your back. And no more deep cover because I’m not coming back here to get Delacroix’s surveillance off your ass again.”

Climbing the stairs to the interior of the jet, I flashed my passport and my Martin Technologies I.D. card at the flight attendant.

“Mademoiselle Parker, so lovely to see you again,” Luc Guillot greeted from one of the plush seats in the back of the cabin.
“James called last night and said you might be traveling with us today.” I gave him a tentative smile, hoping I could talk the flight attendant into letting me sit in the separated area reserved for the crew instead of with the Guillots. “This is my wife, Genevieve.”

“Vivi, please,” she replied.
I nodded at her and smiled, so as not to appear rude.

“Alex,” I introduced myself.
“Pleased to meet you, but if you’ll excuse me, this is kind of heavy.” I indicated my bag and followed the flight attendant to the back of the plane where there was a small storage area. After properly stowing my bag, I re-emerged into the main portion of the cabin where the Guillots were seated comfortably on some bench seats.

“Please,” Luc indicated the seat across from
them, “make yourself comfortable.”

“I appreciate it
, but I’ll stay out of your way,” I said politely. “Enjoy your flight.” I began heading toward the other end of the cabin when Vivi stopped me.

“Alex, are you feeling well?”

“I’m okay.
I didn’t sleep last night.” It was enough of the truth to suffice. She nodded, believing she understood the implications.

“We won’t disturb you.”

The flight attendant pulled a curtain, separating me from the Guillots.
They were talking, but I couldn’t make out the words. Leaning my seat back, I turned on my side and pulled the small shade over the window before closing my eyes. Once we took off and stabilized at the designated altitude, I relaxed and let the drone of the engines and the mumbled chattering of the Guillots lull me to sleep.

“Mademoiselle,” the flight attendant woke me, “we’ve landed.”
I sat up in the chair and winced, amazed that I slept through the landing. I wasn’t a bad flyer, but takeoffs and landings tended to be somewhat dicey.

“Have the Guillots disembarked yet?”

“They are in the process at the moment.”

“Would you mind terribly letting me know once they’re gone?
I don’t want to get in their way.” I was trying to sound reasonable, even though I just wanted to avoid exchanging more pleasantries. Would Martin be outside waiting for them?

“No problem.”
A few minutes later, the flight attendant came back, carrying my bag. I hefted the duffel over my shoulder, almost falling over in the process. It didn’t seem this heavy in Paris. Maybe the U.S. just had a higher level of gravity and that was the reason for our levels of obesity; it had nothing to do with supersized, fast food, processed meals.

Putting on my sunglasses, I exited into the bright morning sunlight.
Mark’s government-issued SUV was parked near the fence surrounding the runway, and he was standing next to a town car, chatting with Bruiser. The Guillots were helping Marcal load their luggage into the trunk. Martin was nowhere to be seen, which made me feel oddly disappointed. When Mark spotted me, he pulled out his badge and waited on the other side of the checkpoint.

“Government business.”
He made himself sound important. It wasn’t often he got to throw around his power just for show. “Miss Parker,” he greeted once I was cleared, taking my bag and studying me from behind his aviator sunglasses, “did you just escape from a motorcycle gang?” He mocked my wraparound sunglasses and leather jacket.

“Not quite.”
I followed him to his SUV. “Did I tell you to pick me up?” It had been a long couple of days.

“You were supposed to.”
He shoved my duffel into the trunk. “Farrell called this morning and knew what time you were getting here. They want you for a debrief immediately, if not sooner.” I sighed loudly and fought against the seatbelt, desperately trying to get the jacket off; it was rubbing my skin raw. “Also, the Director wants to see you.”

“What director?”
Wrestling my jacket off and pulling it free of the seatbelt, I was finally ready to go.

“Our Director.
My boss. Kendall.” He watched my expression out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, that D
irector,” I responded unenthusiastically. The last time I had any interaction with Director Kendall was when I resigned, and he chewed me out.

“I’ve been reading the reports coming out of the Paris Interpol offices.”
Mark waited for a response.

“Good, you’re up to speed.”
Without my jacket on, I was freezing and reached to turn the heat on. He stared at my unbandaged wrists as I adjusted the vents. “Eyes on the road.”

“You’re going to make me ask?”

“No.
I just don’t have much to tell. Everything is in the report. I spent some time hanging around until the Police Nationale got there.” I was stoic about the whole ordeal, and Mark dropped it. We continued on in silence until we got to the freeway.

“Did y
ou get checked out after all that?” He could act very fatherly sometimes.

“Of course.
Medic cleared me. No muscle damage.” I was being very matter-of-fact.

“Last chance for an ER check-up,” he offered as we approached the exit for the hospital.

“I’m good.” I still felt like crap, but I didn’t want to start my morning out by sitting in an ER waiting room for several hours to hear I was fine. I already had to deal with a debriefing and being yelled at by Director Kendall.

We made it to the OIO offices a little before
noon. Mark escorted me to Agent Farrell’s office where I was then ushered into a conference room and forced to give an entire recantation of everything that occurred over the last week. Since it was already on record and properly filed, I had a sneaky suspicion Delacroix pulled some strings just to torment me further. Agent Farrell was kind and thanked me numerous times for all the assistance I provided.