The Red Syndrome (33 page)

With a funny look, he handed me a helmet. "You must put this on."

"Right, quick," I said, "I can't lose her."

I mounted the backseat and soon we were behind the taxi. "Not too
close," I said. "She shouldn't see me."

He said something but I couldn't understand. The combination of the
wind, the noisy street traffic, and our helmets made it impossible to communicate from front to back. The taxi passed by the Promenade Hotel,
which had a semicircular driveway allowing cars and taxis to stop and
then drive off again. But Laura's taxi didn't stop to let her off. Laura
looked back through the cab's rear window once or twice, but with the
darkness of the night and the helmet on my head, I was sure that even
my own mother wouldn't have recognized me.

Finally the cab pulled over next to a hotel building and Laura, looking
around, entered the vestibule of its street-level restaurant. I got off and
gave my driver a hundred-euro bill; he buzzed away. I waited in the distance behind a parked truck to see what Laura was up to.

A tall blond man approached her from inside the restaurant, and they
kissed. Not a friendly peck on the check, either; this was a long, intimate
kiss. Was that a pang I felt? I should have been well beyond that by now.
I cursed myself for not carrying a camera or any listening device. They
went into the restaurant and sat near the window. From a distance I could
see that Laura was sipping a drink. Obviously she wouldn't eat two dinners on the same evening. The blond man listened intently while Laura
talked. I saw her take and hold his hand. I had to quickly decide what to
do next. I needed to speak to Eric, but I had left my cell phone behind
and there was no pay phone in sight. I couldn't leave my observation
point and risk being detected - or, even worse, lose sight of them. For
one thing, I didn't know whether Laura was also being monitored by
others who were unknown to me. They could be allies, but just as likely
they could belong to the opposition. On second thought I realized I could
be facing two different sets of bad guys: Zhukov's gang and the Slaves of
Allah. If either saw me observing her, things could get more complicated.

I decided to take a risk. I went to the hotel's main entrance and entered
the restaurant through the door connecting it to the hotel. I waited in a
dark corner near the side entrance watching Laura and her beau from a
distance. Finally, he asked for the bill. I saw him put his credit card on
the small plate that came with the bill. That was my opportunity. I
approached the hostess with a proposition she could not refuse: a hundred-euro bill in exchange for the chance to copy the name and number
on the credit card. "I don't need the card's expiration date or other codes,"
I said, assuring her I was not an identity thief. "It's a family thing. We
want to know who our sister is dating. We've had some bad experiences
lately." I put on a sorrowful expression. Now I could not let two people
out of my sight; Laura and the hostess. There was not much time, I had
to move quickly, and also make sure the waitress wouldn't report me to
security. That, and the money, must have persuaded her. In two minutes I had the name of Laura's friend - Robert Meadway - and his credit
card number. As a bonus she also wrote out the name of the card's issuer:
Citibank.

Ten minutes later Laura and the man left the restaurant. They hailed a
cab, got in. I quickly went out through the same door and stopped
another taxi. The ride took ten minutes, and they didn't seem to notice
me because their taxi took no evasive maneuvers. Their taxi stopped next
to the Promenade Hotel, where Laura got out. "Keep following that cab,"
I told my driver.

After a few turns into side streets, the other taxi stopped next to Hotel
du Parc and Robert Meadway got out. "Wait," I told my cabbie as I
handed him the fare. "Please wait for me here. I'll be just a moment."
Meadway paid his driver and went inside; I followed. I saw him passing
through reception, with the receptionist nodding toward him, and
entering the guest elevator.

Obviously I'd followed him as far as I could, so I called Lan in New
York from a pay phone. "I need a background on Robert Meadway, male
Caucasian, age approximately forty, about six feet tall, medium build. See
what you can find."

I went back to my hotel. An hour later my cell phone rang. It was Lan.
"I found six men who match the description, but if your estimate of his
age is right, really only two."

"Do you have photos?"

"Yes."

"Look for a blond good-looking guy."

"Usually I like them dark," said Lan jokingly, surprising me with an
unexpected glimpse into her personal life. All she'd told before was that
she'd fled Vietnam and been widowed in the United States. "Three are in
their fifties or sixties. Another one is in his early twenties. The two men
around forty are both blond and could be described as good looking."

"Okay. Please run a background check on both. I have his Citibank
credit card details, if that helps. I need personal history, criminal record,
arrest history, names of family members, friends, associates, business affiliations, residence history, you know the drill. Then run a cross-check for both men with the name Laura Higgins, and see what the database
brings up. Please transfer the data with the color photos to my care at the
Marseilles consulate."

"Why can't you just download it to your computer, once I tell you it's
available?"

"The hotel's Internet connection is on dial-up, not broadband - it'll
take forever. So for that and other reasons, I'd rather you send it to the
consulate."

"Will do," she said.

I woke up the next morning with a headache. Add to my troubles the fact
that it was raining - and that I had no idea anymore who Laura was or
what she was up to - and I had one pissed-off attitude. Just then a text
message came to my cell phone: There was information waiting for me at
the consulate. I looked at my watch. It was 9:15 A.M. Lan had been as efficient as always. I went to the consulate and sat there to read the material.
I examined the first batch: no resemblance. I gave a glance to the second
photo. Shit. Neither man was the guy I'd seen last night with Laura.

I called Eric on his secure line at the clinic. This time he answered after
one ring. I intended to give him a report on the developments, but he
stopped me. "Dan, I can't talk right now. Just tell me if the hundred thousand dollars was delivered, or if you've heard anything from them. With
respect to the rest, I'll talk to you later."

"No," I said. "No contact and no money." He was about to hang up
when I stopped him. "I need to ask you. Is this operation double-tiered?"

"Why?" asked Eric.

"I need to know if anyone is watching me on your behalf."

"Dan, forget the conspiracy theories. In this operation what you see is
what you get."

"So there's no one else on this here?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"I just want to make sure first before I jump to conclusions." I still
didn't think I should trash Laura with management until I was convinced
that what she was doing went beyond bizarre behavior.

I decided it was time to confront Laura; enough with the games and
the uncertainty. I reached her in her hotel room: "I just called to see how
you were. Are you already as beautiful as ever?"

"Yes, thanks, and much more relaxed, thank you for understanding.
How's your day?"

"All went well, and I'm done. Listen, care to have an early drink? I
could use a friendly face after today's meetings. I also want to show you
something." I tried to sound promising.

She hesitated. "In fact, there's a seat on the flight out tonight and I think
I'll take it, so I need time to pack, but I guess I can squeeze in a drink."

"Meet me in my room," I said. I told her the number, not letting on
that I knew she already had it. Twenty minutes later there was a knock
on the door. Laura entered, dressed in blue jeans and a black tee.

"Thanks for coming," I said, pecked her on her cheek. She sat on a
chair, while I sat across from her on the bed. If she'd spent any time with
a beautician, I couldn't see a trace of it.

"Laura, I need to ask you a few questions that have been bothering me."

"And what are they?" She was amused and self-confident. She clearly
thought that I'd called her to the room to talk about our relationship.

"Have you been snooping on me?" I dropped the bomb when she least
expected it.

She seemed to go pale, but I could have been imagining it. "Snoop? You
call asking you some questions on our case that you've refused to answer
snooping? Dan, really!" Her surprise and protest sounded faked.

"I don't mean only that."

"What else?" Suddenly, there was a hard edge to her voice.

"I mean going through my things?"

"Your things? Now, why would I do that?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"Dan, I didn't come here to be interrogated over some baseless accusations. I'm going to leave now." She got up and walked to the door.

"Laura, I promised to show you something. Here it is."

I pulled out the handheld video monitor and turned it on. "Ever seen
yourself on video?" I turned the monitor toward her.

Laura's face completely lost its color when she saw herself entering my
room and going through my things. She sat down on her chair again.

"Baseless accusations?"

"Dan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." I could almost watch the
wheels turning as she struggled to come up with a story.

I've seen people try to lie to me many times during my career. I know
what people do when they're caught like this and try to wriggle out of it.
Almost always, they will lie even more. Breaking down and confessing,
especially on the first go-round, happens only in the movies. I wasn't
expecting a candid confession here.

"I became suspicious when you avoided me," she finally said. "I came
here for you, I fantasized how we'd make love. So I suspected another
woman. I'm sorry, but I like you a lot and I was jealous." She came closer
to me, threw the monitor on the bed, and touched me slowly. "Can you
blame me for that?"

"Laura, please stop that," I said, although I have to admit I was tempted
when I smelled her perfume and sensed her body heat. "How did you
know what room I've been staying in?"

"I didn't know."

"Laura you took a key to my room from the reception desk and let
yourself in!"

"So if you know, why are you asking?" She sounded as if she'd burst in
tears. But she didn't.

"I need to know because what you did is serious. I'm not here as a
tourist, I'm on U.S. government assignment. So anything out of the ordinary that happens here must be reported. And I can do it with or without
your reasonable explanation."

"I've already explained why I did what I did. I can't understand why
you're holding against me the fact that I'm attracted to you."

"Laura, cut the bull. Look at the monitor. Were you looking for another
woman inside the FedEx envelope, or inside the file folder? Look at yourself going through my personal things; what did you expect to find
there?"

She sat on the bed, her eyes tearing. "Dan, please don't report this. I worked so hard to get my job. I'm supporting myself and my ailing
mother. I know I made a mistake, but that's only because I wanted you so
much."

"Sorry, Laura, it's not enough. Either you tell me the whole story, or I'll
report what I know; and the interrogators in the U.S. are a lot tougher
than I am."

"Have you discussed this with anyone else?" Although the question
was asked in a quiet, almost timid tone, I knew that behind it was a cold
calculation.

"Laura, I'm asking the questions here."

She turned around and before I could do or say anything I was looking
at the barrel of a .38. I was stunned for a moment. I was prepared for more
tears, but not for a gun.

"Dan, don't be stupid, let me have the monitor."

"Sure, take it," I said. I could tell she was surprised by my nonchalance.
She turned to the bed to pick up the monitor. The minute her back was
turned, I jumped on her and wrestled her to the bed. It was a scenario
that I would have welcomed even a few days ago, but not this way, under
these circumstances. She fought hard, scratching my face and once
kicking my groin. Still, I got the gun from her hand and threw her to the
floor. I put the gun under my belt.

"That was a stupid thing to do," I said.

She started crying.

"Tell me the truth: What are you up to and why are you doing it?"

"I told you already," she said, breathing heavily, "I was jealous, and
wanted to make sure there was no another woman."

"Laura, for the last time: Who do you work for?"

"No one, I keep telling you. Just the U.S. government."

"Is this a side job you're doing for Eric Henderson or Bob Hodson?" I
threw in the bait.

Her eyes lit up. I'd offered her a way out, and she took it. "Yes. I guess
there's no point in hiding it any longer. They asked me to snoop on you,
but please don't tell them that I revealed that. Please." Even Hollywood
would reject such a bad actress, good looks notwithstanding.

"But how is it that they asked you to snoop on me, when I was the one
who invited you over? Were you thinking of spying on me long-distance?"

"No. I was about to come anyway, but then you called and made it easy."

This performance was so bad, I almost felt sorry for the woman. Still,
I tactically decided to let her know that maybe I could believe her, if she
convinced me. "So when were you lying to me? When you told me about
being jealous, or now when you told me about Eric and Bob Hodson?"

"Both reasons for coming are true, I swear. Why do you blame me for
falling for you?"

"So I'm the only one for you?"

She nodded, wiping her tears.