in the area. Why do you ask?”
More silence: “I don’t understand. You’re in Paris. Why would you be needing security in Mexico?”
Herman listened. Adin waited. “You sure you want to do that? Why don’t you just call Thorpe and tell him? …
“What do you mean, he hasn’t followed up?”
I was wearing a headset with a mic, using Skype to talk to Herman through Joselyn’s laptop while she and Harry used the landline in the room to book our flight and get a taxi.
I had to be careful what I said to Herman. I knew that the front desk at the condo would be listening. While I wanted the message to get to Thorpe, I didn’t want it to get there too quickly. If it did, Thorpe would put us on the no-fly list immediately and we would never get out of Paris.
“How are you doing? How are you healing up?” I ask him.
“Me. I’m fine,” he says. “Fit as a fiddle. I’m back on my feet. Why don’t I just meet you in Mexico?…”
“No!” With Herman you never know whether he’s telling the truth or just being stoic. I wouldn’t put it past him to jump on a plane tomorrow. “You just get better. Take care of yourself. We’ll be fine. Listen, I can’t talk long. I’ll call you again later. What time is it there?”
It took a second for Herman to check. “Twelve minutes after eleven.”
“Do you have something to write with?” I ask.
“Gimme a sec.”
I wait.
“Got it,” says Herman.
“Wait until noon tomorrow. Then I want you to call Thorpe’s office. Make sure you get through to him. Tell him to call the Paris police and ask about the package in the blue tarp that was left in the alley behind the Hotel Saint-Jacques early this morning. You got it?”
“Slow down,” says Herman. “I don’t take shorthand. Saint-Jacques. Blue tarp.”
“That’s right, blue tarp. The French police will know what he’s talking about. Tell him that the package was done by Liquida. We don’t know who it is, but I’m sure Thorpe will find out. Tell him Liquida is no longer in Paris. You got that? Tell him to check the area around Coba. I don’t know exactly where, but he can look for a large antenna array…”
“Slow down. Large antenna array…”
I am trying to keep the information cryptic so that Thorpe will not land on us too quickly, either before we can get out of France or before we land in Mexico.
“That’s what I said. There should be a large building there as well. In the jungle. I don’t know exactly where. We’re guessing that that’s where Liquida is headed. And tell him we found some strange-looking software inside the package.”
“What do mean? What kind of software? What’s it for?”
“We don’t know. But maybe Thorpe will. Tell him the French police don’t have it, we do.”
“OK, police don’t have it. You do. You didn’t talk to the police?”
“No. We didn’t want to stick around. Oh, and Herman, listen. Tell Sarah not to worry. Tell her I’m getting closer to home. You can tell her about Coba, but not too much. You know the area, give her some details, but tell her not to worry. I’ll be back there as soon as I can.”
“Got it. Where can I catch you, assuming I get ahold of some people to set up security down there?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try and call you from Mexico when we get there.”
“OK.”
“Catch you later.” I tap the red button with the computer’s cursor and the Skype screen closes.
Chapter Forty-Four
This morning Thorpe was in and out of his office like a jack-in-the-box. His ear to the phone, hand over the mouthpiece, Thorpe was talking to his secretary who was standing in the office doorway. “Get ahold of somebody in authority in the Paris Police Prefecture. Check our computer contacts. We must have a name and phone number for somebody somewhere.”
The secretary looked at her watch. “It would be early evening over there.”
“I don’t care. Get ’em at home. Get ’em out of bed. Tell them it’s urgent. I need to talk to someone in the prefecture immediately.”
The secretary turned and headed for her desk.
Thorpe went back to the phone. “Where did he go?… What do you mean, you don’t know? He called you, didn’t he?… When did he call, what time?… Well, damn it, why didn’t you call me last night?… I don’t care. You could have called down to the duty desk. They would have called me at home. What else did he say?” Thorpe listened as Herman conveyed the message given to him by Madriani the previous evening.
Everything was coming to a head at once. Earlier that morning, information from immigration in the United Arab Emirates had finally come back showing that the Spanish passport with Liquida’s picture on it had moved on to Thailand.
Thorpe immediately called Bangkok to have his people check and see when it arrived, whether the passport was still in the country and if not, where it had gone from there. Deep down, Thorpe already knew the answer. His worst fears were being realized. The information from Madriani was correct.
Thorpe’s people were already preparing a warrant for Liquida’s arrest in Paris when Madriani’s investigator called to tell him about the dead body in the alley behind the hotel. It was too late. If bodies were popping up, Thorpe knew that Liquida would already be gone from the hotel. His only hope now was to stop him from getting out of France.
“What do you mean, software? What kind of software?… You mean he found it with the body? What was he doing messing with the body? Listen, never mind! If he calls again, you find out where he is and tell him to stay there. Do you understand? And call me.” Thorpe hung up. “Susan!”
Two seconds later his secretary was back in the doorway.
“Find out who was on the desk last night at the safe house, Madriani’s condo. Tell them I want the telephone records for last night, all the audio recordings from Madriani’s phone. Tell them to transmit them over here immediately.” When Thorpe looked up, Bill Britain was standing in the doorway right behind the secretary. “What is it?”
“More bad news, I’m afraid.”
“That’s all, Susan.” Thorpe motioned Britain into his office and told him to close the door.
The second Britain got the door closed he started talking: “Our embassy people in Paris just called from the hotel…” He looked at his notes. “Saint-Jacques, I think it is. When they showed the people on the desk the poster with Liquida’s picture, they recognized him. Said he was a guest but that he checked out very early that morning. According to them, it was about forty minutes before they heard all the sirens behind the building in the alley where the body was found.”
“Did they have a passport with a name?” said Thorpe.
“Again, another Spanish passport, only this time the name was Jorge Menold.”
“They know he can move around on those things,” said Thorpe. This was because there was no visa requirement for Western Europe, the Americas, much of Asia, or the Middle East. For Liquida’s purposes, a Spanish passport was almost as good as one from the United States.
“French authorities have already put out the name to have him picked up if he shows at any of the airports under that name,” said Britain. “But so far nothing.”
“He’s not that stupid. By now he’ll have a stack of passports like a deck of playing cards, dealing off the bottom as he moves,” said Thorpe.
“And there’s more,” said Britain. “The body in the alley…”
“Yes?”
“It’s one of our two guys from NASA.”
