on the minister of the interior. “You travel with security. When was the last time your men carried silenced weapons?”
Blot let out a heavy sigh. “These are all interesting points and I’m sure they’ll be sorted out by someone, but it won’t be you, Commandant Neville. We are removing you from the investigation. Prefect Mutz will be reassigning you this morning. If you handle this with grace, I can promise you that none of this will go on your record and there will be no formal investigation. Your career will continue to progress based on the merits of your work.”
Neville was speechless for a long moment, and then Prefect Mutz spoke up. “Francine, this is for the best. I’ll give you an extra week. Take the kids and go visit your parents. When you come back all of this will be over.”
Two things were ringing in her mind. The first was that it wouldn’t be over in a week and the second was that Fournier must be really nervous to pull a move like this. That knowledge gave her the strength to speak to her bosses in a way she would never have dreamed of before today. “So this is how we do things now. A sneaky little agency like the DGSE, which has no business doing anything inside the borders of this country, can pull in some favors with well-connected politicians, make some wild, completely unfounded accusations, and the mighty National Police of France surrender.”
Prefect Mutz gave her a stern look. “Francine, you’re out of line.”
“No, she isn’t,” Director General Gisquet growled. “This entire thing stinks. Paul Fournier is a snake and he’s playing us. I don’t like it one bit . . . but . . .”
“But what?” Neville asked, hoping that there was still a chance.
Gisquet looked her in eye and said, “For the moment, we have to play this game, but I promise you, Francine, this is not going to hurt you. We need to follow through with this request because it came from some very serious people and then in a few weeks when things cool down, we will take a good look at the facts.”
“In a few weeks,” Neville said, her impatience showing through. “You mean after Fournier and his goons have destroyed all the evidence and eliminated any witnesses who could help us solve the case.”
“I’m sorry, Francine, but it’s the best we can do right now.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Neville looked at each of her bosses, stopping with Minister of the Interior Blot. “I’m sorry that you men don’t have the balls to stand up against an agency that has no jurisdiction in Paris. Why bother with laws? I’m sure the people of Paris will appreciate the fact that their police department is afraid of an asshole like Paul Fournier.” Neville turned and started for the door. At the last second she turned and said, “Are the two of you aware that two DGSE agents were shot last night? One of them is dead. The other one is in the hospital, but Mr. Fournier will not allow the police to question him.” She could tell by the startled look on their faces that this was the first they’d heard of this. “Over sixty shots were fired. In addition to the DGSE agents we have an unidentified American with a Rangers tattoo. The media are going to be all over this and I sure hope for your sake they don’t find out that you were complicit in covering up whatever the hell it is that Paul Fournier is up to.”
Simon couldn’t follow her out the door fast enough. Halfway down the first flight of stairs he said, “Well, I’m glad I came along for that. I think it’s really going to help my career. Thank you for bringing me with you.”
“Sorry,” Neville tried to say with some sincerity despite the anger that was flowing through her veins.
Simon followed in silence for a while and then said, “You know, they might be doing you a favor . . . if what you said up there is true.”
“How so?”
“They just removed you from the front lines of a battle that looks like it’s going to end badly. The press will devour anyone involved in this.”
“The press?”
“Yes, the people who write for newspapers and magazines. They do news shows on this thing called television. As a group they’re often referred to as the press.”
Neville was so used to his smartass personality that she ignored him. “The press conference.” She checked her watch. “It’s supposed to start in twenty minutes.”
“I think it’s probably going to be canceled.”
“Maybe.” Neville stopped at their floor and looked down the stairwell. “I bet they’re all gathered right now. Waiting for it to start.”
“I’m sure Mutz is going to have it canceled, or your replacement will get up and read a brief statement.”
“What about me?”
“They’ll probably say you had to take a leave of absence. Your cramps are really bad this month. You know, something nice and misogynistic.”
“Stop being such a smartass for a second. I think I should make a statement.”
“I don’t think you could come up with a worse idea.”
“It’s the perfect idea.” Neville turned for her office. “I need to gather my stuff.”
“I think you should, because they’ll probably fire you and throw you out of the building.”
“They can’t fire me for telling the truth, Martin.”
“Sure they can. People do it all the time. Especially the police.”
Neville had her mind made up. She grabbed her jacket and purse and on the way out closed and locked her office door. “You can come along if you want,” she told Simon, “but I won’t blame you if you stay up here and hide under your desk.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. The opportunity to see one of the brightest minds in law enforcement destroy her career in front of an entire nation. It’ll be pure Schadenfreude.”
CHAPTER 39
RAPP’S feet glided along the pavement, beating out a steady five-and-a-half-minute-a- mile-pace. His shoulder throbbed, but he did his best to ignore it, and when he couldn’t ignore it he told himself he deserved worse. A man was dead. Luke Auclair, an innocent man who had been minding his own business, living his
