Blue Moon #3 (Story of Us Series - Into the Blue) - Sydney Jamesson Page 0,104
with my right hand, feeling the muscles tightening like a noose. “How the hell does someone get involved in something like this?”
“They see only the money, Mr. Stone. Investors become more demanding and ways have to be found to keep them sweet. Even the deal he struck up with the Saudi bank was intended to be part of a money laundering business for terrorist organisations, it would appear.”
“You know what’ll happen once the authorities get hold of this?” I shake my head, disbelieving that anyone could be that corrupt. “They’ll lock him up and throw away the key.”
“Very likely, when I show you what else I have.” He moves the paperwork to one side and takes out another folder. “I’m going to tell you what I think, and let you decide if it’s a reasonable assumption, but you will have to hear me out.”
I stand for this one, and rest both my palms on the table across from him. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“This was the photograph taken on the day of that big announcement I told you about six months ago.” He points to each of the four men in turn. “You’ll recognise your father in the middle. To his right is a member of the board, his name doesn’t matter; to his left is another member of the board. See how they’re all smiling for the camera…?”
I interject, “Not the guy on the far left.”
“Right. This guy isn’t a member of the board, he’s an outsider, but for some reason he’s got caught up in this three-ring circus. He’s not even a businessman—he’s a politician. He’s called Vincent Reynard. When this picture was taken he was the French Chancellor for Foreign Investment, and had been for four years.”
“Okay. So, you think he was in on it. He was being paid to turn a blind eye?”
He shakes his head. “No. Just look at the guy. Does he look happy to you?”
I lift the photograph to take a closer look. “No. He looks as if he’s about to shit himself.”
“Exactly.”
I take a step back. “So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that when he refused to play nice—wouldn’t sign on the dotted line giving their bogus, two billion dollar investment his blessing—they had to do something about it. They needed leverage.”
Totally rapt, I ask, “Leverage? What kind of leverage. I’m not with you?”
Did I miss something?
“That kind.” He places down a photo. It’s of a young girl lying in a shallow grave. Her hands and feet have been bound.
I hold my breath and feel an icy chill descend my spine. “I’ve seen this photo before.”
“Where?”
“It was in the folder that MI5 gave me.” I take a minute to join the dots. “They said the two insurgents looking for Beth were connected to her death—that they’d killed her.” I slam down the picture. “It was this God awful photo that made me agree to go through with the award ceremony. Just the thought of Beth lying there… Well, you know?”
“I do.” He takes the photo and moves it to one side. “Then we have to piece all this together.” Taking a breath, he looks over the sheets of paper scattered on the table. “I have my suspicions, but I wonder if I’ve been at this too long and I’m reading too much into it. I’d like to know what you see, Mr. Stone.”
Mack walks away and pours out a glass of water from the jug by the door. I notice that as I spread out the photos, I’m trembling. I asked Mack to dig, and he’s done a marvellous job—that goes without saying.
But this…?
“Okay. For argument’s sake let’s say that my father put pressure on this guy, Reynard, to give him a free hand; he’ll have promised him a cut but Reynard here’s a good guy, he doesn’t want that. He’s been in office for four years and has his sights on a promotion, a nice pension, a villa in the South of France. He’s a principled man.”
“Yes. That fits his profile.”
“Then comes this…”
“Marie Claire Reynard.” Mack reminds me of her name.
“Yes. Then realising everything he’s worked for could come crashing around his ears, because of this Reynard guy, my father has his daughter kidnapped.”
“Yes.”
“But why kill her? And what the fuck have her killers got to do with me?” I bite my lip in frustration. I need answers.
Mack smiles. “Didn’t you say you’d been investigating your father, putting out feelers, checking out his company?”