The Paris Caper by Nina Bruhns Read Free Book Online Page B

I’d rather
not—”
    Belfort rounded his desk
and sat down with a decisive surge backward in his fancy suede-covered office
chair. “This case could make...or break...a man’s career,” Belfort said,
effectively putting an end to the argument.
    Because Jean-Marc knew
exactly whose career he was talking about.
    Belfort disapproved of
him. He knew that. Because of his background. Jean-Marc had grown up in les
banlieues —the projects—the only French kid in his high-rise tenement,
sucked into the fringes of crime at an early age. He’d only managed to extract
himself from the quicksand of his surroundings because he’d excelled at math at
school and attracted the attention of a nurturing teacher. That teacher had
probably saved his life. Definitely changed it.
    However, his early years
did give him an insider’s perspective on crime and criminals—one reason he now
excelled at his job. Many of his peers frowned on his unorthodox
methods—especially CD Belfort. But you couldn’t argue with numbers, and
Jean-Marc’s closed-case record spoke for itself.
    “A win on this one could
make that mess five years ago go away. Permanently,” Belfort said, giving him a
level look.
    And a loss could make him go away permanently, he thought. Which was what Belfort was hoping for, no
doubt. Record or no, the man did not like him.
    “Get out of here,
Saville,” Belfort told the other commissaire with a dismissive wave. “Go
and show me I made a mistake by relieving you.”
    One of the things
Jean-Marc liked least about Belfort was his tendency to encourage rivalries
between his officers.
    “Am I in charge, or is
he?” Jean-Marc demanded softly. “Because if I am, nobody will do anything on
this case without my say-so. Nothing .”
    Above the hum of the
secretary’s copier, silence hung thickly for a moment between the three of
them. Then Belfort puffed out his cheeks angrily. “ Bon . Wait for his
orders.” He jerked his head at Saville to leave. When he’d gone, Belfort said,
“Better get yourself a plan, Lacroix. Fast. I’m through—”
    “As a matter of fact, I
already have one. Is that all, sir?”
    Belfort’s mouth thinned.
“Yes, that’s all. Don’t screw up, Lacroix. It’s both our heads if you do. But
yours will fall first and farthest.”
    ♥♥♥
     
    On the way back to his
own office, Jean-Marc found Pierre and brought him along.
    “Better sit down, mec ,”
Jean-Marc said, taking a seat and motioning to the visitor’s chair, which
Pierre spun backwards and slid onto. “We are now officially in charge of le
Revenant case.”
    Shock flashed across
Pierre’s face. “ We? You’re joking.”
    “Well, me. But you’re my
second-in-command, so that puts you in the hot seat, too.”
    “ Merde ! How the
hell did that happen?”
    “Belfort’s getting
pressured. He wants a fall-guy for when things go bad.”
    Pierre made a noise of
disgust. “ Poulet .”
    “Yeah, well, I don’t plan
on going down for anyone, so we better get busy.”
    “Any ideas?”
    Jean-Marc leaned back and
swung his feet up onto the edge of his desk. His chair squeaked in protest.
    “Near as I recall, we began getting reports on this guy about two years ago. But he
must have been doing jobs before that, non ? Lesser stuff, maybe, that
the local préfectures would have taken care of. Not big enough to
involve us here at headquarters. Especially when he was just starting out.”
    Pierre nodded. “Right.
But why do we care?” he asked, adding his own feet to the clutter on the desk.
    “The OCBC does good
police work. We use witnesses, forensics, we find patterns, we find outlets,
and all of that leads us to the subject and if we’re lucky we make an arrest.”
    “But...?”
    ‘None of that is working
with le Revenant .”
    “True enough.”
    “Witnesses agree on
nothing, he leaves behind no evidence, the fences are mute, and the only
pattern that has emerged is that there seems to be no pattern to his work.
Other