I handed her the phone and said, “Can you hit Redial for me?”
The police officer took it, punched Redial, and gave it back to me.
After two rings, it went to voice mail. “Bree, it’s Alex, call me as soon as you can.” I hung up, feeling breathless and more frightened than I had in a long time. I hit Redial again, but nothing happened. I tried a third time, with the same result.
Knowing I was no use to anyone in this state, I forced myself to breathe deep and slow so I could make a decision based on logic rather than impulse.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Finch asked. “Someone I can call?”
I looked beyond her at the big electronic display showing flight departure and arrival times. A United Airlines flight to Paris was leaving from the international concourse in twenty-seven minutes.
“Dr. Cross?”
I pointed at the board. “Call the gate for the Paris flight. Tell them I have my passport and credit cards and I need any seat on that plane. It’s an emergency.”
Then I turned and took off like my life—and Bree’s—depended on it.
Chapter
39
Paris
Bree was down on her knees behind a small Peugeot with her pistol out. Abelmar’s assistant was forward and to her right, still standing on the sidewalk. Valentina had been frozen in place and screaming since the billionaire’s security chief was shot, but when Bree shouted for her, she finally ducked, ran to Bree, and crouched beside her.
“Luc’s dead. He’s really dead!” the young woman cried.
An automatic weapon opened fire from a rooftop on the opposite side of the street. Bree saw the muzzle flashes and heard the bullets smack the sides of the cars near Abelmar. She jumped up and aimed at where the flashes had come from, shot off two rounds, and ducked back down.
After a moment, Bree rose to peek through the windows of the Peugeot that shielded them. “Call the police, Valentina! I can’t find my phone.”
Valentina was hysterical, screeching with fear. The machine gun opened up again, raking the car Abelmar was crouched behind. The second the shooting stopped, the billionaire started to rise.
“Philippe!” Valentina shouted. “No! Don’t!”
Abelmar took off toward them in a low charge. Bree rose up and fired twice more at the rooftop to cover him but the shots did not stop the automatic weapon from ripping the night in a sustained burst that caught the tycoon, riddled him with bullets, and cut him down. He crashed to the sidewalk.
Valentina ran to her fallen boss.
“Valentina!” Bree shouted. She emptied her pistol at the rooftop. When the action jammed open, she ducked down and sprinted to Valentina, who was draped across Abelmar, weeping and moaning. From one look, Bree could tell that Abelmar was dead.
Bree grabbed his personal assistant by the arm and dragged her away a split second before the machine gun opened fire yet again. Bullets pinged off the cars and chewed up the concrete sidewalk as the long, raking burst swept at them from behind.
Chapter
40
I arrived at the Paris gate a sweaty mess. Officer Finch had alerted the United representative at the counter, who told me they had a seat in business class available. It cost me a small fortune, even with the miles I threw at it from my frequent-flier account, but I was glad I’d done it when I settled into my window seat and got ready for takeoff.
There was a delay in departure due to a sensor malfunctioning, which allowed me to continue to dial Bree’s number in Paris. After three more strikeouts, I called the Washington office of Bluestone Group and got Elena Martin on the phone.
When I told her what had happened on my call with Bree, Martin said she knew nothing about a firefight in Paris but she’d find out immediately and get back to me either by phone before we took off or by text if we’d left the ground. I hung up and confirmed with the flight attendant that the plane had Wi-Fi.
“Something to drink?” he asked.
“How long’s the flight?”
“Eleven and a half hours.”
I told him I’d take a beer, and I started trying Bree again. Nothing. Ten minutes later, the pilot came on and told us the sensor issue had been resolved and we’d been cleared to button up the doors and leave for Paris.
I was about to put my phone on airplane mode until takeoff when it rang. Elena Martin.
“I can confirm a firefight in Paris in the seventeenth arrondissement,” she said. “The entire area has been cordoned off and is under the control of French anti-terror police. As of now, they are not telling us anything more.”