Chapter 11 #3
They returned to the casino to meet with Fournier. They encountered him on the gaming floor.
“Come with me,” he said and led the way to his office.
Brodie exchanged a look with Alex.
The young man slipped his hand into his pocket and nodded.
“What were you able to learn?” Brodie demanded once they reached the privacy of Fournier’s office.
“My people tell me that the man you are looking for is German. He arranges financial transactions for people outside the usual places. He goes by the name of Heinrich.
“He is known among those in certain places who need money and those who have money. He puts them together for a fee.”
The question now was, who was the passenger Caspian was to take on board the Celeste Marie? And what financial arrangement had been made?
“The man is very ‘discrète.’ And most dangerous. That is all I know.”
Or perhaps all that he was willing to share, even for twenty-five thousand pounds. It was possible that a man who owned a casino had used a financial arrangement like the one Heinrich facilitated in the past. But it was clear Fournier would reveal nothing more.
“What is to be done now?” Alex asked as they left.
“I’m going to contact someone who may be able to tell me more about Heinrich. You will return to London on the next crossing. Tell Sir Ridley what we’ve learned. The Celeste Marie is the key to this. She’s not to leave port.”
Alex nodded. “And if they have new information? How do I reach you?”
“Leave word with the innkeeper.”
“And Lady Forsythe? What am I to tell her if she should inquire about when you will return?”
Brodie shook his head. “You will tell her nothing. The less she knows, the better. I dinna want her involved. It’s too dangerous.”
He and Alex parted at the port station for the next crossing to Dover. Then he made his way to the Bureaux de Poste at the Port Authority building.
Brodie didn’t trust the telephone. There were too many people involved in the making of a call, and with something this dangerous he needed to make certain it wasn’t intercepted by someone who knew Heinrich.
He chose instead to send a telegram. A cryptic communication using a number code to another person known only by a number.
The telegraph office was open well into the evening to accommodate travelers who arrived on a late crossing and the Port Authority. He removed a telegraph form from the tablet at the counter.
The Home Secretary had provided the means to contact the man in Paris if the need should arise.
He was taking a risk, but there was no other choice. He wrote a simple message:
To: Hotel Le Meurice, Rue de Rivoli, Paris
Room 224
Need to meet.
Mr. Smith
Smith, the name he’d been assigned to prevent anyone knowing who he was should he need to contact Paris or Sir Ridley. That need was now with too many pieces of this still unknown and time running out before the 18th of October.
He handed the message across the counter to clerk. The man read the telegram and looked up at him.
“This must be sent straight away.” Brodie paid for the telegram. “I will wait for a response.”
“It may not come in tonight depending on when it is delivered,” the clerk replied in perfect English.
Brodie nodded and waited.
Little more than a half hour later, the clerk returned.
“I have never known a return message to arrive so quickly, Mr. Smith.”
Brodie ignored the man’s obvious curiosity as he read the telegram. The message appeared innocent enough and revealed nothing unusual, a place and time to meet:
To: Mr. Smith, Port of Calais
The Venus de Milo. Musee des Antiques, the Louvre.
4:00 o’clock, 17 October
The Louvre Museum, at the statue of the Venus de Milo. Mikaela would have thought it most amusing for someone who had never been inside a museum.
Brodie tucked the telegram into his coat pocket and left the telegraph office.
He returned to the inn, took supper in the main room of the tavern, then asked for a different room than the one he and Alex had occupied the night before, with that same instinct that had saved him in the past. A simple measure should Guillard be tempted to make a bit of profit from their inquiries.
Not that he didn’t trust the man...
Who was Heinrich? he thought as he placed the revolver on the bed beside him after he took a room. What was his part in the reason Caspian had made that trip to London? Something worth the risk? What was the question.
Who was Caspian to meet there? And what now that he was dead...?
There was only one more day before the 18th, still too many unanswered questions, and time was running out.
He slept little, waking frequently to a sound from the hallway as guests moved about, his hand going to the revolver then slowly relaxing as the sound subsided. He rose before daybreak and took coffee at sunrise.
He had already paid for the room. Then stepped out and returned to the telegraph office, should there be any other messages.
There were none. He found a driver and made the ride to the rail station, an uneasy feeling tight in his stomach.
Had Ridley’s man in Paris been able to learn anything more about Heinrich?