I sat in the back of the French café and waited. Eventually, a woman stepped inside, looked around. When she saw me, she made her way to my table.
I stood up. “Esme?”
“You must be Viktor.”
Once she got settled and ordered a coffee, she broke the ice. “I was very surprised to hear that you were looking for Justine. That is a name I haven’t heard in at least five years.”
“But you remember her.”
“Quite clearly. She and I used to be casual work acquaintances—you know, the odd dinner here and there and drinks after work.”
I cleared my throat. “Would you know where I can connect with her? Or would you be able to pass on a message to her for me?”
Her face fell. “Oh god, you don’t know.”
Something cold slid down my back. “Know what?”
“Justine was killed.”
I sat back as the shock rolled over me. “What happened?”
“She came in one day, and she was beyond excited. Apparently, she was going to Beirut to meet the love of her life. It was a new relationship, but he was talking about marriage. She was in the midst of packing up her life and preparing to start over. She was so happy.”
My stomach grew tight and sour. “Go on.”
“We didn’t think anything of it at first. This was exactly the kind of thing Justine did—she was fearless. No one was surprised when she quit her life without notice so she could start a new adventure with a soldier from another country. We were all a bit jealous, to be honest.”
I swallowed. “And then?”
“And then, three months later, it was on the news that they’d found a body. A female. She’d been dumped in a field not three miles from here after being beaten and strangled. And she was pregnant.”
She had been coming to meet me. My entire body felt cold. “Who did this to her?”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “It was her ex-boyfriend. The DNA tests revealed that whoever had killed her was also the father of her child. They went to question him, but he’d fled the country. They matched the DNA to him, but they never found him.”
“Do you remember his name?”
She sighed. “I know he’s on the most-wanted list in France and now for far worse crimes than her murder. But I can’t remember his name. I do remember he used to be in the military.”
Two days later, back in Vancouver, I was staking out a restaurant with Andrusha. This was the first chance I’d had to talk to him since my return to town.
I handed him the file I had put together on Justine’s case and her suspected killer. For three hundred euros, I had gotten a copy of her autopsy report, and for another two hundred, I also got a copy of the police report.
“What is his name?”
I had read over this file so many times I knew it by heart. “His name is Marco Jardin. He’s thirty-three years old. Was raised in Paris by his mother only, but she died when he was a teenager. He joined the navy and, over the course of three years, rose through the ranks before he made it onto the special forces. He served three tours, mostly as a sniper, and then he was dishonorably discharged, right around the time Justine went missing.”
Andrusha looked at the one outdated photo we had of him. It had been taken over five years ago. “Tell me about Justine.”
“She was a war journalist I’d met in a bar. She was mouthy and fearless and hot in bed. She had just gotten out of a relationship that she described as dull, but she didn’t talk much about him. We spent a month in the same location, and we were inseparable. She went back to France for work and, a couple of weeks later, she calls me crying. She told me she was pregnant, but she was honest with me. She said she didn’t know whose baby it was—but she hoped it was mine.”
“What did you do?”
I remembered her infectious laughter. “I invited her to meet me in Beirut and talk about making a go of it. Marriage was on the table at that point.”
Andrusha gave me a disbelieving look. “Really?”
“I wasn’t unhappy, okay? She might not have been the love of my life, but we could have been happy, I knew that. Marriage would have been easy with her. I waited at that hotel and watched the news for train or flight delays—for anything that might cause a delay. By Sunday night, she hadn’t showed or called, and I figured she had decided against marrying me and perhaps had chosen to go back to her ex-boyfriend.”
“You didn’t go looking?”
“She made her choice, so I wasn’t going to pressure her to do anything else.”
“You weren’t worried she was pregnant with your kid and running off to be with some other guy?”
I thought about my answer. “I was almost one-hundred-percent certain that it wasn’t my kid.”
“What?” I could feel his eyes on me. “Why offer her marriage?”
I shrugged. “I really liked her, and a baby is a baby. It would not be an issue for me if it turned out to be his. I would have been happy to raise it. At the time, having a family seemed very appealing. It seemed like it was meant to be—until it wasn’t. And then I went back to my old life.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I think at the time there was momentary disappointment, but maybe some relief too. I don’t know. I recovered pretty fast after she didn’t show, so I took that as a sign that it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Did you get any details on this Marco?”
“He’s been off official records for the last five years. He’s a suspected gun for hire and is on the international terrorist list in six different countries.”
“He killed her, and then he became a terrorist. Charming guy.”
I didn’t want to think of her death. “All these years, whenever I thought of her, I thought she was happy somewhere with a couple of kids clinging to her legs. It didn’t dawn on me that he had hurt her.”
“How could you have known? But I don’t understand… Why now? It’s been five years. If he blamed you for Justine, you’d think he would have come and found you sooner.”
“Maybe it was just coincidence that we ended up here, but now that we’re face-to-face, he’s holding me responsible.”
“Was the grandfather a deliberate kill? Or just an unlucky shot?”
I looked at him. “There is no way he should have missed his target. That was deliberate.”
Andrusha sat silent, thinking. “It’s like he’s trying to fuck up your personal life.”
“Well, he’s doing a good job.” I was afraid of what else he would do to fuck up my life.
“Now what? Where do we go from here?”
“Now I spend my time tracking him down.”
“Agreed. We can all help with that.” Andrusha looked around the parking lot with interest. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
“What are we doing in the parking lot of a restaurant?”
“We’re having a business meeting.”
“Who are we watching in the restaurant?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You’ve checked your high-powered binoculars three times. Who’s in there?”
“It’s fine. Why can’t I do two things at once?”
“Give me those.” He yanked the binoculars away from me. He focused the lenses on the restaurant. “Are you serious? Is that Blaire?”
“What? No!” I lied.
He looked at me with a half laugh. “Why are you acting like a fucking stalker?”
“I’m not,” I said defensively.
“You’re becoming the creepy ex-military stalker who watches her from afar.”
“There is nothing wrong with checking on her welfare.”
He refused to give me back the binoculars. “Go inside and talk to her.”
“It’ll look weird if I just show up at a restaurant that she’s eating at.”
He blinked. “It doesn’t just look weird—it is weird. But you’re here already, so just go in there and say hi.”
I wanted to talk to her more than anything, but so much held me back. “Pierre is in there. It’s some sort of private function.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Are you worried he might hit you again?”
My face was still healing from the shit-kicking I had let Pierre give me. “Obviously not.”
“Man up, grow some balls and go fight for your girl. You deserve her.” He lifted the binoculars. “She looks fantastic. I bet she smells amazing. Oh, look. Pierre is leaning in for a sniff.”
I got out of my truck. “You’re an asshole.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
I wasn’t even halfway across the parking lot and I was already regretting my decision, but I couldn’t turn around with Andrusha watching my six. So I kept walking.
I stepped inside the restaurant, and the host appeared out of nowhere. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”
“I’m here to see one of your guests.”
“We’d be happy to alert that guest to your presence while you wait in the lobby. Can I grab you a complimentary sparkling water while you wait?”
“No, thanks.”
“That’s fine. Which guest would you like to talk to?”
“Blaire Asterdam.”
He snagged a waiter who was walking by. “Please inform Blaire Asterdam that there is someone waiting in the lobby for her. That’s Pierre Belford’s table.”
The server nodded and disappeared.
A few moments later, Pierre appeared at the door.
“Oh, for Chrissake.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re just a sucker for punishment, aren’t you?”
I was blunt. “I’m here to speak to Blaire, not you.”
He crossed his arms. “No. Fuck no. You’ve done enough.”
“Pierre.” A shaky voice spoke from the foyer door. There stood Blaire’s grandmother. “Would you be a dear and help me down the stairs? I need the powder room.”
Frustration rippled across Pierre’s face before he turned to her with a fake smile. “Why don’t you take the elevator, Nanna?”
She looked around, a bit confused. “Would you please show me where that is?”
He looked toward the host. “Our guest was just leaving.”
The older woman turned toward me and threw me a discreet wink.
No shit.
I waited until Pierre and Blaire’s grandmother had moved around the corner, and then I strode past the host’s desk toward the dining area.
“Sir, you can’t go back there.”
Ignoring his alarmed calls, I walked through the tables, my focus entirely on Blaire. She was sitting at a long table with at least a dozen other people. She was wearing a black dress, and her hair was slicked back with some sort of clasp. Her lipstick was bright red, and she was quietly listening to someone next to her.
I slowed my steps to enjoy watching her.
When she lifted her eyes to my face, her body completely froze. Then, with the grace of a ballerina, she smoothly stood up and moved toward me.
Without speaking to me, she took my hand and led me to a private room off the main dining room and shut the door. Then she dropped my hand and stepped back. We stared at each other. I felt like every time I saw her, she became more elusive and untouchable.
She broke the ice. “How did you know I was here?”
“I went to your grandmother’s house, and they told me that the restaurant had been changed, and they sent me here.” She looked so beautiful I felt almost speechless. “Is it your birthday?”
“It’s my grandfather’s birthday. He had planned the party with Pierre and invited the guests. We decided we would still celebrate him.”
“Oh.” That took the wind out of my sails a bit.
“Are you guys getting back together?” She asked in an unimpressed tone.
Her question made me pause. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Justine?”
Her words felt like cold water and made my head jerk. “How do you know about her?”
She crossed her arms, and her voice got colder. “Andrusha told me.”
That stopped me. “You’ve been talking to Andrusha?”
She was getting worked up. “I came looking for you and found out that you went to Paris in search of someone by the name of Justine!”
I loved her tone, but at the same time I worked to smooth her feathers. “I only went there to find answers.”
“Did you find them?”
I didn’t want to tell her that Justine had been murdered. “In a sense, yes.”
Tears trembled in her eyes. “Do you still love her?”
“No, I don’t. I never did.”
“Did you see her? Did she have answers for you? Is she connected to this sniper?”
“Justine has passed away, but this case is directly connected to her. We think the sniper is her ex-boyfriend.”
I watched as she processed that. “She’s dead?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly she was contrite. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “She was in my life briefly a very long time ago.”
“Her ex-boyfriend is the sniper?”
I gave her a wry smile. “Apparently she had a type.”
She sounded bewildered. “I don’t even know what to say anymore.”
Suddenly I couldn’t stand this separation between us. I wanted more than anything to hold her, but I no longer had that right. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes. I think you deserve better, and I know that I fucked up. If I could do that night over again, I would.”
She stepped closer, interrupting me. “That night wasn’t your fault, Viktor. Please understand that.”
The door of the private room flew open, and Pierre stood there like a disapproving school teacher.
“This is a private conversation,” I told him.
He ignored me. “Blaire, your grandmother is looking for you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“I can wait,” he told her.
“Back off,” I growled.
Pierre didn’t even flinch.
Blaire said, “I’ll be right there. Please, Pierre.”
Pierre turned his hostility toward me before he reluctantly stepped out of the room and shut the door.
“Did you see that?” I asked her in disbelief. “That guy’s not even afraid of me.”
“Why did you let him hit you?”
I didn’t want to answer that. “He’s always by your side.”
“He’s not.”
“He is. Every time I see you now, he’s right there,” I complained.
“Just for family things.”
When I thought of Pierre, I felt nothing but irritation. “You sure about that?”
The door of the private room opened again.
“For the love of God,” I said sharply.
Andrusha stood in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have to go.”
There was something in Andrusha’s expression. “What is it?”
“The sniper is at our property.”
I frowned at him in disbelief. “What?”
“Let’s go.”
I learned down and pressed a hard kiss on Blaire’s surprised mouth. “I’ll be in touch, I promise.”
“Where are you going?” Fear coated her voice.
“To try and finish this.”
Andrusha drove like a bat out of hell while I sat beside him, loading our weapons.
“What happened?”
“Petrov sent me a two-word text that said, he’s here.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you try calling him?”
“Once. No answer.”
When we pulled up to our place of business, it was completely dark. All the yard lights were out.
“What the hell?” Andrusha muttered as he drove madly toward the airplane hangar. The doors were open, and he drove right in and slammed on the brakes.
Immediately, our team surrounded the car and pointed their weapons at us. As soon as they realized we were alone, they disengaged.
Andrusha and I got out, and I handed him his loaded weapons.
Petrov spoke. “Glad to see you guys.”
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
“We were training, and first a single yard light blew out. We thought the bulb had died, but then a second one blew out. And then a third. And then we were running for cover. He hit every light in the yard, and then the power generator. We can’t get to the backup generator. We have three guys pinned down in the obstacle course.”
“Any idea where his nest is?”
“No clue, except he’s somewhere on the hill.”
I turned and headed toward my locker so I could properly gear up.
Andrusha appeared beside me. “What are you going to do?”
“Go out there and look for him.”
“You think that’s wise?”
“You have a better idea?”
“Take two guys with you.”
“They’ll just make me a bigger target. He has to be up on the hill. If you want to help, get the guys to figure out a distraction so I can get outside.”
I put on dark clothes and streaked my face with dark paint. My weapon of choice would be my semiautomatic rifle. Tonight, reloading speed was more important than distance. I put a Glock on my leg for good measure. And packed eight magazines.
Andrusha reappeared. “We’re ready. We’re going to set off some flares in the yard, and some smoke bombs. What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to head across the yard and get to the roof of our office. I think I’ll have the most coverage up there behind the air conditioning ducts. I don’t want him to know I’m up there looking for him.”
“Okay, that’ll work.” He handed me a comms earpiece. “Stay in touch.”
I waited at the side door, and Andrusha spoke in my earpiece. “We’re set to go off in five seconds.”
“Roger.”
I waited until I heard the first crack of the firecracker, and then I sprinted as hard as I could in the shadows toward the office building. I slipped around back and silently climbed up the fire escape. Once I was on the roof, I took cover behind the air ducts. “I’m in place.”
I put on my night vision goggles and systematically started searching the hill. I saw nothing but black shadows, trees, and rocks.
After a few minutes of searching, I spoke to Andrusha. “Any chance you guys can draw fire?”
“Are you serious?”
“It would help.”
“Well, I need to go get the boys from the obstacle course anyway.”
That would definitely draw fire. “What are you going to drive?”
“How bulletproof do you think the Hummer is?”
“Against a sniper? Not particularly.”
“Great. That’s what we’ll use.”
I doubted my decision every second until his voice came back. “We’re all set.”
I only needed one flash of a muzzle, and I could pin down our unfriendly fire and end this game. Unfortunately, that one bullet could cost someone their life. “Can you be careful, asshole?”
I heard the laughter in his voice. “The guys rigged up my side window with a metal plate.”
My muscles relaxed a bit. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Fifteen seconds.”
“Go.”
I counted backwards, watching the hills. I heard the squeal of tires, and then I saw the flash from the hills. The Hummer rolled to a stop, but I didn’t hear anything over the comms. Not a good sign. Cold rage washed over me. I pointed my scope at the hill where the flash had come from and started repeatedly firing in that area. Is Andrusha dead? Why isn’t Andrusha speaking? I just kept shooting and reloading. Anything moving should have been mowed down by my hail of bullets. After a minute of relentlessly shooting, I stopped and listened. Nothing but the echoes of my last shots rang around me.
And then Andrusha’s voice came over the comms. “Fucker won’t die, hey?”
All the air went out of my lungs. “Just making sure.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Back the Hummer into the hangar. I’m heading up the hill to make sure he’s gone.”
Andrusha argued, “You cover me instead. I’ll head up with two guys.”
That made the most sense, but I hated sending those guys up into the dark.
It was a tense hour in the dark while I scoured the hillside and my team slowly made their way up the hill. I guarded over them with my rifle, aware that one lax moment could cost someone their life.
Finally, one of the guys stood, holding something up. “Found his nest.”
Another one of the guys said, “Looks like he went up this way, to the top of the hill. He’s bleeding, but not enough to die. I would say he’s gone for the night.”
“Take photos, and then bag everything and bring it down. I want to study this guy.”
An hour later, I found Andrusha in his office, holding his phone.
“You got a minute?”
“Just got off the phone with our insurance. They need to send out an adjuster before we can make repairs.”
“How many guys, including you and me, were here tonight?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Sixteen souls.”
I tossed the bag of empty casings on his desk. “He left sixteen casings behind. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”
Andrusha gave me a dark look but didn’t speak. “What else?”
“We also found this.” I handed him the crumpled pamphlet from Edward Asterdam’s funeral. He had used something sharp to scratch out the eyes of Edward’s face.
“Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Andrusha tossed it aside. “Fuck, this asshole is really starting to get on my nerves.”
“We need to figure out how to get ahead of this guy, or this will go badly for us.”
“Agreed.”
