Juan faced the screen again. “What’s the message?”
“ShadowFoe says to meet her on the rooftop of the Radisson Blu Hotel in Nice tomorrow at five p.m. The note said she specifically wants to see Gabriel and Naomi Jackson.”
ShadowFoe must have made the connection between them and the diary. “Did she say why?” Gretchen asked.
“Yes,” Whyvern said. “She wants to give you your money back.”
FORTY-FIVE
NICE, FRANCE
Juan returned to the top-floor room they’d reserved in the Radisson Blu triumphantly holding a hanger encased in a black wardrobe bag.
“We’ve got thirty minutes until the rendezvous,” Gretchen said. “Does that fit?”
“It might be a bit snug,” he said, “but it’ll do.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this? You were dead yesterday.”
“Mostly dead,” he corrected her. “And if you can hobble around on a wounded leg during a firefight in that Maltese wareho
use, then going to a meet and greet on top of this hotel should be a snap.”
“Do you think Rivard will be with them?”
“It’s possible. Even though it would be out of his jurisdiction, having a respected police detective from a neighboring country as an eyewitness might help their plan.”
“I wonder how much he’s getting paid for his services,” Gretchen said.
“It would have to be enough to set him up for life. But now we know why and how Monaco was chosen for the heist. Having someone inside the Sûreté would make covering their tracks that much easier.”
“We need to get proof that he’s involved.”
“First things first. We have a date with ShadowFoe. Supposedly.”
“Then we should get changed,” she said. “Do you mind if I take the bathroom?”
“Be my guest.”
Linc and Eddie returned to the room before she could get started.
“How’d the reconnaissance go?” Juan asked. Since Eddie and Linc hadn’t been seen in Malta, they were the best choices to scout out the location. They were both dressed in shorts and T-shirts, like many of the other tourists strolling on the beachside drive below their window.
“Multiple exits, so a quick getaway should be easy,” Eddie said. “And there’s an apartment building with a great view of the terrace. We didn’t see anyone on the terrace who looked suspicious.”
“Any trouble getting the photos?”
Linc attached the camera he was carrying to a tablet computer. “Nope. Just two guys taking some pictures of the scenery.”
He and Gretchen scanned through the pictures. Golov and Semova were nowhere to be seen. They went through a second time, and Gretchen stopped on a photo that focused on one side of the pool’s deck chairs and zoomed in.
“Well, that’s not who I was expecting to see here,” Juan said. He looked at Gretchen with a raised eyebrow. “I suddenly get the feeling that Chief Inspector Rivard won’t be coming.”
—
Do you think they’ll show up?” O’Connor asked.
The bedroom window of the apartment they’d broken into had a perfect view of the hotel’s pool area, where the meeting was to take place. The late-afternoon sun cast shadows on the rooftop terrace, but it wasn’t anything Sirkal couldn’t compensate for.