and gave her a solid smack on her backside.
“I told you to hurry up,” he snarled.
She gasped when he grabbed her by the back of the neck and propelled her out and onto the bed. She glimpsed the clock. One-twenty-five. Will Jack answer if I call?
Klaus sneered down at her. “Okay, bitch, time to really earn what we paid you.”
It has to be now … or never.
Chapter Two
In Paris, France, it was ten-twenty-five in the morning, nine hours ahead of Vancouver time, when Kerin Bastion ordered a coffee. It was only ten degrees Celsius, but the sun shone in a clear blue sky, giving a feeling of warmth and optimism.
Kerin was particularly optimistic, albeit nervous, as he looked out the café window. He was on the most exciting case of his career in the seven years he had been with the Police nationale, and today would be a pivotal moment in the investigation.
Three months earlier he had been selected to go undercover. The French judiciary had only recently approved the use of an undercover agent, or agent provocateur, as a lawful means to collect evidence.
Unlike North America, where criminals were familiar with undercover tactics, the criminals in France were naive by comparison. The top echelon of the Police nationale hoped to take advantage of the situation.
To impress their political watchdogs, the Police nationale picked an impressive target to illustrate the benefit of such a tool. An international crime ring had operated out of several European countries for years. Its members were known to have committed armed robberies of jewellery stores, armoured trucks, financial institutions, and various other businesses.
The crimes were often investigated as individual cases, and many jurisdictions had not come to realize the big picture. When the police did pick up their scent, the criminals moved elsewhere and were usually forgotten when more active cases surfaced.
Over the years arrests had been made, but only of low-end criminals who had contracted their talents out to the gang. Efforts to find where the stolen goods were going or identify the real bosses had met with little success — until recently.
A year earlier a French informant managed to ally himself with some local criminals associated with the gang. It was this informant who alerted the police that they were dealing with an international crime ring.
The informant said the criminal empire was not large. Perhaps fewer than fifty people, counting the street criminals who worked for the gang in different countries. He said the criminals he met in Paris were controlled by a man by the name of Roche Freulard. He was also told that Roche had a boss whose real identity was unknown to any of the local criminals.
Four months ago the informant was invited to a party and had a chance to meet Roche. What caught the rapt attention of the police was the informant’s telling them that one thug at the party let it slip that the gang was responsible for the high-profile murder of an art collector, and also that some of the stolen paintings were for the personal gallery of Roche’s boss.
A couple of months before that, a respected and well-known art collector in Paris by the name of Philippe Petit had been found bludgeoned to death in his home. Seven of his paintings were stolen, but to date none had been located.
Two days after the party, both the informant and the thug who’d let the information slip were found shot to death in an alley.
That action prompted a premature start to Kerin’s undercover assignment, even though it would be another two months before judicial approval was officially given.
Kerin managed to befriend Roche by passing himself off as a high-class criminal who operated a car-theft ring that moved stolen cars, as well as other merchandise, around the world. When Roche asked what other merchandise, Kerin smiled and twirled a diamond ring around his finger. It was enough to bait the hook.
Roche began to confide in Kerin more and more with the idea of bringing him into the gang as an equal. He spoke of working for someone he referred to as the Ringmaster. Kerin had laughed at the title, but Roche shrugged it off. He said they were like a circus, with multiple troupes playing in different countries and moving frequently. He said the secrecy of their identities helped keep them safe from the police. That and using disposable phones.
“And do you have a title?” Kerin asked.
“Actually, I do,” Roche replied. “I’m known as the juggler, or sometimes the French juggler. I’m responsible for recruiting people to do the dirty work, as well as looking after the distribution of the goods in France. Sometimes I need to store them until it is safe, while other times the situation calls for a speedier distribution.”
“Hence the juggling act,” Kerin said. “Are there many jugglers in your, uh, company?”
“It varies. At the moment, there are five of us, counting my brother.”
“Anton is a juggler?” Kerin was surprised. “You once mentioned he was a cabinetmaker.”
“You’ve got a good memory,” Roche noted. “Yes, it is a recent development that he was brought into the fold.”
“I see.”
“Keep what I told you in confidence,” warned Roche. “The Ringmaster and the jugglers meet once a year to go over what we have done and see what we can do to help each other. That meeting should be happening soon. If you are accepted, you will meet the others then.”
Kerin smiled. That is an opportunity I don’t want to miss.
Despite Roche’s apparent trust, Kerin was still subjected to an electronic search for hidden transmitters once in a while. Roche would apologize each time and say he was simply following procedure. As a result, Kerin never wore a transmitter, but meticulously made notes of all his conversations with Roche immediately afterwards.
Recently Roche had mentioned that the Ringmaster’s birthday was coming up, so Kerin gave him a gold watch to pass along, acting like it was a trivial item. The truth was, the cost of the watch had cut a big hole in the investigative funds allotted.
The watch had a dual purpose. Besides gaining the favour of the Ringmaster, the watchband had a unique pattern of gold and silver. Unique enough, Kerin had convinced his bosses, that the man wearing it might be spotted and thus identified.
Unfortunately subsequent surveillance of Roche did not identify anyone wearing the watch, but today Kerin had a chance to please his disgruntled bosses back at headquarters.
A week ago Roche said he thought he might be garnering police attention. Kerin expressed concern, knowing full well that surveillance teams were targeting Roche. Fortunately it had an unexpected benefit. Roche blamed the police attention on the informant, who had allied himself to the gang and had been murdered prior to Kerin’s arrival. He then asked Kerin if he would be interested in temporarily replacing him as a safety precaution and suggested Kerin might be able to use his own connections to move stolen goods.
Kerin could barely contain the exhilaration he felt. He remained silent.
“I have heard that many stolen cars from Europe or North America end up in Arab countries,” Roche said. “Is that true?”
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