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“Yes. Tell us what you know about her.”
He was driving with his right hand, the left hand hovering by the edge of the window, two fingers together as if he normally smoked and flicked the ashes out of the crack. “There are many warrants, of course, across several countries. She steals very valuable paintings both from private collections and museums, does not matter which. But she is also known for stealing very valuable jewels, some priceless, like the Koh-i-Noor. We have never managed to track her down, of course, because she is very good.”
Mike said, “You admire her. Why does everyone admire her so much? She’s a common thief.”
Menard shook his head. “Non, she is an uncommon voleuse de bijoux. To be a jewel thief of this magnitude, never identified, hunted for so long, but never caught? The Fox is magnifique. And to think, she is a woman.” He grunted a very French sounding, “Huh.”
“I plan to put the handcuffs on her myself,” Mike said.
Menard mumbled something she thought was “Good luck,” and she shot Nicholas a look. He shrugged and rolled his eyes.
Menard said, “You will see the Koh-i-Noor theft is dominating all the news channels. It is pervasive, even to the villages in the Pyrenees. The FBI is being given big pokes in the eye, yes?”
“Yes,” Mike said. Menard didn’t sound all that upset about it.
“I have even read blogs about the theft, although the idiots writing the blogs are writing fiction, since they could not possibly know exactly what happened. Your British news stations are foaming at the mouth. Ah, it is a terrible thing, is it not?”
Nicholas only nodded. “Has the Fox ever been accused of killing people for money, or does she only steal?”
Menard again flicked his fingers out of habit. “I remember a rumor of an assassination—maybe ten, fifteen years ago—some Italian gun manufacturer near Milan, but there was nothing proven. It remains an unsolved case, and I have not heard of anything since. And now she has stolen the Koh-i-Noor.”
He sounded so intrigued, Mike wanted to punch him.
Menard continued. “The media is also playing up many nefarious plots regarding your British Inspector York’s role in the theft.”
Nicholas’s voice was cold. “The Fox might be involved in her murder.”
“I must say this surprises me. Ah, we arrive.”
Mike could see Lake Geneva ahead, and the huge water plume called the Jet d’Eau. The promenade was lined with people, ignoring the chill, enjoying the show. She got out of the car, checked her weapon on her hip. This wasn’t exactly how she’d always dreamed of visiting Europe.
Despite the shining sun, a cold breeze whistled through the city. Nicholas turned up the collar of his coat and looked at Mike, shivering in her leather jacket.
Menard said, “The wind is brutal today. You should see when the waves form on the lake and the water splashes over onto the streets. We are lucky, this is a warm winter.”
Mike shivered. “You’re saying it could be worse?”
Nicholas laughed. “What, and you a New Yorker? I thought your blood was thicker than this.” But he moved to shelter her from the worst of the wind. “It’s momentary; we’re going to have to cross the street to get into the bank. Yell when you’re ready.”
Menard had already started across. “Nicholas, you speak French, right?” Mike asked.
“Well enough. Geneva is trilingual—French, German, and Italian are all the official language—but everyone speaks English. You won’t have any trouble getting around, I promise.”
“Good. Because I doubt my high school French will do more than get us to the bathroom successfully. I’m ready now. Let’s go.”
They dashed across the Quai des Bergues, the wind cutting at their heels. Once inside the Deutsche Bank, Mike took a second to warm her face with her hands.
They were greeted by the bank manager, a short, rotund man with merry eyes and lovely white teeth.
“Bonsoir, mademoiselle, monsieurs. You are the FBI the Contonal Police told me to expect?” His pleasant manner made her think he’d been told they were coming, and warned to make nice.
“I’m Detective Inspector Drummond, and this is Special Agent Caine.”
“And I am Agent Pierre Menard, with FedPol. We require your assistance.”
“I am Tivoli, and I will do all within my power to help. How may I assist you?”
Nicholas handed Tivoli a picture. “Have you seen this woman? She came to the bank earlier today.”
