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His eyes flickered. So this was the lie. He said slowly, unwillingly, “Perhaps I have heard of a man she knows.”
“Go on.”
“He is, how do you say it in English, un fantôme, oui?”
A ghost. Nicholas felt his heart speed up.
“A ghost?” Mike asked. “You mean the man is dead?”
Henri lit a new cigarette from the smoking ember of the old one. He nodded. “Yes, a ghost. But he is not dead.”
“You have to give us a bit more to go on, mate.”
“I cannot give what I do not have.”
“What’s his name?”
Silence.
Yes, Couverel was afraid of this so-called ghost. Who was he?
“Where did she meet him?’
Silence.
Mike said, “Come on, Henri. Help us out.”
“Un fantôme. You look, and you will see.”
“Tell us more about the people who adopted Victoire.”
Couveral didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t meet their eyes.
76
Couverel looked caught between the Devil and a hard place. Nicholas paused at the door, waited for a moment, and, sure enough, Couverel leaped up from his chair but he said nothing.
Nicholas waited, then stood up. “Say good-bye to Clairvaux, Henri.” He turned to Mike. “Let’s go.”
“The family who took Victoire, the man was some kind of missionary. He traveled, to foreign countries. I remember because they asked what sort of shots Victoire had.” He snapped his fingers in disgust. “As if she were a dog they had rescued from the gutter.”
Nicholas had seen Victoria snap her fingers in that same dismissive way in New York, at the Met, while they were still on the same team. Was it simple genetics, or had Henri seen Victoria more recently than he claimed?
Nicholas doubted it, because Couverel wanted Clairvaux more than he was afraid of the ghost. Nicholas rubbed his hand across his chin. He hadn’t had a chance to shave, and the stubble was thick. “Shots. A missionary. Were they taking her back to England, or somewhere else?”
“I do not know. And I swear to you, I know nothing more. Clairvaux—will I go there?”
Nicholas said, “Yes, you will go to Clairvaux.”
Nicholas went to the door and pressed the buzzer. Moments later, Madame Badour appeared, and they stepped from the room. She shuttled them through the first two gates before saying, “It sounds as if you had success.”
Nicholas nodded. “Expect the request to come for his transfer to Clairvaux, but don’t release him to their custody until I give you the go-ahead. I need to make sure the information he gave us was the truth.”
The woman spoke without irony. “You may count on me to do my duty, Monsieur Drummond.”
They wound out of the prison’s heart, through the clanging gates, and she bid them adieu at the cement bench she’d collected them from two hours earlier.
Mike couldn’t get out of the prison fast enough, and she could tell Nicholas was anxious to be gone and follow the lead, too. It wouldn’t take long to verify the information regarding Victoria’s adoption; it would be in the state records. The ghost. Fantôme.
