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“Once we knew where to look, we found evidence that Arslan knew about your trip to Paris for awards dinner.”
“How?”
“There was an article inLe Mondeabout the event and they mentioned you as accompanying Dr. Taylor. We found a message from his brother Emre telling him about it.”
My head feels ready to explode thinking about Yavuz and his scheme. And how imbecilic I’ve been. “How much longer?” I ask.
Poulliot looks at the screen. “Not long now. They are in the Vielle-Village and it looks like they’ve stopped at the chateau. The team has taken up positions near the cemetary with sharpshooters in the church tower.” He makes a clicking sound. “There is a wire in the glove box. Put it on, please. If you can get him to talk, we may have some evidence to help the case.”
I slip on the wire and put the recorder, which already has tape attached, under my shirt.
Ten minutes later, we’re parked in front of the chateau. Clouds cover the full moon so only our headlights illuminate the scene. Poulliot indicates that I should get out of the car. Almost immediately a familiar voice calls out my name.
“Max. Welcome. I hoped you would join us.”
“Where are you, Yavuz? Is Cress all right?”
“Of course, Max.” His voice is silky with satisfaction. “We are taking very good care of her.” Then his tone hardens. “Tell your friends to be on their way. You won’t need a ride home.”
“Send Cress over, and she can leave with them.”
He laughs so long I think he will never stop. Eventually the sound dies away. “I don’t think so. She is my ace in the hole. Once we have you, we’ll let her go and she can walk into the village. There is a train there to take her back to Paris.”
Cress screams out, “Run, Max! Get away or they’ll kill you!”
A slap sounds in the crisp air. They must be close. “Of course we will kill him. If he runs, I will shoot him right now, and then shoot you too.”
Cress lets out a moan and I start to move forward.
“Max,” Yavuz says sharply, “first empty your pockets.”
I pull out my wallet, phone, and a small handgun and put them on the ground.
“Now take off your jacket.”
That goes into the pile.
And now the clouds disappear and the moon rises high into the sky, lighting us as if in a play.
Yavuz, his arms folded across his chest, still as a statue leans against a cream-colored late-model sedan. I squeeze my eyes closed for a second, then search for Cress’ familiar figure. Emre and Tanik are on either side, guns at the ready.
“I’m sorry for the setting. I would have preferred the alley in Istanbul where my sister died. I always planned to get you back there, but I can’t go back there now, so this will have to do.”
My instinct is to charge Yavuz. Resisting the urge to pull out the gun strapped to my ankle, I keep my hands visible, fists clenched, nails digging into my palms and play dumb. “Bloody hell, Yavuz. What the fuck are you doing?”
Yavuz fixes his gaze on some distant object, or maybe he’s lost in the past. Then he scratches his cheek and swings his focus back to me. In the moonlight, his face is ghostly white, his eyes slits. A chill rises from my feet up to my scalp as I fight to hold myself still. Keep him talking.
“What do you want, Yavuz? I thought we were on the same side.”
Yavuz leans against the cream-colored sedan, his body relaxed.“I was never on your side, Max. Never.”
I give him a puzzled look. Let him think I’m stupid. “But…” I protest.
“I told Zehra not to trust you. To stay away from you. I knew you would hurt her.” He snaps his finger. “And poof, she was dead.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
He moves forward, fists up like a boxer, his head pushed forward, angry red spots spreading on his cheeks. “You didn’t set the bombs. And you didn’t pull a trigger. But you are guilty.” This is a rehearsed speech, prepared for this moment, coldly delivered in a menacing rumble. Then he moves back, arms folded, a malevolent glare piercing through me. Suppressed guilt rises in my gullet and I fight not to gag.
