“How do you know?”
“Who’s the one took three bullets that day? Who’s the one got sentenced to six years at Les Baums?”
“Tino went to Perpignan.”
“For two months.”
“So you say.”
Simon smiled to himself. No one liked to admit they’d been betrayed or taken advantage of, for fear it made them look stupid or somehow deserving of it. This went double for crooks. He took out his cellphone and brought up the photos of the documents showing that Coluzzi was a confidential informant for the Marseille police.
“These for real?”
“Do they look real?” Simon took back the phone. “Where’s Tino been living these last few years?”
“Last place he had was over in Aubagne.”
Simon finished his espresso and stood. “Looking good, Jojo.”
“You too, Ledoux. Decide to get back into the game, let me know. Plenty of work.”
“Sure thing, Jojo.”
Simon started for the back door.
“Hey, what about my piece?” called Jojo.
Simon answered without turning. “I’m going to hang on to it for a while. You mind?”
Chapter 60
The door to the interrogation room closed, and Nikki listened as a key turned and the tumbler slammed home. The room was a three-meter-by-three-meter square with a linoleum floor, a table decorated with cigarette burns, and two plastic chairs. This was not voluntary. She was not doing Frank Mazot or any of his colleagues a favor. She was being held against her will. Upon entering, Mazot had politely confiscated her phone and not so politely relieved her of her weapon. The only thing separating her from official status as a prisoner was an arrest report similar to those she’d spent the last hour studying.
She sat down, clasped her hands on the table, and gazed out the windows at the squad room where a dozen cops sat at their desks trying hard not to pay attention to her. Mazot and Duvivier stood near the hall, deep in conversation, venturing a glance in her direction every once in a while. She stayed where she was, smiling vaguely, wondering if Simon was on his way to pick her up.
Her career was officially over. She wouldn’t be fired, at least not right away. Short of committing capital murder or joining the ranks of ISIS, it was nearly impossible to be fired from a government job in France. But there were worse fates. A transfer from anti-gang to traffic enforcement with a demotion and decrease in pay thrown in. Or a move to the drug brigade, her days spent patrolling the grim housing estates on the outskirts of the city, harassing pimps and dealers. Or worst, a two-year suspension to be served in the “crazy room,” where you sat nine hours a day doing nothing but reading the newspaper and watching television.
Any way she looked at it, her fish was fried.
Contemplating her future, Nikki fidgeted in her chair, her nail digging into the palm of her hand. Simon had been right. Neill had been keeping track of them all along. She didn’t know what Neill was playing at, but whatever it was, she didn’t like it. She was on Simon’s side. Her only chance at salvaging her career lay in bringing in Tino Coluzzi along with evidence proving that he was behind the hijacking in Paris. To make that happen, she needed to get out of here.
After a while she stood and walked casually to the door. She knew it was locked, but she tried it all the same. She continued her circuit, aware of the eyes on her. There were several avenues of escape. She could launch a chair through the window, hop the sill into the squad room, and make a run for it. Or she could use one of the chairs to break off the door handle and similarly try her luck dodging through the desks to the hall, then down the stairs. Or…
Nikki cut short her foolish plotting and returned to her seat.
It was over.
Fini.
Strangely, she felt worst for letting down Riske.
Just then, a detective signaled to Frank Mazot, holding up a phone, an old-fashioned landline. Nikki watched as Mazot took the call, his eyes shifting toward her. He put down the phone and came over to the interrogation room.
“Call for you,” he said, poking his head inside the door. “Commissaire Dumont. Warning: he’s pissed.”
Nikki left the interrogation room and picked up the phone. “You found me.”
“I never lost you,” said Simon Riske. “Just nod and say yes, and make sure you wipe any silly look off your face right now.”
