Page 41 of French Escapade

Élodie

“What do you know about the auction?”

When I ask Christophe this question, I read only surprise on his face. I have my answer. He doesn’t know shit.

I sigh.

“Élodie, if you know anything, talk to me. If you hide stuff, you’re putting both of us at risk.”

He’s right. I have to tell him. Either he’s only acting, and he already knows what’s happening, or he’s not—and that’s a point in his favor. That would be evidence that he’s not as close to Arkady as I suspected.

“Did you notice that all the men with a red rose on their lapels have moved to another room?”

“Yes, I was told there was some sort of meeting. I checked out the room earlier, and there’s a stand and chairs lined up as they would for a conference.”

“And this didn’t seem strange to you, in the middle of a birthday party?”

He shrugs. “What do I know? Russians are weird to begin with. And I don’t really care what this Dmitri and his friends do when they party. If they get their kicks by looking at old slides or pictures … I only care about the guy I want to catch, while checking for other illegal activities.”

“Well, as far as illegal activities go, you’re in for a treat. How do you feel about human trafficking?”

His eyes open wide. I feel that, for a bit, he thought I was joking. But now he understands I’m not. “What the fuck?"

“Well, that’s what I’m dealing with. Now you understand why I didn’t want to waste any time and decided to act alone.”

“Girls?”

“Foreign ones, I suppose. I know there’s at least one American. It’s the usual scenario. He invites them for a dream vacation in the south of France. They think they have met Prince Charming and, after a few days, he lets them know they’re footing the bill…”

“Except that he doesn’t put them on the street. He sells them? To whom?”

“That, I don’t know. To the guys with the red roses, I would guess. But I didn’t recognize any of them. I think none of them are from around here. I suppose that the clients for this sort of sale can be found worldwide, and that they are ready to fly from anywhere for that sort of merchandise…”

Just saying it out loud makes me sick. Who knows what those men do to the girls after they buy them? Do they make them work the street? Are they kept for their private use? I don’t want to think about it.

“We need to let the rest of the team know,” Christophe says.

“What about your case? It will be derailed.”

He remains silent for a second, as if he’s weighing the consequences. “It’s a possibility. But if you’re right, I can’t let this happen. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I was here and didn’t do a thing to stop it. I can’t look away.”

I study him. I’ve always thought Christophe was the sort of guy who only looked out for himself. Looks like there’s more to him than that.

“Come on, let’s not stay here. I need to tell Rossi and the guys outside.”

He leads me through another hallway and pushes the security door open. We come out on the esplanade, which covers the old swimming pool on the port side of the building. It’s dark. Good. We won’t be noticed.

Christophe pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks a gate that opens directly onto the docks. We walk for a bit, and then I recognize one of the plain cars from the station.

* * *

A few minutes later, my colleagues who were waiting on that side of the building are up to speed. We all agree there’s no time to lose. We need to act as soon as possible.

The team leader states,“We need to tell the men posted at the other entrances and then we’ll meet with those in the parking lot. We’ll get in through the kitchen entrance. With a little luck, no one inside will notice anything.”

“Good. I suggest that Christophe and I return to the dining room so I can warn my team.”

“Your team?”

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