Page 12 of France Face-Off
Alex swore softly.
Striker recognized it as the knife that he’d taken off her. While Alex had been talking with Sergei, Striker had slipped the knife into Sergei’s pocket. He only hoped that Sergei would touch it and smear their fingerprints, making them indiscernible.
It took several hours for the French police to get through the entire crowd in the reception hall. Other than the knife they found on the German, it appeared as though the actual weapon used to stab Anatoly hadn’t been located.
Striker and Alex were some of the last people to make it out of the reception hall. Though he was impatient to get back to his room and the potential viewing of the video from the reception, Striker didn’t want to appear too eager. He didn’t want to leave and give the French police any reason to suspect him.
When they were finally cleared to leave the hall, Striker headed for the elevator. Halfway across the lobby, he was surprised to see Alex keeping up with him.
“Is your room in this wing of the hotel?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not actually. You said that you might have access to the videos from the surveillance cameras in the reception hall. I want to know what’s on those.”
“So, you think by following me, I’ll allow you to watch them?”
She shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
“Considering you almost killed the man,” he pressed the button to go up and waited for the door to the elevator to open, “I would’ve thought that you’d know who attacked Petrov. Aren’t you two working together?”
A bell rang, and the door slid open. He entered.
She stepped in beside him. “I told you, I’m an interpreter. I was only defending myself. I wouldn’t have stabbed my knife into Anatoly Petrov. I need him to remain alive. I also need him to understand the boundaries. No means no.”
“I do believe he understands by now. Perhaps he was making a pass at another woman after he failed with you. She might’ve had the same self-defense training as you.”
She ignored his comment. “Hopefully, the surveillance videos will shed some light.”
Striker pressed the button for his floor. “Who would want Anatoly Petrov dead?”
“I can imagine any number of people, especially those people who don’t want the pipeline project to move forward.”
“And are you one of those people?”
She shook her head. “The people of Europe need that natural gas. They have to get it from somewhere. Russia just happens to be the number two exporter of natural gas. It makes sense to purchase it from Russia. Meanwhile, Europe needs to be researching alternative fuel sources. It’s unfortunate that the German has been detained because of that knife. Nord Stream’s Pipeline #2 originates in Russia and will culminate in Germany.”
“Then why would Sergei put the knife into Hans’s pocket? He would have as much at stake in this game as Anatoly, would he not?”
“One would assume so,” Alex said. “But sometimes in Russia, the only way to get ahead is to trip your peers. Or in this case, kill them. For example, the assassination of the former President of Russia and the installation of the new one. With the end of the war in Ukraine, the new regime is anxious to revive the flow of money into Russia and energy out. They have to overcome serious trust issues between Russia and the EU. Anatoly is in charge of the negotiations. If he’s unable to complete those negotiations, Sergei would step up and fill his shoes.”
“If that were the case, then why did he set up the German who’s on the other end of that negotiation table?”
“Perhaps he has plans to save the day, get Hans out of jail and then make him beholden to Sergei by freeing him to attend such an important summit meeting.” Again, she shrugged. “This is all conjecture. Knowing who plunged the knife might give us a better idea of who’s calling the shots.”
The bell rang, and the door slid open. Striker waved his hand. “Ladies first.”
Alex stepped out of the elevator and waited for Striker. He turned right and led her down the corridor to his room, wondering what he’d find inside and knowing that Lucie had access. He waved his key in front of the door lock. Alex started forward.
He put his hand out. “Me, first.”
She frowned but stepped backward.
He pushed the door open and flipped on the light. Everything appeared as it had when he’d left, with the exception of a laptop lying on the desk. After a cursory check in the bathroom, he waved Alex inside. When she hesitated at the door, he gave her half a grin. “Afraid I might pull an Anatoly?”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Trust me, I think I’m more afraid of you than you are of me.” He sat at the desk and powered up the laptop. It immediately came up on a screen with the image of the reception hall and the approximate time of the incident. It appeared to be before the actual stabbing occurred.
Alex joined him at the desk and leaned over his shoulder, looking at the video. “Like Sergei said, he was speaking to Anatoly moments before the stabbing,” Alex said. And there, a group of people moved between Sergei and Anatoly as Anatoly left to go to the bar. Half a dozen individuals blocked the cameras’ view of Anatoly. The video switched to one from a different angle. “How did you do that?” Alex asked.
