Page 78 of Gabriel: Duke of Bencalor

Quinn found a new ad­mi­ra­tion for her boss. While the French­man de­pended on the dis­trac­tions of his wand and cig­a­rette, Mikel waited with a coiled still­ness. No un­nec­es­sary ges­tures. No showy tech­nol­ogy or stalling. Just his at­ten­tion fo­cused to a laser sharp­ness. Her boss clearly made Dupont un­easy.

“This is all hearsay, you un­der­stand. Ru­mors,” the French­man said.

Mikel didn’t move.

“Some­one wanted Prince Raul kid­napped. This per­son hired a pro­fes­sional to carry out the ab­duc­tion. The ran­som was split fifty-fifty. You would know how much was paid.”

“Who was this per­son?” Mikel asked.

Quinn’s pulse jumped in an­tic­i­pa­tion. This was their miss­ing piece, the per­son who had set the ter­ri­ble chain of events in mo­tion.

“No one knows,” Dupont said. “All com­mu­ni­ca­tion was through the dark web.”

She couldn’t track that, es­pe­cially not more than a year later. Frus­tra­tion re­placed ex­cite­ment.

“Any the­o­ries?”

Dupont shook his head. “Not even a sus­pi­cion.”

“How did this anony­mous per­son con­vince the pro to do the job?” Mikel asked.

“Cash. It wasn’t a con­tin­gency job. The per­son paid the pro’s ex­penses up front. So the ran­som split was pure profit.”

“Was there more than one can­di­date in the run­ning to carry out the op­er­a­tion?” Mikel probed.

Dupont shrugged, but the cor­ners of his mouth flicked up­ward. “I hear the pro came up with an out­stand­ing plan.”

“I hear the pro had to re­duce the ran­som de­mand,” Mikel pointed out.

Dupont’s mouth flat­tened again.

“How did you get the in­for­ma­tion on the prince’s move­ments?” Mikel asked.

“I heard that the in­sti­ga­tor pro­vided the in­tel. That the pro checked it out a cou­ple of times prior to the job, and it was good.”

“What about the sur­geon?” Mikel prod­ded.

“That was the in­sti­ga­tor’s idea.” Dupont’s voice held an edge of ir­ri­ta­tion. “That kind of bull­shit isn’t nec­es­sary. It should be used only as a last re­sort.”

Quinn felt an­other flicker of ela­tion. If Dupont, who was the hy­po­thet­i­cal “pro” in this sit­u­a­tion, hadn’t hired the sur­geon, then the “in­sti­ga­tor” had, which meant they could pres­sure Ricci for in­for­ma­tion. He wasn’t a ca­reer crim­i­nal like Dupont, so he might be eas­ier to crack. It was an­other thread to tug on.

“When did the in­sti­ga­tor first con­tact the pro?” Mikel asked.

Dupont shrugged. “How would I know? If I were do­ing this kind of job, I’d want six months’ no­tice, but it could be done a month faster.”

Five months prior to the kid­nap­ping. An­tic­i­pa­tion fizzed through Quinn. She could look for changes in pat­terns around the royal fam­ily at that time, some­thing that might have made the in­sti­ga­tor set the kid­nap­ping in mo­tion.

“Is there any­thing else you’d like to tell me?” Mikel asked.

“Oui. To keep the fuck out of my busi­ness from now on,” Dupont said, his voice low and flat.

“It de­pends on if I need more in­for­ma­tion or not,” Mikel said.

“You aren’t un­der­stand­ing me. I’m done with this.” Dupont and Mikel faced each other in si­lence for a long mo­ment. Then Dupont said, “Oh, I al­most for­got. I have some­thing for Made­moi­selle Pier­son. May I reach in my pocket?”

Fear pinched at Quinn’s lungs. What the hell would Dupont want to give her?

Mikel scowled but nod­ded.

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