“I was hoping you could tell us,” I said, taking a seat on one of the couches. “See if there are any intelligence advisories on the place.”
The NSA and other intelligence agencies used sophisticated artificial-intelligence network analysis to examine the relationships between known terrorists, organized criminals, and other notable individuals connected to suspicious entities around the world. It was possible the Chalmont had been flagged as a risk by one such agency.
“If it’s a good front, they will have been careful to avoid being flagged by law enforcement or any basic analysis,” Mo-bot said. “It’s not a run-of-the-mill laundry. We might need access to the NSA. You think we can trouble Weaver?”
I shrugged. “Carver said whatever we need, but I’ll call him to be sure. I need to tell him what we’ve learned about Duval anyway. Depending on how close they were, Carver’s friendship with him might represent a security risk.”
“Drink?” Justine asked.
I nodded as I took out my phone. “Water, thanks.”
I dialed Carver’s personal number. After a moment’s silence, the call was answered.
“Yes?”
“Secretary Carver, please.”
“One moment, Mr. Morgan.”
The line briefly went dead then I heard a familiar voice.
“Hello, Mr. Morgan, this is Henry Wilson, Secretary Carver’s aide. I’ll just get the phone to him.”
“Thank you.”
I heard people, lots more voices, vehicles, cheers, music somewhere in the distance. It sounded as though Carver was at a festival.
“Jack,” he said when he came on the line. “I was going to call you once I’d settled in. I’m here.”
“Here?” I asked.
“In Monaco,” he replied. “Assuming you’re still here. I wasn’t sure the summit would end early enough, so it wasn’t a definite, but we got the negotiations done in time for me to make qualifying. It’s such a relief to have got the treaty signed, but more importantly I get to watch the race.”
He chuckled, but my mind was suddenly whirring.
The US Secretary of Defense here in Monaco. Someone I had unique and direct access to. Carver couldn’t be the target, could he?
How would the Dark Fates and Propaganda Tre have even known his schedule, let alone something as tenuous as a contingency plan for a personal jaunt if the summit finished early?
“I’d like to invite you and Justine to be my guests at the race. And qualifying of course,” Carver went on. “I’ve got great seats. Perk of the job.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sec— I mean, Eli,” I replied. “But we’re too hot right now. I was calling to see if it was still okay to access the asset you made available to us.”
“Of course.”
I hesitated.
“And?” he asked.
“And I wanted to let you know we found evidence Philippe Duval was a member of Propaganda Tre, the criminal group we encountered in Rome.”
Carver was completely silent and the line filled with the background sounds of Monaco.
“I’m sorry, Eli,” I said. “I think he might have passed on sensitive information about you.”
“Shit,” Carver replied. “Can you send me what you’ve got?”
“I can, sir,” I assured him.
“I appreciate it, Jack. I’ve got to go, but I’m at the Fairmont if the heat cools for you,” he said, referring to the hotel near to where Justine had been taken. “I’ll keep a couple race passes aside for you both, just in case. I’ve got a bunch of seats overlooking the Louis Chiron chicane. It should be an experience like no other, so I hope you can make it.”
“Mr. Secretary, sir—”
He cut me off. “Just in case — send me the information, Jack. We’ll talk soon.”
And with that he was gone.
I turned to Mo-bot, unable to shake off a growing feeling of unease.
“Send everything we have on Duval to Eli Carver,” I said. “And he’s okayed us conferring with Weaver again.”
“What’s up?” Justine asked, handing me a glass of cold water.
“Carver’s here,” I replied.
“In Monaco?” Sci remarked, and I nodded.
“He’s a petrol-head,” Justine said.
“I keep asking myself a question,” I revealed. “What if they knew he’d be here? What if he’s the target? What if this wasn’t just about revenge? What if they chose us because they knew I could get close to the Secretary of Defense?”
Chapter 63
I couldn’t shake that feeling of unease while we went over the evidence in the apartment.
Mo-bot messaged Weaver, but it was too early for an East Coast analyst to have started his day, so we were forced to wait.
In the meantime, Mo-bot and Sci checked their European sources for anything that would link the Chalmont Casino to Roman Verde and the groups he was a member of.
“I’m guessing money laundering,” Sci said. “Dirty cash in for a few hours, play some small hands. Take clean cash out and claim you won it at the casino. It’s an old trick.”
Mo-bot scoffed. “You think people still launder cash in the age of crypto?”
“People like me,” Sci responded.
“Dinosaurs,” Mo-bot quipped.
“Even with crypto, you still need a way to distribute dollar or euro assets to your organization,” I remarked. “Crypto back end, casino front end could be a powerful combination.”
Mo-bot nodded. “Sure.”
“He suggests it and you take it seriously,” Sci said, playing hurt.
“He’s the boss,” Mo-bot countered.
“Can we see where the five million came from?” I asked. “The money in Duval’s account.”
Mo-bot shook her head. “I can’t access the account, and none of the statements Duval stored on his drive show the incoming transfers. That’s something Weaver might be able to help with.”
It was 4 p.m. when Weaver replied to Mo-bot’s message asking for more details on the casino. She sent everything we had on Duval, Raymond Chalmont, his casino, and Roman Verde and the Dark Fates. She also provided a rundown of our experiences with Propaganda Tre.
Weaver replied almost immediately, telling her he’d need a while to dig deep.
I paced the living room restlessly.
“Jack, what’s up?” Justine asked. “You’ve been on edge ever since the call with Carver.”
Part of being an effective investigator is learning to trust your intuition. I’d learned to listen to mine, and even though I didn’t always understand it, I knew I had to follow where it led me. I believe our brains absorb far more information than our conscious minds can process. Somehow the analysis of all this data is fed back to us as intuition, so while it might appear to be magical or lack an obvious grounding in evidence, it is in fact built on rational analysis.
“I don’t like being in the dark,” I replied. “And I don’t like Carver being here. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
“I don’t like it either,” Mo-bot said. “Coincidences are for daytime soaps and fairy tales.”
I came to a decision.
“You want to take a walk?”
“Now?” Justine asked. “What about Roman and his people?”
“We’ll be careful,” I assured her. “They don’t control the city.”
“You hope,” Sci scoffed unhelpfully.
“You want to see Carver?” Mo-bot asked.
I nodded. “I want to tell him what we know and check his security arrangements. Find out if there was any way Propaganda Tre would have been able to find out he would be coming to Monaco.”
Chapter 64
It was late afternoon by the time Justine and I neared the Fairmont Hotel. We avoided the Avenue des Citronniers and approached the iconic property from the seafront.
“You okay?” I asked her as we neared the spot where she’d been taken.