Mo-bot followed his gaze, glancing over her shoulder to see the gunman emerge from the loading bay. She didn’t wait for the driver to respond, opened the rear door and shoved Sci inside.
“Just get us to a hospital,” she yelled, stepping into the vehicle.
She heard two shots and immediately registered two stabs of searing pain in her back around her left kidney.
She slumped forward onto Sci and heard the roar of an engine. She was vaguely aware of the cab moving off at speed but she was on her own journey, one that tuned out life, color and light and sent her into inescapable darkness.
Chapter 69
Justine and I left the Fairmont Hotel. As we started west toward the apartment, I checked my phone and saw I’d missed a call from Mo-bot while we’d been in the loud party with Carver. I listened to her message as we picked our way along the crowded street, following the pedestrian walkway around the racetrack toward the seafront.
“Mo and Sci have gone to follow up a lead,” I told Justine. “Some guy called Kendrick Stamp.”
“Any idea why?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Mo-bot didn’t say.”
We hurried through the city. The sun was falling rapidly and I was sure the coming of darkness would take the festivities to a new pitch. I wondered if locals liked the race or whether it was viewed as an economic boon to be endured. Did they leave the city, make a bundle renting out their homes, and return when the kerfuffle had moved on to the next country on the Formula One tour? I imagined the race brought in tens of millions of dollars at a minimum, so expected there was general good feeling toward the event.
The race fans thronging the city were already excited and I wished I could be one of them, carelessly partying the night away. But I’d chosen a different path through life, one that took me into harm’s way far too often. One that regularly meant my choices weren’t my own.
I looked at Justine, so beautiful, so intelligent, her face tight with stress. She deserved better than this, surely? Even if I didn’t feel I did. She should have a life of comfort and ease with someone who could make her the center of his world. Someone whose mission in life wouldn’t put her in danger.
She caught me looking at her and smiled. The darkness in my heart faded a little, and I smiled back. My logical mind might believe I should surrender her to a better life, but my heart couldn’t let her go. She was my world and I loved her.
Twenty minutes later, we were back in the apartment. There was no sign of Mo-bot or Sci. I checked Mo-bot’s workstation and found some information about a man called Kendrick Stamp. He was a former FBI agent, who’d served as a scout sniper in the Marine Corps before joining the Bureau, but there was no indication of why Sci and Mo-bot were interested in this man. There was a hotel reservation in his name at the Metropole, which would explain the lead they were following up.
I tried Mo-bot’s phone but there was no answer. Sci’s also rang through to voicemail.
By 6:30 p.m. Justine and I were starting to get worried.
“I don’t like this,” I said, fidgeting restlessly by the dining table.
Justine was flicking through the local channels, looking for news. “They’ll be okay,” she assured me, but I could see the concern writ large on her face.
“I think we should check the hospital,” I said. “And go to the hotel. Ask around. See if anyone has seen them. Talk to this Kendrick Stamp.”
“Jack,” Justine said, pointing at the TV.
She put the volume up on a news report in French. I couldn’t understand the detail, but it was clearly giving details of a shooting outside the Hotel Metropole in Monaco earlier in the day. I caught the gist of a police appeal for witnesses and the fact the victims were two American tourists, but that the attack was targeted and there was no evidence there was a danger to anyone else.
“You don’t think...” Justine began.
I didn’t get the chance to reply. My phone rang and I answered immediately.
“Mr. Morgan, this is Valerie Chevalier. Your colleagues Maureen Roth and Seymour Kloppenberg have been shot. They are in the Princess Grace Hospital receiving treatment. Their conditions are grave.”
“I’m on my way,” I said, before hanging up.
Justine looked at me expectantly, but it took me a moment to break the news because a pit had opened inside me and sucked all the sense and joy from life.
Their conditions are grave.
I understood the significance of those words and could hardly cope with the horror of them being applied to my friends.
Finally, I looked at Justine, my eyes wet.
“Mo and Sci have been shot.”
Chapter 70
We almost ran to the hospital. The exertion was a welcome antidote to the numbness I’d felt in the apartment.
I’d lost friends and comrades before, but familiarity didn’t make the trauma of death any easier. Mo-bot and Sci hadn’t gone, but the Grim Reaper had one hand on them. Police officers and government officials didn’t use the word “grave” unless there was a serious risk of death, and my mind reeled at the prospect I could lose my friends. I’d been feeling guilty about Justine’s abduction and my role in placing her in harm’s way, but if I lost Mo-bot and Sci because of their association with me, I didn’t know how I’d cope. For now, I channeled the guilt, fear and frustration into a bottomless pit of anger at the men who’d done this to us, and most of all Roman Verde whom I was eager to confront.
Our journey through the city, full of anxiety, anger and dismay, was at odds with Monaco’s mood, which was one of delirious excitement. As we headed toward whatever nightmare awaited us, parties were gathering momentum all around.
Chevalier was waiting for us in the hospital and I was glad because it was an obvious place for Roman Verde to target, knowing we’d be very likely to visit our colleagues. I had to assume his people were behind the shooting and that he knew from the news reports that Sci and Mo-bot had survived. As Monaco’s only public hospital, the Princess Grace would be a safe bet for their admission.
“I’m so sorry,” the inspector said as we rushed through the main doors. “This way.”
She led us across the lobby, where three uniformed officers were posted.
“You think there’s an ongoing threat?” Justine asked.
“Possibly,” Chevalier replied. “To you as well as them. The police presence will discourage opportunist attacks.”
She took us to one of the private wards on the fifth floor. There was another cop by the elevator, and a fifth standing guard on the ward itself.
Chevalier nodded a greeting as we approached, and the officer stood to attention.
“Mr. Kloppenberg is in there,” she said, gesturing to a room on our right. “He’s had emergency surgery.”
Justine gasped and I felt hollow deep inside, my legs barely supporting me.
I peered through the observation window and saw Sci, unconscious, connected to a plethora of monitors and IV drips. He looked in a bad way.
“Oh, Sci,” Justine said, taking my hand. In that moment, it took every ounce of self-control to prevent myself from breaking down.
These were our friends.
“Miss Roth is in here,” Valerie said, signaling to the room directly opposite.
Justine and I moved across the corridor. When we looked through the observation window, I was surprised and relieved to see Mo-bot was conscious. She had her head turned toward the exterior window, which gave her a view of the city and the starry night sky. She must have sensed movement because she turned to us, smiled faintly, and beckoned us in.
“The doctors say she cannot be disturbed for long,” Chevalier informed us. “That’s why I haven’t taken her statement yet.”