‘Go on.’
‘What if she wasn’t there to meet us?’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘I’m not saying I believe it. I’m just saying it’s a possibility.’
Payne leaned back in his chair. ‘Explain.’
‘First of all, she snuck into the Cathedral and hid during your speech. If she had wanted to speak to us, why didn’t she just pull us into a room for a quick chat?’
‘According to her, she was embarrassed by her clothes.’
‘Yeah, well, she also said her name was Ashley, and she was a schoolteacher. So I wouldn’t put too much credence into anything she claimed.’
‘Good point.’
‘Secondly, do you know where she was when I called you?’
‘I have no idea. I wasn’t with you at the time.’
‘She was standing in the English Room, right beside the door to the French Room.’
‘What’s your point?’
‘Maybe she was going there to get the Middle French translated but before she had a chance, she noticed me and I spooked her.’
Payne grinned. ‘You’ve been known to spook women.’
He ignored the insult. ‘Anyway, my point is this: maybe she wasn’t there for us. Maybe she was there for a French professor or some other expert, but we intervened before she had a chance to talk with them. I mean, she flew in before the event and was scheduled to fly out today. That makes me believe she came here for the event, not to spend quality time with us.’
‘I don’t know. That sure is a lot of maybes, especially when you consider how many colleges there are in Philadelphia. Why fly all the way to Pittsburgh when she could have gone to an Ivy League school like Penn and gotten help there?’
Jones shrugged. ‘Like I said, it was just a theory.’
‘Trust me, I’m not dismissing it. For all we know, she might have been there to meet someone else. Maybe even one of my guests. At this point, it’s too early to rule anything out. Especially since we don’t know much about the man who killed her. Once we get his identity, I’m sure things will make a lot more sense.’
‘I hope so. Because right now we’re just grasping at straws.’
Raskin called with the shooter’s identity less than an hour later, but it wasn’t the smoking gun they were looking for. In fact, it confused them even more.
‘You were right,’ Raskin said through the speakerphone. ‘Last night’s shooter was a soldier. But you’ll never guess where he was from.’
‘France,’ Jones blurted.
‘Sparta,’ Payne joked.
Raskin smiled at the reference. ‘Nope. The guy was Belgian.’
Jones furrowed his brow. ‘Belgian? Like the waffles?’
‘Exactly like the waffles. And nearly as flat, if these crime-scene pictures are accurate. Why didn’t you tell me he got hit by a bus?’
‘Because you never asked.’
‘Come on, dude. That’s not the type of question that comes up—’
Payne cut them off. ‘Was he still on active duty?’
Raskin stared at his computer screen. ‘No, he was discharged from the Composante Terre three years ago.’
‘The what?’
‘The Composante Terre. That’s the land component of the Belgian Armed Forces.’
Payne nodded in understanding. ‘In other words, their army.’
‘Exactly.’
‘What was his specialty?’
‘He was a sniper with their Special Forces Group in Flawinne.’
Payne glanced at Jones. ‘A sniper? Why in the hell was a sniper on the Pitt campus?’
Jones shrugged. ‘Campaigning for a Belgian nationality room?’
‘Well, I’m not going to vote for him.’
‘Neither is Ashley.’
‘I’ve got a better question for you,’ Raskin said over the phone.
‘What is it?’ Payne wondered.
‘If this guy was a sniper, why are you guys still alive?’
‘Two reasons that I can think of,’ Jones surmised. ‘Number one was last night’s weather. Visibility was next to nil. No way he could have picked us off from a distance, not with the wind, snow, and darkness working against him. On a sunny day, he could’ve planted himself across the street and taken us out. Last night, he had to get up close and personal.’
‘Makes sense to me,’ Raskin admitted. ‘What’s number two?’
‘Simple. He wasn’t gunning for us. He was gunning for the girl.’
Payne nodded in agreement, realizing a trained sniper would have waited for all of his targets to exit Heinz Chapel before he started shooting. ‘Randy, do me a favour and e-mail his file to us. I want to look over his record, just to be sure I’m not missing something. Who knows? He was Belgian Special Forces. Maybe our paths crossed on the battlefield somewhere.’
‘I’m sending it right now.’
‘By the way, what was his name?’
‘Jean-Pierre Allard.’
Jones grinned. ‘I just thought of reason number three. No way a guy named Jean-Pierre kills either one of us. I’d be fine with an assassin named the Butcher. But Jean-Pierre? That would be embarrassing.’
Payne agreed. ‘You got that right.’
‘Speaking of names,’ Jones said to Raskin, ‘any word on this morning’s shooter?’
‘Not yet, but my search engines are still chugging along. As soon as something turns up, I’ll be sure to give you a call.’
‘Great. We’ll be here all day.’
‘Really?’ Raskin looked at the clock on his computer screen. ‘Shouldn’t you be knee-deep in beer and chicken wings by now?’
‘Don’t get me started,’ Jones whined. ‘Last night Jon made me skip Pitt hoops for his charity event. Today it’s the Steelers. If he asks me to bail on a playoff game, I’ll be in the market for a new best friend.’
‘If that happens, give me a call. I’d be more than willing to go to a game.’
‘Hold up! They let you leave your desk?’
Raskin sighed. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never tried to leave.’
24
To better explain his translation of the letter, Ulster took his materials into the teaching studio, located in the basement of the Archives, and set up a secure video conference with Payne and Jones. An antique desk and leather chair sat in the middle of the soundproof room. On the wall behind Ulster was a dryerase board and a silver tray filled with a rainbow of markers. In front of him was a video camera mounted on top of a large monitor. It allowed the trio to have a confidential conversation, protected by the latest firewalls and encryption programs.
Meanwhile, Payne and Jones sat next to each other in the main conference room at the Payne Industries Building. The chestnut-lined chamber was equipped with the newest audiovisual gadgetry — computers, plasma screens, and fibreoptic connections. On the lacquered table, they had set up a camera and monitor that worked the same way as Ulster’s. Thanks to their screen, they could see him and speak to him as if he was sitting across from them.
Ulster stared at Payne and Jones via his monitor. ‘First of all, please allow me to apologize for the lengthy delay. Your riddle was a stubborn beast, one that took me a while to slay.’
Jones smiled at the colourful metaphor. Only a few hours had passed since their initial conversation. ‘To be honest, we’re surprised you finished the translation so quickly. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until late tonight or tomorrow.’
Ulster waved his hand dismissively. ‘Tomorrow? I should think not! How could I have slept knowing armed men are running round your city, gunning for your blood?’
‘The same way I slept on the battlefield. Left eye closed, right eye closed, goodnight.’