The Courbet Connection (Book 5) (Genevieve Lenard) (29 page)

“Your parents must be very proud,” Phillip said from the door. I wasn’t surprised to see him in the office at this hour. I was, however, surprised at the pride he exhibited for Rebecca’s achievements.

“They are. That’s why I don’t want them to worry.” She played with her watch again. “I didn’t tell them about the kidnapped student in Paris or Michael or Steve. I just hope this will go away soon, so I can phone them.”

“Why can’t you phone them now?” I asked.

Rebecca made a sound of disbelief. “My mom will immediately know something’s wrong. It’s like she has some supernatural Spidey sense. I’m sure she would be able to diagnose me with appendicitis just from hearing me say ‘hello’.”

“Your mother most likely knows the different levels of tension and frequencies in your voice. I can say with confidence that she does not have a Spidey sense, since nothing like that exists.”

Everyone laughed and I realised I’d misinterpreted something Rebecca had said. At least the tension in the room was no longer so clearly expressed in everyone’s body language.

“Ladies, why don’t you come with me and I’ll set you up in the conference room.” Phillip lowered his voice as if telling Nikki and Rebecca a secret. “We have a state-of-the-art multimedia system and I’m sure Tim can get a movie or two to play on it. If you want, we can send him for some popcorn as well.”

Both young women relaxed and smiled. Phillip led them out of the room and down the hall, discussing the different films they could choose from. The girls were talking about a romantic comedy and I suppressed a shudder. To worsen it, they insisted on the largest popcorn Tim could get them. It was at that part of the conversation that I turned to Francine. “What did you find out about this survey?”

“‘Hi, Francine.’ ‘Oh! Hi, girlfriend. How are you?’ ‘I’m well, how are you, Francine, my best friend?’ ‘I’m fantastic, thank you for asking.’” Francine sometimes went into such a monologue when I was extraordinarily brusque. There was no
sign of anger or hurt on her face, only amusement. As usual. “‘So what do you have for me, my bestest friend?’ ‘Oh, you won’t believe what I found, bestie. This survey was done via internet. It involved more than four hundred universities across all the EU member states, and over six hundred thousand students. Cool, huh?’”

I made sure she was looking at me so she would see my sincere expression when I said, “Thank you.”

“No biggie. But there’s so much more. The main aim of this survey is to determine the susceptibility of students to succumb to excessive alcohol consumption and drug use. It is the largest such study ever done. They also want to know if the students would progress from drugs to a life of crime, even petty crimes like theft, plagiarism, buying exam papers, hacking into the university servers and changing their grades. Stuff like that.

“The survey has found that international or displaced students are the ones with the most ambition, the least likely to give in to peer pressure and the most likely to succeed. Their families usually sacrifice a lot to give them a better future. They see the value in what’s being given to them and don’t want to waste such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The same counts for students coming from disadvantaged backgrounds and studying on grants. They’re working especially hard to get themselves out of the lives they’ve been born into.”

“How long did this study last?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s still ongoing. It’s now been five years, but they’re constantly updating their data. Since most courses are four years long, they closed the first group a year ago. This year will be their second graduating group. I get the sense that they might be following-up even after graduation.”

“Is the study anonymous?”

“Yes, but only on the surface. The students aren’t required to give their names, but they have to log in with their student
IDs, which is as good as giving their names. They are also asked to volunteer their email addresses for follow-up. Like most young people in today’s digital age, these sweet little angels are all far too open and generous with their personal details. More than eighty percent gave their email addresses.”

I didn’t want to ask my next question. I took a deep breath. “Did any of the twenty-two missing students give their email addresses?”

“All of them.” All light-heartedness disappeared as Francine’s lips thinned.

“Michael and Steve?”

Francine nodded stiffly.

“Holy frigging hell. I did not see that one coming.” Manny rubbed his hands hard over his face. “Okay, so now we know where this arsehole is harvesting his victims from. Do we know who’s been looking at those contact details?”

“The pool is too big,” Francine said. “The survey was outsourced. That means the people working for the company who did the survey, plus loads of Interpol employees and probably a few others have had access to this data. I’m sorry, handsome, but it’s really impossible to determine anything by looking at whoever accessed that info.”

“Which company did the survey?” I asked.

“GDD Security Industries. I checked them out and they came out clean. There was nothing spectacular about them.” She stopped when she noticed Manny staring at her. They continued looking at each other until Francine threw her hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll look deeper into them. But only because you asked so nicely. I better dig up some juicy scandal.”

Vinnie had been observing everything from the far side of the round table. He exhibited special enjoyment every time Francine irritated Manny. I turned towards him. “Nikki said you’d been phoning around to find out if anyone knows
anything about the kidnappings. Did you get any useful information?”

“Actually, I’d been asking to buy some… well, some company, someone to have fun with. And I’m not talking about paying per hour.” He tried to maintain a look of apathy, but I noticed the micro-expressions of disgust. It mirrored the expressions of everyone else in the room. “It is not as uncommon as one would think. I reckoned that if someone could sell me a sex slave, they might know where I could buy body parts. Most of the people I spoke to suggested I just go and choose someone off the street and take her home.”

“That’s… That’s…” Francine wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. “I don’t have words for that level of low, scumbag, mud-sucking, cruel—”

“I agree, supermodel.”

“I insisted that I wanted someone clean.” Vinnie shrugged when he saw my raised eyebrows. “I remembered all the health and medical details about Matthieu on the auction site and used them to narrow the search down to something that might bring us closer to that ZD asswipe.”

“Did you get something useful?” Colin asked.

“Two people told me they’ll phone me back, but I’m not holding my breath.”

I knew very little about Vinnie’s childhood and still had not found the appropriate moment to ask him about the large disfiguring scar running down the side of his face. The few times he’d been without a shirt, I’d looked at that scar continuing down his torso and wondered who could have done that to him.

He had always been quite open about his criminal past, which gave him the many contacts he still had. He worked hard maintaining the trust and favour of many notorious criminals. From a few hints, I’d come to the conclusion that Interpol had full knowledge of his work and these relationships. I knew he would be able to help me with the new idea that had burst into my mind.

“Vinnie, I’m going to need your help to work through some data.”

Vinnie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sure, Jen-girl. I don’t know if or how I can help, but I’ll try. I’m not all that smart.”

“That’s a lie. You have a slightly above average IQ, but your ability to assess information and reach viable conclusions is far above average.”

“Wow.” Vinnie’s chest puffed out. “Y’all hear that? I’m a genius.”

“I didn’t say th…” I sighed. The look I gave him had him chuckling as he followed me into my viewing room.

“Jenny.” Colin walked up to me, his expression sombre. “I’m going to try again to find Maurice. It’s been three days and I’m very concerned. He’s not one to disappear or get caught by surprise. I’m also going to see if I can find anything else about Michael and Steve.”

I lifted my hand to touch him, then dropped it. “I don’t want you to go. You know what Dukwicz said.”

“I know, love. But no one else is looking for these people. And I’m in disguise. I’ll be very careful.” He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “Also, Pink is coming along again.”

It was hard to let go of his hand and watch him leave the room. Vinnie had taken Colin’s chair next to mine and waited for me to join him. I needed to do something to take my mind from the intense worry about Colin’s safety. A minute later I had my computer running and I opened to the second auction site. That was when I realised my skills were too limited. “Francine?”

“Yes, hon?”

“Could you come in here and help us?”

“Of course.” A chair creaked and her bracelets jingled as she walked into my room. “What do you need?”

“Sit down. This might take a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She pulled the third chair closer and sat on my other side. Both of them kept a comfortable distance so that I didn’t feel crowded. I appreciated it. “Ooh. You’re back on the auction site. What are we doing?”

“I want to go into each bidder’s profile and look at their history.” I turned to Vinnie. “You must see if anything in those profiles reminds you of someone of your acquaintance.”

“Like what?” he asked.

I turned back to Francine. “Could you go to the first person’s profile?’

“Sure thing.” She pulled my keyboard and mouse closer and started working. I breathed through my need to grab back my equipment and arrange it in its carefully chosen places. It took a few minutes before Francine nodded. “Hmm. For someone crawling around the dark net, he’s not very secretive. His profile doesn’t give us any identity, but it shows us that he has a shop on SSS. We can see what he’s selling and also what he’s recommending.”

“What do you want me to look for, Jen-girl?” Vinnie was squinting at the monitors. “This dude is selling some hardcore ammo.”

“You know the business of your acquaintances, right?”

“Right.” His facial muscles relaxed. “Aha. You want me to look at these profiles and see if I can put a name to the selection of products on offer—same as what they sell on the street. Smart. Very smart. You’re the real genius, Jen-girl.”

“Just look at this profile.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at Francine, then became serious. To the casual observer, he would look disinterested—lounging in the chair, his head tilted to one side, looking at each page
without much change in his expression. I knew he was focussed, analysing each item offered and building a profile. When the corners of his mouth turned down and he shook his head, I knew he hadn’t connected the first bidder to anyone he knew.

It took us three hours to meticulously work through eleven profiles. I felt sickened by the weapons, sex, pornography and many other illicit products and services for sale. Francine and Vinnie had stopped bantering more than an hour ago. We were quietly working through the ninth profile when Vinnie tensed. “Go back to the previous page.”

Francine glanced at Vinnie before she did as he’d asked. I stared at the items, trying to see what Vinnie might have recognised. On the page were hunting rifles, ammunition in quantities I was sure were illegal, telescopes and night vision equipment.

“Do you know who this might be?” I asked. “Does he have a hunting business?”

Vinnie’s
masseter
muscles tightened, his jaw stiff when he breathed heavily through his nose. He took out his smartphone, swiped a few times and put it against his ear.

“Frank, you ugly bastard, how are you?” Vinnie leaned forward and stared at the carpet between his feet. “Oh, you know, I’ve been around… Yup… Haha, no, I’m not going to date your sister. Your mother, well, that’s another… Yes, you’re a motherfucking SOB too… Hmm. Man, I was jonesing for some fun and thought of Jonas. Is he still hosting his games?… No? Damn, that’s a pity. I was in the mood for a good hunt, ya know… Oh, really?… That’s fucking A, man… Yeah, yeah, I will. You too. And tell your mom I say hi… Yeah, fuck you too.”

He finished the call and dropped his head into his hands. After a few seconds, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Vinnie?”

He heaved a deep sigh and sat up. “Francine, go to deerheadlights dot onion.”

Vinnie’s movements had become jerky from the tension in his muscles. On the centre monitor a website opened on a home page that immediately caused my
corrugator supercilii
muscles to pull my brows together. It had the same analogue clock as the auction website. This one was set for four hours after the auction. Francine moved the cursor over the clock and a drop-down menu appeared.

“Oh, my God.” Francine’s whisper was loud in the room. She clicked on a subpage, which opened to a gallery of videos. Dark panic entered my peripheral vision as I looked at the still frames from each video. I didn’t have to watch them to know what they were. They were evidence of the worst of humanity.