Page 6 of France Face-Off (Brotherhood Protectors International #6)
Striker had stood beside Alex as she’d spoken to Baranovsky in Russian and while the French police officer briefed the crowd. After Sergei turned and walked away, Striker leaned close to Alex. “What did he say?”
“Someone stabbed Anatoly Petrov. He didn’t see who did it.” Her gaze shifted upward to the corners of the reception hall.
Striker’s gaze followed hers, and he noticed the surveillance cameras.
“If you’re one of the security personnel, you should be able to view the surveillance videos.”
He shook his head. “I told you, I’m not one of the security team, but there might be someone I can tap to gain access to those videos.”
“We’re on it,” a voice said in his ear.
Lucie.
Striker had almost forgotten the communications device through all the drama.
“We’re reviewing the footage now,” Lucie continued. “A laptop will be delivered to your room. Hopefully, by the time it reaches you, we will have access to the videos from the Baie des Anges reception hall. We’ll download them to the laptop.”
As Striker listened to Lucie’s voice, Alex stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “Is there something wrong with you?”
“Not at all. Why?” Striker asked, assuming his most innocent expression.
Sergei had followed the emergency medical technicians toward the exit only to be stopped temporarily by the French police, where they patted him down, searching for weapons. Striker held his breath, waiting for the policemen to find the knife in Sergei’s pocket.
When the police officer allowed him to pass through the door, Striker turned to Alex, frowning. “Could he have found it that quickly?”
“Maybe he had a hole in his pocket,” Alex said.
Hans Sutter, the German Minister of Energy, was next to attempt to leave.
When police officers noted his name on an electronic tablet, another checked his passport while a third officer patted him down, stopping when he reached the front right pocket of his trousers.
The German frowned fiercely when the French policeman stuck his hands into the man’s pocket and pulled out a knife.
Alex swore softly.
Striker recognized it as the knife that he’d taken off her. While Alex had been talking with Sergei, Striker had slipped the knife into Sergei’s pocket. He only hoped that Sergei would touch it and smear their fingerprints, making them indiscernible.
It took several hours for the French police to get through the entire crowd in the reception hall. Other than the knife they found on the German, it appeared as though the actual weapon used to stab Anatoly hadn’t been located.
Striker and Alex were some of the last people to make it out of the reception hall.
Though he was impatient to get back to his room and the potential viewing of the video from the reception, Striker didn’t want to appear too eager.
He didn’t want to leave and give the French police any reason to suspect him.
When they were finally cleared to leave the hall, Striker headed for the elevator. Halfway across the lobby, he was surprised to see Alex keeping up with him.
“Is your room in this wing of the hotel?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not actually. You said that you might have access to the videos from the surveillance cameras in the reception hall. I want to know what’s on those.”
“So, you think by following me, I’ll allow you to watch them?”
She shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
“Considering you almost killed the man,” he pressed the button to go up and waited for the door to the elevator to open, “I would’ve thought that you’d know who attacked Petrov. Aren’t you two working together?”
A bell rang, and the door slid open. He entered.
She stepped in beside him. “I told you, I’m an interpreter. I was only defending myself. I wouldn’t have stabbed my knife into Anatoly Petrov. I need him to remain alive. I also need him to understand the boundaries. No means no.”
“I do believe he understands by now. Perhaps he was making a pass at another woman after he failed with you. She might’ve had the same self-defense training as you.”
She ignored his comment. “Hopefully, the surveillance videos will shed some light.”
Striker pressed the button for his floor. “Who would want Anatoly Petrov dead?”
“I can imagine any number of people, especially those people who don’t want the pipeline project to move forward.”
“And are you one of those people?”
She shook her head. “The people of Europe need that natural gas. They have to get it from somewhere. Russia just happens to be the number two exporter of natural gas. It makes sense to purchase it from Russia. Meanwhile, Europe needs to be researching alternative fuel sources. It’s unfortunate that the German has been detained because of that knife.
Nord Stream’s Pipeline #2 originates in Russia and will culminate in Germany. ”
“Then why would Sergei put the knife into Hans’s pocket? He would have as much at stake in this game as Anatoly, would he not?”
“One would assume so,” Alex said. “But sometimes in Russia, the only way to get ahead is to trip your peers. Or in this case, kill them. For example, the assassination of the former President of Russia and the installation of the new one. With the end of the war in Ukraine, the new regime is anxious to revive the flow of money into Russia and energy out. They have to overcome serious trust issues between Russia and the EU. Anatoly is in charge of the negotiations. If he’s unable to complete those negotiations, Sergei would step up and fill his shoes. ”
“If that were the case, then why did he set up the German who’s on the other end of that negotiation table?”
“Perhaps he has plans to save the day, get Hans out of jail and then make him beholden to Sergei by freeing him to attend such an important summit meeting.” Again, she shrugged. “This is all conjecture. Knowing who plunged the knife might give us a better idea of who’s calling the shots.”
The bell rang, and the door slid open. Striker waved his hand. “Ladies first.”
Alex stepped out of the elevator and waited for Striker. He turned right and led her down the corridor to his room, wondering what he’d find inside and knowing that Lucie had access. He waved his key in front of the door lock. Alex started forward.
He put his hand out. “Me, first.”
She frowned but stepped backward.
He pushed the door open and flipped on the light. Everything appeared as it had when he’d left, with the exception of a laptop lying on the desk. After a cursory check in the bathroom, he waved Alex inside. When she hesitated at the door, he gave her half a grin. “Afraid I might pull an Anatoly?”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
“Trust me, I think I’m more afraid of you than you are of me.” He sat at the desk and powered up the laptop. It immediately came up on a screen with the image of the reception hall and the approximate time of the incident. It appeared to be before the actual stabbing occurred.
Alex joined him at the desk and leaned over his shoulder, looking at the video.
“Like Sergei said, he was speaking to Anatoly moments before the stabbing,” Alex said.
And there, a group of people moved between Sergei and Anatoly as Anatoly left to go to the bar.
Half a dozen individuals blocked the cameras’ view of Anatoly.
The video switched to one from a different angle. “How did you do that?” Alex asked.
“I didn’t,” Striker said.
“So, you aren’t just an escort, you’re part of the security team, are you not?”
He shook his head. “I am not. I just have friends.” Which was a lie.
All he knew was the voice of a woman who called herself Lucie.
She could have been the one out there on the reception hall floor, plunging her knife into Anatoly’s rib cage.
For that matter, she could have sent Alex to distract him and to make Anatoly more careless and unsuspecting when he returned to the reception hall.
As the video played, Daniel watched Alex through his peripheral vision.
Was she actually watching to make sure that the deed was done, and that the actual person who stabbed Anatoly wasn’t visible by any of the surveillance cameras?
The same incident replayed from the opposite angle.
Striker zoomed in on Anatoly. Several men in tuxedos stepped between him and the camera, and they seemed to be laughing down at someone else.
Striker couldn’t make out the person, considering they were looking downward.
It had to be somebody shorter, possibly a female.
He glanced at their legs, hoping to catch sight of another pair of legs or the skirt of a dress, but nothing seemed clear, and the two men in the tuxedos weren’t close enough to Anatoly to plunge a knife into the man’s body.
In the next second, Anatoly was down. Some of the people who had clumped around him continued across the reception hall floor, unaware of the man who had fallen to the ground.
“Do you know any of these people around Anatoly?” Striker asked.
Alex pointed at the screen. “The man in the lead is the Italian Minister of Energy. The one beside him is his aide.”
They slowed the video down and replayed it several times, zooming in on the people surrounding Anatoly. They looked at it from all the angles the cameras had to offer and came up with nothing. Any one of those people who were close to Anatoly could have been the one who had stabbed him.
Striker figured he should be doing this video review on his own, but there was something about Alex that he trusted, even though she’d held a knife over Anatoly’s body.
It was strange because he had no reason to trust her.
He didn’t know her. He didn’t know what she wanted, but she seemed just as determined to find out who wanted Anatoly dead.
Striker turned to her. “Why do you care?”
“I have my reasons,” she said.
“Is it because you wanted to kill him yourself?” he asked.