Schäfer eyed him for a long moment without responding. Then he took out his phone. When his call was answered on the other end, he said, “Hello? This is Sergeant Schäfer speaking. Contact Interpol right away and inform them that Anna Kiel may be staying in the proximity of Fresnes Prison south of Paris and it is highly likely that she visited an inmate of the prison sometime in the last week, a Danish citizen by the name of Nick Kaldan.”

He held the phone away from his mouth and looked over at Duvall. “Where is Heloise? Where is she staying while she’s there?”

Martin Duvall held out his hand, palms up, and shrugged. “Some hotel in the Quartier du Marais,” he said. “I don’t know the name.”

Schäfer turned his back to him and spoke further. “We also need credit card information for a Heloise Eleanor Kaldan—that’s Heloise with a silent H and then E, L, O, I, S, E … Yes. Kaldan. She flew to Paris this morning and is staying in a hotel somewhere in the city center. Find out where. It’s urgent!”

He hung up the call and looked back over at Duvall.

“Is there anything else you’re keeping from us?” he asked, then tossed his cigarette butt on the asphalt and stepped on it.

Duvall shook his head.

“All right. If you hear from Heloise, then tell her that she needs to ditch this moronic solo trip she’s on. You got it?”

Duvall nodded reluctantly.

“Tell her to call me right away and to wait at her hotel until she hears from us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, got it. But I don’t think it’s going to make any difference.”

Schäfer looked puzzled. “Why not?”

“Because … Listen, this thing between us is still pretty new. I don’t know Heloise all that well. She’s a very secretive person, and she has a hard time trusting people. It’s hard for her to open up, so she can come off as extremely cynical and cold, but she really isn’t. She’s a sensitive person, and that father of hers? He’s her Achilles’ heel. The way I understand it, this is the first time in four years that she’s wanted to see him. There has to be some reason for that, so I don’t think I can convince her to stop now.”

“Try,” Schäfer said, his face unsentimental. He nodded to Augustin. “Let’s go.”

They got into the car.

In the rearview mirror, Schäfer could see Martin Duvall watching them.

“Where are we going?” Augustin asked.

Schäfer turned the key so the engine started humming. He buckled his seat belt with one hand as he pulled out onto the street with the other.

“To the airport.”

CHAPTER

40