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Suspects: A Novel by Danielle Steel



Suspects: A Novel by Danielle Steel PDF

Author: Danielle Steel

Publisher: Delacorte Pres

Genres:

Publish Date: June 28, 2022

ISBN-10: 1984821679

Pages: 272

File Type: Epub, PDF

Language: English

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Book Preface

Once the flight took off from Paris/Charles de Gaulle, it was uneventful. There were four seats in first class, and only two were occupied, one by Pierre de Vaumont, the other by Theo Morgan. Each had chosen window seats, so they were far apart, and the two seats together between them were vacant. Theo paid no attention to Pierre and sat in her seat lost in thought. She hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains and didn’t really care if she had privacy. She had taken off her hat, but kept her dark glasses on for a long time. She didn’t look forbidding or unpleasant, but there was something about her demeanor that made it clear that she wasn’t open to conversation and didn’t want to be approached. The cabin crew offered her magazines, champagne, damp cloths to wash her hands, pajamas, a toiletry kit, and slippers, and she refused it all.

Pierre glanced over at her a few times and saw that she hadn’t noticed him. He had recognized her immediately when he saw her board the plane with her bodyguard. Pierre had met Matthieu Pasquier several times at major fashion events, but he had only spoken to Theo briefly once, and she seemed not to remember him when she glanced at him when she boarded the plane, and then looked away.

The bodyguard, who was a fixture in her life now, put her tote in the overhead rack, had helped settle her in her seat with her jacket and a blanket, and asked if she needed anything, before he took his own seat a few rows back.

Pierre noticed that she had a dazed expression as she sat quietly in her seat before takeoff, as though her mind was full of unhappy memories. She had a tragic look to her that was painful to see. After takeoff, she took a book out of her handbag, and was absorbed in what she was reading. Everything about her seemed to say “I’m wounded, stay away.” She was a beautiful woman, with thick dark hair to her shoulders. She would have been sexy if she hadn’t looked so sad. She had huge sapphire-blue eyes, very pale white skin, and a creamy flawless complexion. It struck him that she had graceful hands. He noticed that she was wearing her plain gold wedding band, although she’d been widowed for a year.

They crossed paths finally outside the restroom, after the meal, and Pierre seized the opportunity to speak to her. He was determined to connect with her on the flight, and not miss the chance, which was how he operated. He was an opportunist by profession.

“Ms. Morgan,” he said with a warm smile, as she left the restroom free for him, and he seemed to accidentally block her path back to her seat. “I’m Pierre de Vaumont. I met you with your husband a few years ago.” She had no recollection of it, which was unusual for her. She had a fail-safe memory, which Matthieu had always commented on. It was a little duller now after the trauma she’d been through, but it was starting to improve again. His face didn’t look familiar, and he seemed a little too friendly to her. “It’s lovely to see you. I’m addicted to your shopping site,” he said, smiling even more broadly. She was about to cut the conversation short when she had a thought. Pierre de Vaumont was seen everywhere, at all important social and fashion events. She didn’t recognize his face, but she knew his name. He was in the press all the time, and his attendance was an instant statement that the event was a success. It wouldn’t do her any harm to have him attend the opening party of the pop-up store in New York. She thought of it instantly while he spoke.

“I’m actually on the way to New York to open a pop-up store. We’re having a party the night it opens.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a spare invitation she had with her and handed it to him. “It’s a special event, and we have some very exclusive pieces we’re bringing in. I hope you’ll come and enjoy it,” she said with a shy smile. He noticed how vulnerable she looked, and even he was touched as he took the envelope from her.

“I’d love to come, if you’ll be there,” he said, appearing to flirt with her, which surprised her. When she first saw him, she had assumed he was gay, but he wasn’t acting like it with her.

“I’ll be there, of course,” she lied to him. She had no intention of attending a big party, or a promotional event, even for her own store. Her plan was to be there, but out of sight, so she had a good sense of what merchandise was working best. But she had no desire to be seen, in fact quite the reverse. She didn’t want to play games with the likes of Pierre de Vaumont, who was an entirely social animal, and everything she wasn’t, even more so now. She wanted to avoid the press. She didn’t want it reported that she was back in the world, and then have to endure a feeding frenzy over her. “I’m going to set up the space for the next few days. It’s a lot of work, but I enjoy the manual labor.” She was a creature beyond his ken, and the kind of woman he didn’t understand. The women he knew loved being in the spotlight, and would have killed to be in her shoes, with a successful business of her own and a conglomerate of luxury brands she had inherited that was worth billions. He wasn’t surprised she had a bodyguard, given what she was worth, and what had happened to Matthieu and her son. She was wearing plain black slacks and a black cashmere sweater, with a black cashmere jacket, a heavy gold necklace, a wide gold cuff on her arm, and she carried a large black leather Hermès Kelly bag. She looked impeccably chic, which didn’t surprise him. She had when he’d glimpsed her before at an event, but they had never talked. He was pleased with the invitation to her opening party, and slipped it into his pocket. It never occurred to him that she might not show up.

She went back to her seat and drew the curtains after that, lay her seat down flat and settled in under her own cashmere blanket with a pillow, and slept for several hours.

She woke up in time to have a cup of tea and half a sandwich before they landed. She looked fresh from the long nap. With a little rest, she looked younger than her thirty-eight years, but she felt as though a year of sleepless nights and everything that had happened had taken a heavy toll.

She was in her seat with her hat and dark glasses on, looking sleek, as they prepared to land.


Mike Andrews went to his office earlier than usual that day. He wanted to get a head start on a stack of work on his desk. The building was unusually plain. It had a dreary look to it, intentionally, not to attract any notice. The blinds were drawn at all times, and a small plaque on the wall near the door said it was a law firm, which would explain the comings and goings of agents. Once inside the outer door, there were a number of code panels, and others for fingerprint and facial recognition as well as a retinal scanner. There were several other buildings like it, discreetly placed around the city, housing CIA offices.

Mike was the highest-ranking agent in the building, and the door released as soon as the codes identified him. He took the stairs up four flights to his office, for the exercise. He tried to stay in shape, with a room of gym equipment at home too, since he essentially had a desk job now, and rarely did fieldwork.

He had already assigned an agent to tail Pierre de Vaumont during his stay in New York, and as soon as he sat down in his big, comfortable leather chair, he saw that Robert Richmond had sent him an email. It was the follow-up on the Pasquier kidnapping. He opened it and saw that the most recent clipping was six months old. They were all from the British press, and there was a tabloid-style photo of Theo, which didn’t do her justice. She looked ravaged.

He read the accounts thoroughly and then called Robert in his office.

“Thanks for sending me the clippings. It sounds like they’ve done nothing recently about catching the guys who kidnapped and killed her husband and son.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. But I don’t know where in Russia they were from, and if they were amateurs maybe no one on the regular circuit knew them. From what I recall about the information we got, the trail was cold almost immediately.” Robert was quick to defend his colleagues in France, who were usually good guys and pretty thorough. But it had been an ugly story, a botched job, and a tragic ending. Every operative’s nightmare, especially with a child involved, and with full spotlights shining on them since the victims were so well known.

“But how hard have they tried in the past year?” Mike insisted.

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked,” Robert said. “I was never on that case, other than standard requests to let them know if we heard anything. But I don’t think we ever did. None of our informants seemed to know about it at the time.”

“That sounds odd to me. Fifty million is a hell of a lot of money. Someone out there must have talked or known something,” Mike insisted.

“Apparently not,” he said.

“I’ve put a tail on de Vaumont when they land. I probably won’t get much, but I’d like to know what he’s up to while he’s here.”

“Probably a lot of social stuff, some coke and some hookers. That’s what those guys do. And somewhere in the midst of all that, they introduce someone to someone else, and they walk away with a fat commission.”

“As long as the deals he makes on my watch are legal,” Mike said firmly, and Robert laughed.

“You still sound like a military guy. I like old school too. It’s a lot more complicated these days. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys. And most of the Russians who become spies end up as double agents, playing on both teams. The women too.”

“It doesn’t sound like fun to me,” Mike said.

“It isn’t, and a lot of those double agents end up dead in back alleys. They kill each other regularly. Poisoning is their weapon of choice these days. You have to be damn careful. Some of that stuff they use can kill you if you’re in the same room with it, or it can leave traces all around a town.”

They talked for a few more minutes and then hung up. Mike checked on the flight again. They had made up for lost time, and were only forty minutes late. It had just landed. The passengers were due in customs. He was curious to find out what de Vaumont was doing in New York, and who he was seeing. He didn’t know why but something about de Vaumont intrigued him. De Vaumont seemed like a strange creature to him, a bottom feeder, a leech, an opportunist in a very fancy world where he seemed to have easy entrée. Life was a buffet of opportunities for him.

Pierre de Vaumont noticed that two federal agents from Homeland Security met Theo Morgan and her bodyguard on the plane, and escorted them off before everyone else. Two agents from the airline were also with them, and the Homeland Security officers accompanied them through immigration and customs. As a high-profile person with a life-and-death risk from the kidnappers who might come back for her, Homeland Security took on the responsibility of protecting her when she entered the country. She was quiet as she stood with them waiting for her bags to emerge. As soon as they did, the whole group headed toward the street. She never noticed Pierre de Vaumont watching her, standing off to the side, and he made no attempt to approach her again. He would see her at the party in two days anyway, and he didn’t want to crowd her. She still had that “don’t come near me” look in her eyes.

Pierre didn’t notice Rafael Gonzales observing Theo and her entourage move through the airport. Rafe had just wanted to be sure that all went smoothly and, from all appearances, it had. He was pleased that they had done everything by the book and decided to let de Vaumont take the flight.

Pierre emerged from baggage claim onto the sidewalk at the exact moment Theo was stepping into a rented SUV with a driver. A moment later, after she shook hands with the small group, the car pulled away from the curb and headed toward the city.

Pierre had rented a car and driver too. He had half a dozen appointments every day and a lot to do.

He was staying at the Plaza, not far from where her pop-up store was located, and Theo was staying at the Carlyle, just up Madison Avenue from the store. She and Matthieu had always stayed at the Carlyle when they came to New York. She knew it would be nostalgic for her being there without him, but she didn’t want to stay at a different hotel. They knew her, and she had memories of Axel running up and down the halls as a little child.

The chauffeur already knew where she was staying, drove her to the city, and headed uptown. As they sped up Madison Avenue nearly an hour later, the location of the pop-up store caught her eye and she was pleased to see it. The location was perfect, and she could glimpse through the windows that there were about ten people rushing around inside carrying bolts of fabric, ladders, and paintbrushes. It looked like they still had an enormous amount to do. Her work was cut out for her. When they got to the hotel, she told the driver she’d be down in a few minutes and was as good as her word. She was back twenty minutes later wearing jeans and sneakers, a gray sweatshirt, and her long hair in a braid, with her Kelly bag in tow. Her bodyguard was with her. She had a tote bag with a large notebook, a legal pad, a handful of pens, an industrial measuring tape, and a hammer. She was ready to get to work and smiling when she got there.

She looked for Bella, the young woman they had hired as the number two person for the job, or Valentina, the manager. She spotted the younger of the two and introduced herself.

“I’m Theo,” she said simply. There was no pretense about her. “The space is fabulous,” Theo said with a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there when she arrived. “I love it. We can do wonders with it.”

“I hope so,” Bella said, looking anxious. She had never met Theo before. She was a legend and Bella was terrified that she would say or do the wrong thing, but Theo was concentrating on the structure, and envisioning what she had planned. They had sent bolts of fabric to attach to the walls with a staple gun, and the space had a handsome natural wood floor, with a pretty garden behind it. It seemed very French, which pleased Theo. She expected to see the Eiffel Tower sparkling at her when she glanced out the windows and was surprised when she didn’t.

Theo spoke to the lighting men then, to angle the lights to show the clothes to their best advantage, and to the soundmen about the soundtrack for the party. The wall coverings were bright, multicolored silks. And there would be a small group of violinists at the party playing gypsy music. Bright colors were the core of the new season’s collection, and the direction she was taking seemed perfect. The young woman in charge, Valentina, was surprised how fast it started to take shape as soon as Theo arrived. She hadn’t been successful due to a lack of skill or indolence. She flew around like a whirling dervish, wielded the staple gun herself so she could get the colors of the silks positioned just right. She was capable and energetic and for the first time in a year, she was having fun. She wished there was someone she knew to share it with, but there wasn’t.

She was surprised when the workmen started to go home.

“It’s only eight o’clock,” she said, looking disappointed. It was two a.m. for her, on Paris time, which didn’t seem to stop her. She was fully energized by what she was doing and seemed tireless. She had been exhausted for a year. But working with her hands in the empty store, she felt alive again. It wasn’t serious, in the grander scheme of life, but it was something she could do, a magic she could still create, and that was at least something. It reminded her that she was good at her job, and all its component parts. She hadn’t been able to save her son or her husband, no matter how hard she’d tried, but she could take an empty space and make something beautiful of it.

She set up the desk and told them where to put the cash register, just around the corner in a less visible part of the store. By the time she left at nine o’clock, the bare bones were there, and the color palette, which dominated the room, looked like a sky at dawn, with mauves and purples, soft peaches, brighter oranges, and a splash of shocking pink. She was happy when she turned the alarm on, locked the door, and walked up Madison Avenue, with her bodyguard beside her. She didn’t speak on the brief walk uptown, but he could see that she was happy, more than she had been in a year.


The agent assigned to Pierre de Vaumont checked in with Mike every few hours, as Mike had asked him to do. He wanted to keep a close eye on who Pierre met with and his activities. He had arrived late at Harry Cipriani at the Sherry Netherland Hotel for lunch, but had called the man he was meeting as soon as he cleared customs, and they had delayed their lunch by an hour. The man had a modeling agency in New York and wanted to open an office in Paris, and he was looking for investors. A friend had told him that Pierre de Vaumont would know who had money and would be interested in the project. Pierre suggested a Russian businessman who loved spending time in Paris and had money to burn. Pierre knew the Russian businessman would view the venture as a never-ending source of women for him to date, who were a cut above the girls he went out with now. Pierre told him that he would arrange an introduction the next time the Russian came to New York, or they could make a plan to meet in Paris.

At four o’clock, he stopped at an art gallery where he knew the owner, another Russian, who greeted him with open arms. Pierre had found a backer for him.

At six, he went back to his hotel, and changed into a black suit, which fit him to perfection. Then he met with a new Chinese client downstairs at his hotel.

He had dinner at La Grenouille with a group of Saudis he had met in Dubai, members of the royal family, all in their twenties. Pierre went back to their hotel and dancing with them afterwards, and then he joined them in a suite at a small discreet hotel, where their assistants had hired the lustful young women they were going to spend the night with. Pierre left quietly when their choices had been made. It was after four by then and had been a very full day.

The agent who had followed him since his arrival that afternoon marveled at his stamina, and had gotten photographs of everyone he met with. He sent the photos to Mike, who had run them through their computers. All involved appeared to be legitimate and had no criminal records, but just looking at them, he understood what Pierre was doing. He didn’t know what the projects were, but he was meeting their needs, and they obviously paid for his own lavish lifestyle. He was exactly what he said he was, a matchmaker, for whatever kind of project came along.

The agent went home when Pierre went back to the Plaza. It seemed unlikely he would go out again. The agent would be replaced the next day, so that his face didn’t become familiar to Pierre and alert him.

When Pierre got back to his room, and the agent left, Mike was asleep in his comfortable bachelor pad. It had all the technology and comforts he needed for the life he led. And Theo was just waking up at the Carlyle. She was still on Paris time, and it was five a.m. in New York, eleven in the morning in Paris. She had fallen asleep at midnight, in her clothes, with all the lights on, and five hours was enough sleep for her.

She stood looking out the window of her suite, at Central Park still shrouded in darkness, and she remembered all the times she had been there with her husband and Axel. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that they were still there, asleep in the bedrooms of the suite. Then reality hit her, as it always did. They were gone, and all she could do now was keep going. She could hardly wait for the city to wake up, so she could go back to their store location and get to work again.

They had today to work on it before the party the next day. As it had in the past, work had always saved her. She couldn’t afford to let the memories flood in. Their marriage hadn’t been perfect. Matthieu was difficult at times, and there had been power struggles between them, but they had been happy enough. The only thing she couldn’t forgive him for was that he had had their son with him when they took him, and no protection. She had begged him for years to get private security, particularly at the château, which was fairly isolated, but he insisted he didn’t need it. He liked having no help in the house on the weekends, and he thought no one would ever dare attack him, but they had, and none of the happy memories changed that. Their dream life had turned into a nightmare, and she was left to live it alone.


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