Chapter Thirteen
When Treville messaged Aramis to update them on developments, Aramis and Porthos retreated to the waiting room to take his subsequent call over speaker phone. Treville told them about his "conversation" with the owner of the small airfield in Aubigny-sur-Nere.
"The plane flew out," Treville said. "And it's disappeared. It could be anywhere. The owner was a man of dubious character, to say the least."
"Weather good ahead. Contract ended," Aramis repeated the message that had been found on the mechanic's phone. "It fits," he sighed. "So, Mendez has killed his accomplice, covered his tracks and gone."
Porthos kicked a chair in frustration as he went across to the coffee machine.
"So why the message?" he growled, as he stabbed a button and watched as a paper cup noisily dropped into place and a stream of black coffee filtered into it.
"Depends when he sent it," Treville replied. "Perhaps he wanted the man to assume their business was over, but it obviously wasn't. I've got men onto trying to locate the plane, but ..."
"It's another needle in a haystack," Porthos interrupted. "And we all know how adept Mendez is at crossin' borders."
"Do we know who the dead man was?" Aramis continued, shaking his head at Porthos's offer of coffee. He felt wired enough.
"No-one special. A petty criminal," Treville replied. "Quite a mess to autopsy," he added, grimly.
"Tell me about it," Porthos grunted, before they both fell silent.
At a loss for words from his two men, Treville stepped in. "Stay there for now."
"You're sure?" Porthos said, having recovered his composure a little.
"I know where you are," their Captain said, sounding tired. "I'll call you if I need you.
"Porthos ..." he added;
"Captain?"
"Don't beat yourself up," Treville said, "Your lead was good. I've got people looking for that plane."
He ended the call and the room fell silent. Porthos rubbed his hand roughly down his face and turned to Aramis.
"Back to square one," he growled. "Mendez has skipped and he could be anywhere. So, what do we tell Athos?"
Aramis sighed.
He picked up the chair that Porthos had kicked and set it back in place.
"That Mendez has gone. And we are looking for him," he said, his tone flat. "The usual," he added.
"He'll need occupyin'" Porthos said, swallowing the last of the luke warm coffee and crumpling the cup up.
"That he will," Aramis replied.
oOo
"Good morning," the man said, as he pulled his id lanyard over his head and passed the newcomer in the doorway. "Just coming on?"
"Yes, then a few days off," the other man smiled as he headed to the lockers.
"Have a good one," the first man said, as he continued, almost colliding with a nurse on the way.
The nurse, Julia Bouvier, had worked at the hospital Saint-Louis for five years. She was a dedicated nurse, on good terms with everyone. She and Kate had formed an efficient emergency team in the last few weeks. Kate had been appointed to ICU a day after Athos de la Fere had been brought in and had fitted in very well. She was very efficient and soon took the primary lead in the suite Athos had been allocated. Julia found herself a little in awe of her quiet manner and deferred to her quite quickly.
Now, Julia had headed toward the Porter's rooms on the ground floor with a list of equipment that needed shifting around on the ICU floor. Patients came and went and machines were constantly being moved between rooms and it had been deemed that the heavier equipment should be moved only by the porters prior to the technicians giving the staff clearance to use them.
The fact that several of the porters were female seemed to have escaped management's attention but it had been useful not to have to worry about that side of the job.
Ducking into the porter's room, she greeted one man, neatly side stepping out of his way.
"Going off shift?" she asked, smiling at him.
"At last," he replied, happily, allowing her to pass. "I have a new daughter at home and it's becoming difficult to be away from her during these long shifts."
"You get home then, Maurice," Julia said quickly. "I'll find someone else."
As he left with a grateful nod, she peered into the room and saw another porter at the bank of lockers, newly arrived and pulling on one of the requisite uniform brown coats.
"Oh, good timing," she cried, as he stood before an open locker.
"Can I borrow you for a little while?"
"Of course," the man smiled. "That is what I'm here for."
"Are you new?" she asked then, not remembering having seen him before.
"Not really," the man replied. "I work at the American Hospital, but I get seconded here now and again when there is sickness or holidays."
"Well, I am glad to see you," Julia smiled as she watched him fasten up the coat and sling his bag into the locker, locking the door and pocketing the key.
"Lead on," he smiled. "Where are we going today?"
"ICU," she replied, amicably.
He followed her out into the corridor and toward a waiting lift. He stepped aside, allowing her to enter first and watched as she pressed the button and the doors slid to a close.
Arriving on the ICU floor a few moments later, Julia led the way along the wide corridor, which held three rooms on each side. Wide sliding doors stood open at each one. He followed her into one of the rooms and she pointed out the first machine that needed transporting further down the corridor.
"These two need to go to the floor below. I'll write the room number for you and the name of the nurse who will sign for it."
"Fine," the man said, getting on with the job. The machine had been unplugged and was wrapped in plastic but it was on wheels, so it was easy to shift.
She led the way back into the corridor, apologising that she was not allowed to do this simple task, but he waved her off, amicably.
They passed three of the rooms on the left, each one empty.
"Not very busy," he said, as they entered a room opposite, also empty. He placed the machine where she wanted it and she handed him a slip of paper with the details she had promised, and pointed out the equipment that he needed to take to the floor below.
As they came out of the room, he noticed the room next to the one they had exited had an occupant.
"Julia" according to her name badge, was speaking, bringing him out of his reverie.
"Not in this wing, no," she replied. "But things change quickly around here."
"I can imagine. It's the same at the American," he said, as he collected what he needed and nodded as she left him to it.
Once finished, he made his way back to the lobby, having picked up his bag and left the brown coat on the hook where he had found it.
By the time Mendez left the building, he knew Athos was there. He knew which floor he was on and he knew which room. He knew the floor was quiet, and he knew he would have to move fast.
But not today. He had all the time in the world.
To be continued ...
