Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

made her and Joseph Ambrose the offers they couldn’t refuse. Something in the lawsuit must have tipped her off. Fantroy had reviewed the lawsuit ad nauseum. One could read whatever they wanted into it, but ICJ judges were not armchair conspiracy theorists. Sydney Dumas must have known something else that pertained to the case. But what?
    Nathan was convinced that Sydney didn’t see or hear Ambrose’s murder, but Fantroy had another theory. He thought about what he knew of Sydney Dumas. She was the adopted daughter of a French professor who decided to follow in her father’s footsteps before being selected for the ICJ. It was assumed that she didn’t know of The Group’s existence. Fantroy had to now assume differently. He also had to assume that she knew what The Group was planning.
    Fantroy reeled back to The Group’s meeting at the Schloss Velden hotel in Austria. Hideo Akimoto, a Bank of Japan official and foot soldier for The Group, insisted on the Schloss Velden for his disclosure. He also insisted that The Group rent out the entire hotel. Hideo was sure what he had to tell them needed the utmost privacy.
    Usually when The Group met, they rented entire floors of suites, even several floors of suites, to accommodate their numbers. That was standard protocol for groups attending large meetings and conferences. They had only commandeered an entire hotel once before during Fantroy’s tenure. It was a year to the day before the American dot com bust. The Group’s financiers had helped engineer it. They wanted to make sure everyone in The Group would benefit from it and reap their fair share.
    Fantroy remembered the breathtaking views of the Austrian Alps that the Schloss Velden offered. He remembered the gentle sounds of Lake Worthersee’s waters rolling into the rocky beach he walked along every morning during his visit. Even now, he could taste the crisp air. The hotel’s soothing experience was the perfect contradiction to Hideo’s staggering idea.
    Fantroy imagined the scenario at the time. Being able bring the United States, and consequently the world, to its knees without firing a single shot. Extraordinary. It was the instrument of change for which The Group had been waiting all these years. But to use it to their advantage would require careful planning and perfect timing. Their plans could not be leaked. Their actions could not be discovered.
    Fantroy had begun popping both Zanax and Zantac soon after his initiation into The Group. He swallowed a cocktail of the two and choked them down without a chaser while he thought of the consequences if Ms. Dumas reached civilization. If The Group’s actions were uncovered, the anonymous financiers and those born into the wealth and power of the world’s monarchies could simply deny accusations and continue living their privileged lives. But Fantroy was a political animal. He lived and died by headlines and public support. If their plan was exposed, he might as well be dead. But that’s why he was involved with The Group. He wanted to be above such pettiness. He wanted what his birthright did not give him.
    While the effects of the two pills couldn’t have taken effect so quickly, the mere act of ingesting them brought a sense of peace to Fantroy’s mind. He reminded himself that regardless of why Sydney Dumas was running, she had to be silenced before she reached anyone. Fortunately, Nathan Broederlam had been trained well enough to confirm out loud what Fantroy was thinking.
    “We will take every precaution necessary to hunt her down and …”
    Nathan stopped talking.
    “Nathan? Are you there?” Fantroy asked. But there was no answer. He looked at the phone on his eighteenth-century writing desk. The call timer continued ticking away. The connection with Nathan was still intact.
    “Nathan? Hello? Nathan?”
    Another voice came on the line, a woman’s voice. “Who is this?”
    It was Sydney Dumas. Fantroy slapped the phone down. Sydney Dumas was back in the monastery. She had overtaken Nathan. “What the hell is going on?” Fantroy said as if someone might suddenly appear in the room with all the answers. He stared into the darkness of a crystal clear London night as his brain immediately began dissecting the situation.
    He jammed his hand into his jacket pocket and retrieved a list of hastily scribbled phone numbers. He dialed the one at the bottom and anxiously waited.
    After six rings, a panting voice answered.
    “Taber here.”
    Even