The English Girl: A Novel

Number Ten is rather high at the moment.”
    “It’s about to get worse.”
    “No progress?” asked Seymour.
    “Actually,” said Gabriel, “I think I’ve found her. The question is, what do we do now?”
    T hey crossed the Petit Pont and walked in the esplanade outside Notre Dame while Gabriel quietly recounted what he had discovered thus far. That the man with whom Madeline Hart had lunched on the afternoon of her disappearance had called himself Paul. That Paul had hired a Marseilles-based smuggler named Marcel Lacroix to move Madeline from Corsica to the mainland. That Lacroix had negotiated an additional payment of one hundred thousand euros for his services, which was to be delivered by a man named René Brossard, in the French city of Aix. And that Brossard, upon the unsuccessful transfer of the money, had immediately driven into the mountains of the Lubéron, to an isolated agricultural valley with three villas.
    “You think Madeline is being hidden in one of the villas?”
    “René Brossard is a well-known Marseilles crime figure. Unless he’s decided to go into the winemaking business, there’s only one reason for him to be there.”
    Seymour shook his head. “The French police have been looking for her for more than a month,” he said after a moment, “and yet you managed to find her in five days.”
    “I’m better than the French police.”
    “That’s why I came to you.”
    Directly before them several young eastern Europeans were posing for a photograph with the cathedral in the background. Gabriel supposed they were Croatians or Slovaks but couldn’t be certain; he had no ear for the Slavic tongues. He nudged Seymour to the left, and they walked past the tourist cafés lining the rue d’Arcole.
    “You won’t mind if I ask you a few questions,” said Seymour.
    “The less you know, the better, Graham.”
    “Humor me.”
    “If you insist.”
    “How did you learn about Paul?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “Where’s Marcel Lacroix?”
    “Don’t ask.”
    “Who’s watching the villa?”
    “An associate.”
    “From the Office?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Well,” said Seymour, “that was informative.”
    Gabriel said nothing.
    “How much do you know about Paul?”
    “He speaks fluent French with an accent, changes his appearance to suit his needs, and apparently he likes movies.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    Gabriel explained how Marcel Lacroix had seen Paul at the Cannes Film Festival, though he left out the part about the duct tape, the near drowning, and the bullet that Christopher Keller, a renegade SAS man whom the British government believed to be dead, had fired into Lacroix’s brain.
    “Paul sounds like a professional.”
    “He is,” said Gabriel.
    “He befriended Madeline before kidnapping her? Is that your theory?”
    “Obviously, they were acquainted at the time of her disappearance,” Gabriel said. “Whether they were friends, lovers, or something else is the topic of some debate. I suppose the only way we’ll know for certain is to ask Madeline.”
    “How long have you had the house under surveillance?”
    “Less than twenty-four hours.”
    “How long will it take you to establish whether she’s there or not?”
    “We may never know for certain, Graham.”
    “How long?” Seymour pressed.
    “Another twenty-four hours.”
    “That would leave only one more day until the deadline expires.”
    “Which is why you have no choice but to take my information and give it to the French.”
    They rounded a corner into a quiet side street.
    “And what should I say to the French when they ask how I got this information?” Seymour asked.
    “Tell them a little bird told you. Make up a convincing cover story about a source or a communications intercept. Trust me, Graham, they won’t press you on the source.”
    “And if they’re able to rescue her? What then?” Seymour quickly answered his own question. “They will undoubtedly discover that she was having an affair with the prime minister. And then, because they are French, they will rub Lancaster’s nose in it as publicly as possible.”
    “They might not.”
    “Lancaster would never take that chance.”
    “You asked me to find her,” said Gabriel, “and I believe I’ve found her.”
    “And now I’m asking you to bring her out.”
    “If I go in there, people will die.”
    “The French will assume it was one gang of Marseilles criminals killing members of another gang. It