When Simon returned to the hotel, his seat in the gallery was available. He read a copy of the New York Times Global Edition, keeping one eye on the lobby. Fifteen minutes passed before he spotted the chief of security, bustling across the lobby in the company of another Middle Eastern guest. Their manner was serious yet intimate and bespoke a relationship as much personal as professional. The two men stopped at the concierge’s desk. The head of security made his goodbye and headed Simon’s way.
“Excuse me.” Simon stood as the hotel security man passed. “Do you have a moment?”
The man stopped at once, giving him his full attention. “Of course,” he said, trained smile at the ready. “How may I help?”
“My name is Riske. I’m a guest of the hotel. I was hoping we might speak.” He offered his business card, which stated his affiliation with a firm called Special Protective Services and Investigations and listed addresses in London, Hong Kong, and New York. “Mr.…?”
“Delacroix,” he replied, coming to attention. “Jean-Jacques Delacroix.”
“It’s a matter of some importance. If you’ll allow me to explain.”
Delacroix studied the card, then looked Simon up and down. “Follow me.”
Delacroix’s office was located in a suite behind the reception. The room was small, windowless, and orderly. He studied the card before sitting, glancing at Simon as if deciding whether the man matched the profession. Finally, he gestured to a chair. “Please,” he said. “I’m always happy to be of service to a fellow professional.”
As Simon sat, he took in the photographs decorating the wall. There was Delacroix in combat gear, arms around fellow soldiers, looking weary and victorious. By the location, Simon guessed somewhere in Africa. There was a framed diploma from the military academy at Saint-Cyr. And a commendation from France’s defense department with a medal attached nearby.
“You served?” he asked.
“Parachute brigade. Twenty years. And you?”
“In a different field,” Simon answered, allowing Delacroix to imagine what he wished.
“Am I correct in guessing this has something to do with the prince?”
“Yes,” said Simon, then in a bit of impromptu: “Did my office call ahead? They’re a bit rattled about this one.”
“No. They didn’t blow your cover, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t stopped answering questions about the robbery since it happened.”
“I’m sorry to make matters worse.”
“That’s why I’m here,” said Delacroix. “Fire away.”
Simon cleared his throat and assumed what he considered to be his professional voice, a little deeper, a little smoother. “First, I must ask that you treat our conversation as absolutely confidential.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry to be so blunt, but it’s best to get these things out of the way.”
The Frenchman made a show of spreading his hands. A man with nothing to hide.
Simon paused before continuing, studying Delacroix as if deciding whether he could trust him. “My firm has been retained by persons with close ties to Saudi Arabia. I don’t need to tell you the position he holds in his country.”
“Naturally.”
“What you may not know is that at the time of the robbery, he was carrying sensitive government documents. Highly confidential. Were anyone unfriendly to our interests—and those include the interests of France—to get their hands on them, the damage would be incalculable.”
Delacroix nodded, giving away nothing.
“He didn’t mention anything about these to you?”
“No.”
Simon considered this, nodding in a gesture of some relief, before assuming a new tack. “The prince is a frequent guest. Is that correct?”
“He stays with us from time to time.”
“Once a year?”
“Twice, at least. Often four or five times.”
“And it is his practice to travel with large sums of money?”
“As do many of our guests.”
“So you’re familiar with his security arrangements?”
“Intimately. It’s my job to ensure his safety and that of his family and his possessions when he is a guest.”
“I imagine he keeps the money in the hotel’s safe.”
“I can’t comment on the prince’s actions. We do, however, dispose of a strong room to keep our guests’ valuables secure at all times. It’s small but impregnable. Guests make use of it to store their jewelry and other items of particular value.”
“And I understand he travels with his own staff when he leaves the hotel.”
“Team of five. Four junior, who vary each trip. One senior, who’s been with him forever. A Punjabi. Name of Vijay.”
“Do you coordinate arrangements with this Vijay?”
“The prince prefers to work directly with me. He respects my expertise in these matters.”
“Best to keep it between two professionals.”
“It’s the wise thing to do.”
“I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I’m speaking with you. One professional to another.” Simon scooted to the edge of his chair. “What other arrangements did you provide? Check his room for bugs? Countersurveillance sweeps?”
“Again, I can’t answer for the prince, but those are services that can be provided to any client upon request.”
“And if you had provided those services,” Simon went on, “hypothetically…did you have occasion to alert him of any unwanted attention?”
“If we had, the prince would have had nothing to worry about…hypothetically.”
“No undue attention?”
“None that I’m aware of.”
Simon stifled a smile. It was his way of thanking Delacroix, before moving on to a more delicate topic. “What about transport to and from the airport?”
“Ensuring safe passage of our clients upon their arrival or departure is another service the hotel offers. Arrangements are made by the hotel concierge. We use the same livery service for all our clients.”
“Based on your recommendations?”
Delacroix shrugged. “It’s necessary to vet any firm the hotel employs on behalf of its clients.”
“And you’ve been using this particular firm for how long?”
“Many years. We’ve never had a problem.”
Simon rubbed a finger across his chin, eyes narrowed. Then he leaned closer and placed his arms on Delacroix’s desk. “I have a question about the route the prince took to the airport Sunday night.”
“Yes?”
“I lived in Paris years ago. I didn’t have a car, but I got to know my way around. Me, personally, I never would have driven all the way across the city when the entrance to the highway is only a kilometer away. The route taken by the prince left him far more vulnerable to an attack than otherwise.”
“Alas, I was not involved in planning the prince’s route.”
“Really? A moment ago you said you were intimately involved in all his security arrangements. Wouldn’t such arrangements extend to finding the safest route possible to the airport?”
Delacroix sat straighter, shoulders stiff. A man accused. “The prince mapped his own route to the airport.”
“Without consulting you?”
“No. As I said, the hotel provided for the livery, then it was up to him.”
“So you have no idea why he decided to take this particular route?”
“None. My responsibility for him, his family, and his affairs stopped the moment he left the hotel.”
Simon challenged his gaze. “Even after all these years?”
Delacroix stared back, a current of dislike flashing behind his eyes. He placed his hands on his desk and stood. “If there’s anything else, Mr. Riske.”
But Simon remained firmly seated. “A crime has taken place,” he stated. “Documents relevant to the security of the West are missing. The time for discretion is past.”
“What are you trying to say, Mr. Riske?”
“You and I both know that the criminals had advance knowledge of the prince’s route.”
“And I told the police as much,” replied Delacroix. “Clearly, it was an inside job.”
“So no one approached you?”
“No. And had they, I would have been the first to tell the police.”
Simon waited, eyes fixed on Delacroix. Finally, he stood. “That’s all I need. Thank you.”
“Any time. I’m sorry I could not be of more assistance.”
Simon waited for Delacroix to open the door, as he knew he would. As the Frenchman circled his desk and made his way to the door, Simon stepped forward a moment too soon and collided with him.
“Are you all right?” asked Delacroix, backing away.
“My mistake,” said Simon, ruffled. “Good morning.”
He did not look behind him as he walked down the corridor.