“I assure you, I have no reason to purchase a nuclear warhead. And as far as I’m aware, I don’t know anyone who does. Yes, I have wealthy friends, but I do not associate with terrorists.”
Emily let out a long sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that. We were hoping you might be of assistance, perhaps had heard something that could have given us a clue.”
“I apologize for letting you down.”
“Well, thank you for your time, Monsieur Dufort. I’m sorry if I wasted it.” She stood up and made as if she was getting ready to leave.
Dufort stood as well. “You don’t have to hurry away so quickly,” he said. “If you want, you could stay for dinner.”
Emily tried hard not to jump on him and beat him to death right then and there. The guy was actually hitting on her, asking her to stay for dinner. He had nerves, she’d give him that. But inviting a government agent to stay longer was not something a person with something to hide usually did. That thought struck home and instantly presented cause for concern.
If Dufort was willing to let Emily stay at the mansion for an extended period, that meant the girls, including her agent, had been taken somewhere else. At least that was the conclusion to which her logic brought her.
More questions flooded her mind. Where had the girls been taken? What had he done with her agent? She needed to have a look around. Until the invitation to dinner, Emily wasn’t sure how she could make that happen without completely blowing the real reason she was there. If that happened, her agent would be dead for sure, and all the girls would be lost.
Her mind drifted for a few seconds, wondering about Sean’s involvement with Dufort. The Frenchman was particularly interested in something Sean was looking for. Emily decided to use Dufort’s interest in history as a wedge into a new line of questioning. Maybe there would be something she could use against him.
She put on her most flirty facial expression and smiled. “I think government work can wait for a few more hours.”
Chapter 29
Baston finished bringing out the assortment of dishes and placed them on the table. The last were a few sauces to accompany the extravagant dinner of herb-roasted chicken, fire-grilled asparagus, and stuffed peppers.
While Dufort and his guest waited for the food to be prepared, he’d given Emily a tour of the mansion, at her request.
She’d played the curiosity card as best she could, but it had yielded nothing. Emily had checked every nook and cranny in the enormous home. She’d carefully kept her eyes open for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary: a sign of a struggle, a book that was out of place, a secret door, anything that might lead to the missing women. She paid particularly close attention to sounds that could betray Dufort. In spite of all the effort, she came up empty handed.
There was no sign of the women in the Frenchman’s home.
Emily cut into the chicken with a sharp knife and dipped it into the yellow glaze Baston had drizzled onto her plate. She put the meat in her mouth and savored the bite.
Dufort may be an evil criminal, she thought, but he has one heck of a good cook.
“How is the chicken?” he asked, forking a few pieces of asparagus into his mouth.
She finished swallowing and smiled. “Delicious. Did your butler make this?”
“As a matter of fact, he did,” Dufort answered with a small amount of pride. “Baston is a man of many talents, some of them hidden; others are more obvious.”
Emily cut a few heads from the asparagus and stabbed at them with her fork. “You have a beautiful home, Monsieur…”
“Call me Gerard. No need for pleasantries now, my dear.”
“Very well, Gerard.” She cringed at the thought. Every piece of her being wanted to draw the weapon from her jacket and empty the clip into the man’s body. Instead, she continued with her point of conversation. “You obviously have a keen interest in history, along with an impressive collection of items that must be worth quite a bit of money.”
“That would be an understatement,” he said in a tone that didn’t sound bratty. Rather, he made it seem like a burden.
“Yes, well, I am wondering how it is you come by these artifacts. Do you procure them at auction, or do you find them yourself?”
Dufort sliced a piece of chicken and scooped it into his mouth. He chewed for a few seconds and then looked under the rim of his eyelids, keeping his face pointed down at the plate. “Some of them are purchased at auction. Others,” he admitted, “are not got so easily, or legally.”
She was surprised at the honesty of his confession, but let him keep talking.
“Your original line of questioning gives way to your knowledge of how I attain some of my priceless pieces.” He reached over and took a glass of white wine, putting it to his lips for a moment before putting it back on the white tablecloth. “Yes, I know some people in the black market, Miss Starks. But only in the realm of items I deem historically significant. I don’t know anyone who sells nuclear arms or, indeed, weapons of any kind. So, if you were here to arrest me for buying smuggled artifacts, I would invite you to contact my attorney. He will provide enough paperwork for you to sift through until the end of your career.”
She was shocked at how suddenly Dufort had turned the conversation from polite to offended. It was a classic redirection she’d seen a million times from high-end criminals. Emily let him believe that she believed his little game. “I apologize, Gerard. That isn’t why I’m here. I don’t care about your artifacts or artwork. It seems you’ve taken good care of those things.”
“I have. It is my belief that they are better off here, with someone who can appreciate them, than in front of the gawking hordes of tourists and onlookers who can’t possibly take any satisfaction from what they are seeing.” He started to adjust his demeanor to a less offended one.
“Please, I am terribly sorry. I was just curious. I assure, you, I am not the art police.”
He shook it off and cut off a section from the red bell pepper on his plate. “It is fine. Perhaps I overreacted.”
“No, the fault is mine,” she reassured him. Emily pondered her next words carefully. She didn’t want to give away anything. If she did, it could prove fatal. “Is there anything you’ve got your eye on?”
Dufort glanced up from his food and tilted his head to the side with a flirtatious expression. “Present company not included?”
She shook her head and pretended to accept the compliment with a bashful grin.
“There is something I’ve had my eye on for a long time,” he said after gulping down another sip of wine.
“Oh? What is it?” She put on her best curious face.
He shrugged. “It’s a weapon from a long time ago. I think it will be the final, crowning piece to my collection.”
“Sounds pretty impressive. What is it? A sword? A spear? An arrow?” She tried to gauge his reaction to the different questions. His face never faltered.
“Something like that,” he rolled his shoulders. “Perhaps when I have it, you can come to see it.”
“I’d like that,” she lied, but didn’t push the issue further. There would be no cracking him tonight. The entire operation was a failure.
The rest of their dinner went by with conversation about the typical things people in the upper echelon enjoyed discussing. The symphony, opera, art, and fine wine were all topics Dufort seemed to have an opinion on.
Emily knew enough about all of them to hold her own, although during the entire talk, all she wanted to do was burst out of her chair and run back out into the street. That wasn’t an option, so she endured the laborious discussion until the food and wine had been consumed and her host seemed ready to release her.