“Of course I’m open to hear,” Brian said. “Fire away.”
“When we first met, I believe you told me your mother had gotten you a French passport when you were a child. Do I remember correctly, or have I dreamed that up?”
Instead of answering, Brian leaned over and opened the middle drawer of his desk. Reaching in and rustling through the contents, he extracted a burgundy-colored pamphlet and plopped it on the desktop. The front of the passport was embossed with gold lettering and an impressive seal. “Voilà,” he said.
“Parfait! That means you are a French citizen.”
“So?” Brian questioned. “You’re not thinking we can sanctuary in France, are you?”
“Yes, I am,” Jeanne insisted. “I assume you recall the saga about the film director Roman Polanski.”
“Vaguely,” Brian said. “I’m not much of a film buff, and I don’t think I could name any of the films he directed. Why do you ask?”
“Do you recall that he’s a fugitive from US criminal justice?”
“Now that you mention it, I do. What’s the point?”
“The point is that France doesn’t extradite its citizens to the US,” Jeanne continued. “And Roman Polanski is living proof. He fled the US awaiting sentencing on five criminal charges, including rape.”
“Interesting,” Brian admitted. He immediately warmed to the idea of finding sanctuary in France. It would be immeasurably more rewarding on just about every conceivable level than being restricted to Cuba, especially a Cuban prison, which wasn’t out of the question.
“I’m not a lawyer,” Jeanne continued, “and we could still eventually be subject to arrest and prosecution, but it would be in France, not here in the US. In France I’m certain public opinion would be far more kindly in our favor. French people will be outraged at our stories. I certainly would have been.”
“We’d still need to hide out, at least in the short run and maybe for a month,” Brian countered. “How would that work?”
“We could hide out in Camargue,” Jeanne suggested. “It’s really off the beaten path, and my family has several isolated, deserted farmhouses that were acquired with large tracts of grazing land. One of them I remember isn’t that far from one of the towns, called Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, which is close to the sea. It’s actually very beautiful in its own fashion. Do you like to ride horses?”
Brian laughed in spite of himself. It suddenly seemed vaguely humorous under the circumstances to be asked if he liked to ride horses as part of a plan to off two healthcare executives. “That’s something I haven’t done much of,” he admitted. “But I suppose I could learn to like it.”
“My family has a lot of horses,” Jeanne said. “It’s the main way to get around in Camargue. I started riding when I was five or six. Regardless, I think France is our best bet. When the authorities investigate, it’s going to lead to you, not me, for multiple reasons. First, your disappearance is going to ring all sorts of alarm bells, especially given that you’ve just lost a wife and a child. And you have the skills and means. My medical horror story is old and won’t draw any more attention than any of the other almost five hundred cases. And right now, since I’m not working and have lost my business, I could leave tomorrow, and no one would notice or care, except maybe for a few friends and Riley’s family. But that will be easy to take care of, as I can just say that I’ve had enough of America, and I’m returning to my home country, case closed.
“So here’s what I propose. On the evening or night in question we make separate air arrangements, so we’re not associated, and we fly separate routes to some major European city, like Frankfurt or Madrid or Rome, just not France. I rent a car and pick you up, which ends your tracking, meaning Interpol won’t have much to go on. And then we drive to Camargue. Until they find you, which isn’t likely as long as we’re discreet, I doubt I’ll even be a suspected accomplice.”
For a moment Brian was dumbfounded as he went over the details of what Jeanne had proposed. It was brilliant, and he couldn’t help but be impressed. He’d been mulling over hypothetical thoughts like this for days, namely, how to keep the media enthralled enough to have a major impact on the healthcare system. But Jeanne had come up with a terrific plan of escape and sanctuary in minutes. “That’s a great idea,” he admitted once he found his voice. “It’s perfect. Let’s start planning and see how we feel. I imagine the planning process alone will be therapeutic for me.”
“For me, too,” Jeanne agreed, sitting back in her chair. “Where do we start?”
Chapter 36
September 3
Turning left off Broadway, Brian drove up the long driveway leading to MMH Inwood. He and Jeanne were in the Subaru. He had merely told Camila he was going out for a drive, which she had accepted without question. In many respects she was as devastated as Brian over Juliette’s death and had been trying to help Aimée and Hannah with the plans for the wake.
“You know what a Maybach looks like, don’t you?” Brian asked as they crested the small hill and the whole hospital and the modest, outside parking area came into view. When she had asked him how they would start, he’d told her that they had to find out where each target lived by following them home. They had flipped a coin to see who would be first, and Charles Kelley had won.
“I suppose,” Jeanne said, but in truth she wasn’t certain. She wasn’t a car person. For her they generally all looked the same except that some were larger than others.
“Nope, it’s not here,” Brian said. To find Kelley’s Maybach, he had assumed they’d have to drive to the East Side, where MMH Midtown was located. Yet on the slight chance the CEO might have been on one of his relatively infrequent visits to Inwood, Brian thought the ten minutes it would take to check was worth it. Discovering he wasn’t there didn’t faze Brian, and he used the hospital turnaround to head back down to Broadway.
“How long do you estimate the planning stage will take?” Jeanne asked as they headed south on the Henry Hudson Parkway running alongside the Hudson River. “Now that we have officially started, I’m eager to get this done.”
“It all depends on what we find,” Brian said. “I’m relatively confident they live in the ritzy metropolitan areas of either Long Island, New Jersey, or southern Connecticut. And, frankly, the ritzier the better, where homes are widely separated from each other with expansive lawns and private outdoor sports facilities, like swimming pools and tennis courts. That’s what I’m counting on. It would also be nice if their homes weren’t too far apart to make logistics easier, especially since we’re obligated to do both in the same night. But we’ll have to take what we get.”
“At least we have the rifle,” Jeanne said. “That’s the key piece of equipment, but I suppose you could always get one.”
“It would not be hard,” Brian agreed. “Whatever we do need, I’m sure I can get now that I’ve got access to ESU Headquarters. For instance, if we end up having to break and enter, they’ve certainly got all the assault tools we’d need. I’ll feel guilty about taking advantage of Deputy Chief Comstock’s hospitality, but this is important. Honestly, giving up the camaraderie of the ESU might be the only thing besides my family that I will miss after all this is said and done.”
“What do you think the chances are that we’ll have to do a home invasion?” she asked.
“No way to guess. As I said, it will depend on what their living arrangements are. But if we do, that’s where your role will be key. Tell me this: If we do have to go into one or both homes, do you have the equipment you might need or will you have to obtain it?”