Free Dead Line by Chris Ewan Page B

threats and intimidation tactics?’
    ‘You ask the wrong question,’ Philippe said.
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘You should ask how long the gang can resist my father. You should ask how they will cope with his threats.’
    Stephanie muttered something sour.
    ‘It’s true.’ Philippe wriggled into a hollow on the couch. He seemed relaxed and composed, as if he was settling in to watch a favourite movie. ‘My father is a formidable man. He has formidable friends. He will make these men see that they’ve made a mistake.’
    ‘Forgive me,’ Trent said, ‘but he didn’t seem so formidable when they pulled him from his car. He looked terrified. He was helpless. And you have to understand, this gang may beat your father. They may deprive him of food and water. They could treat him very badly.’
    ‘Then they would be fools. They would be dead men.’
    ‘ Dead men
?
 ’ Trent’s pulse quickened. He had to stop himself from leaning forwards in his chair. He was edging closer to something. Closer than he’d been so far.
    ‘That’s enough,’ Stephanie said, with venom.
    But Philippe wasn’t inclined to stop just yet.
    ‘Do you know how my father makes his money, monsieur ?’
    Trent had a reasonable idea. He knew something about the legitimate sources of Jérôme’s income. And he knew something about the illegitimate sources, too.
    ‘Tell me,’ he said.
    ‘He brokers yachts,’ Stephanie cut in. ‘He imports them and he sells them. This is all.’
    ‘It’s not all. He imports many things inside these yachts, too. Hidden things. From North Africa. The Middle East.’
    ‘Liar.’
    ‘You deceive yourself. You believe what you wish to believe.’
    ‘And you talk too much.’ Alain exhaled hard and unbuttoned his shirtsleeves, yanking them up his muscular forearms. He adjusted the strap of his gun holster and eased his neck from side to side, as if freeing a kink. ‘Your terrible father,’ Alain said flatly, like he’d heard Philippe riff off the theme too many times. ‘The monster who pays for your apartment, your business, the fast car that you drive like a fool when you drink.’
    Philippe flashed his teeth. ‘You defend him? Why?’
    Alain didn’t respond.
    ‘Perhaps it’s because you’d like us to see how loyal you are? Perhaps you wish us to believe that you don’t envy him?’ Philippe winked salaciously at Stephanie. Twirled a finger in the air. ‘That you don’t covet all that he has?’ He chuckled to himself. ‘Maybe you don’t want us to start asking ourselves if one day you might decide to take it all from him?’
    Alain grunted. ‘This is your big idea? That I helped these men to kidnap your father?’
    ‘I do not say it happened. Only that it’s possible. Your job was to protect him. And yet now look where he is. And look where you are. Sitting in his home. Making decisions that could set him free. Or not.’
    Alain rocked his head back against the curtain behind him. He gazed up at the ceiling and cursed in frustration.
    ‘Easy,’ Trent said. ‘We’re getting sidetracked.’ He cocked his thumb and pointed his finger at Philippe. ‘The important thing is that you’re telling me your father can handle the situation he finds himself in?’
    Philippe pursed his lips. He hummed. Then he nodded. He seemed absolutely convinced of it.
    ‘And you’re also telling me he’s not the most law-abiding of citizens.’
    ‘My father is a crook. I do not say that he’s a gangster, but he keeps company with dangerous men. He trades with them. Obtains things for them.’
    ‘Then tell me about his enemies.’
    ‘Enemies?’ Stephanie asked, as though appalled.
    ‘If he helps some dangerous men, it stands to reason there are others he creates problems for. The underworld in Marseilles is competitive. It’s brutal. Everyone knows that. Hell, that’s why a guy like Jérôme employs a bodyguard like Alain. It’s why he lives his life behind a high steel fence. Why he has security cameras and