“Nigerian kidnappers, Tunisian kidnappers. What does any of it have to do with Warren and the embezzled money?”
She pulled her attention from the side-view mirror to look at him. “I’m not sure this is the time to worry about any inconsistencies. They’re gaining on us.”
“Make sure your seat belts are buckled tight.” Sam hit the gas pedal. The Audi RS shot forward, leaving the other car far behind. There was no way the SUV could match their speed on the curves without rolling over. Even so, he didn’t relax until they reached the city, then the hotel, where security had been beefed up to quell the fears of the other guests after the earlier kidnapping attempt.
As they strolled past the armed guards at the front entrance, Sam took Remi’s arm and looked at Lazlo, saying, “You have to admit, no one’s getting past the guards in the lobby.”
Remi smiled at the uniformed men as Sam held the door for her and Lazlo. “Back to the ‘something incredibly wrong’ thing,” she said as they crossed the lobby toward the elevator. “Exactly what do we have wrong?”
“The order of everything.” He pressed the elevator button. The door opened and they stepped on. “Like I said before, I think it all started here. Someone here contacted Makao and his gang.”
Remi looked at him as they rode up to the top floor. “Warren? But he’s dead.”
“Yes,” Lazlo said. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t start this nightmare. Only that he’s not the one finishing it. And if anyone wants my opinion, I quite suspect that he didn’t fall. Nor did he kill himself. It’d be nice to know what evidence they have.”
“Exactly,” Sam said. “I’m worried that doesn’t bode well for Dr. LaBelle.”
Remi glared at him. “This is all your fault, Fargo.”
“How’s it my fault?”
“None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t discovered that someone was skimming money.”
“I distinctly recall you helping me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have had I’d known Renee might get arrested. I’m not letting my friend go to jail for something she didn’t do. You need to do something.”
Lazlo pulled his key card from his wallet. “As knackered as I am, I’ll let you two work out the details. I’m going to bed.”
“Good night, Lazlo,” Remi said as he continued down the hall. She turned back to Sam, her green eyes troubled. “So how are you going to fix this?”
Sam put the safety lock on the door behind them and took out his phone, saying, “Renee doesn’t need me to fix this. She’ll need an attorney.”
“And where are you going to find one of those at this hour?”
“I’m not. But I’ll bet Rube has a connection at the U.S. embassy who can help until we do find one.”
As promised, rube set up a meeting with an official from the embassy, Brian Torres, at a coffeehouse not too far from the police department. The solemn-faced official was there when the Fargos, Lazlo, and Renee arrived.
“Thanks for coming at such short notice, Mr. Torres,” Sam said.
“As requested, I was able to make a few inquiries into the nature of why the police are interested in seeing Dr. LaBelle. Why don’t we sit?”
As they walked toward an empty table, Renee leaned toward Remi and, lowering her voice, said, “Are all embassy officials this serious?”
“I think it’s in the contract.”
Once they were seated, Renee said, “I’m assuming, Mr. Torres, that this is all routine and my friends are being overcautious.”
He showed no emotion. “In this case, their instincts are correct. The police believe that Warren Smith was murdered.”
“Murdered?” She stared at him a moment. “Who would do that?”
“Possibly someone who had a grievance with him. I’m sorry to say, Dr. LaBelle, they believe that person is you.”
“Me? But …”
“They plan to arrest you when you arrive at the police station. I will, of course, accompany you.”