The Dark Stallion nodded. It’s getting boring now, he thought. He didn’t want to hear any of this crap anymore. Enough words, time for action.

“Want to come up?” she asked, as if she was reading his mind.

“I’d love to,” he said, smiling.

He followed her upstairs, into her apartment. Everything happened as he had expected. The hugs, the kiss and finally the sex. It was great. She had lots of energy. Her ex-husband cop was missing out, big time.

After their first orgasm, he let her rest and he reached for his messenger bag. It was small but big enough to contain all his equipment, including a video camera. He took it out, put it on a table across the room and press the REC button. It was now recording. Show time…

“Can we turn on the light?” he asked. “I want to see your beautiful face.”

“Sure,” she said, unaware of the camera.

He joined her in bed. They had sex one more time, when he asked her to turn around, on her stomach.

“Let’s play a little game,” he said, his voice as sensual and mysterious as possible.

“Okay,” she whispered, eyes closed.

He bent over and grabbed the handcuffs. At the same time, he discreetly took a hunting knife and slid it under her pillow. He had also brought a needle and some thread. When he was done with her, he’d planned to sew her vagina. That way, he would truly be her last. Forever.

“Do you trust me?” he said, grabbing her wrists behind her back.

“Yes,” she said.

“Good…”

With a devilish grin on his face, he handcuffed her, thinking that her ex-husband would never do the same to him.

Ever.

He would never be caught.

He sighed with pleasure as he heard the metallic sound of the handcuffs.

Click!

19

They were going nowhere. They were stuck in the unmarked police car, bumper to bumper on the highway. Lefort was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Sovann was texting his girlfriend. John was looking out the window. None of them talked about the failure they’d just encountered at Bourdot’s house.

“Want to take a look at this?” Lefort said, handing his cell-phone to John. “Pictures we took inside the house.”

John leaned forward. “I’ll have a look,” he said, grabbing the phone. He didn’t check it right away. Not ready for it. What could they possibly do with pictures of the house anyway?

He took his own cell-phone and called home. John had left without telling Claire that he had to go to work. She was still sleeping when Cécile had arrived. And she would wake up next to someone she had never seen before, a beautiful stranger, but still a stranger.

“Hello,” Cécile said.

“Hey, it’s John. How’s Claire? Did she wake up?”

“She did.”

“And? Was she scared?”

“No. She just looked at me and asked me who I was.”

“What did you say?”

“That I was your friend. She asked me if I was your friend from the restaurant.”

“What restaurant?”

“When you took her for lunch and I called you.”

“Oh yeah, right.”

“She even remembered my name. She asked me if I was Cécile. She’s smart.”

John smiled. Cécile told him not to worry. She had brought food and a few Disney movies.

“Thank you,” John said.

He hung up and finally took a look at the pictures from Lefort’s cell-phone. He quickly browsed until he stopped before the portrait of a man: good-looking, in his late thirties, very elegant, charismatic. Gérard Bourdot was definitely a gentleman, and John instantly knew why women fell for him. His physique was deceptive. Behind the mask of the perfect man was a hardcore murderer.

John kept looking at him. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off the picture. There was something different about him. Nothing wrong really, but something… unusual. John zoomed in and squinted at the photo. And then, he saw Bourdot’s eyes and knew why he looked so outstanding. His eyes didn’t have the same color. He had one brown eye… and one blue eye. It sounded like déjà vu.

He has only one blue eye, John repeated to himself, trying to remember why he thought he had heard that before.

He has only one blue eye…

Then, the rest of the sentence flashed into his mind. “Like a pirate?” he had said to Claire.

Everything became crystal clear. John’s heartbeat accelerated and he started sweating. Claire. The man she didn’t like. One blue eye, Julie’s date, Julie’s new friend, Julie’s job, fund manager, big bank, divorced, attractive. This meant target and death.

Oh my God, John thought. Julie is having a date with the Dark Stallion right now! She’s the next victim!

“Son of a bitch!” John screamed.

20

Sovann turned around. “What’s wrong, John?” he said.

“Lefort!” John said. “I know where he is! I know where to find Bourdot!”

“What?” Sovann said.

Lefort looked at him in the rear-view mirror. “Are you sure?” he said. “We don’t need another fiasco for tonight. I’ll look like an idiot if I have to report two failed attempts in one night.”

“I’m telling you, it’s him,” John said. “He’s having a fucking date with my ex-wife right now! Put the siren on!”

“How do you know?” Lefort said.

“Shut up, Lefort, and just do it!” Sovann yelled at him.

“I just know it, now get us out of here,” John said. “If you don’t move your ass right now, my daughter will lose her mother. Go!”

“Come on, Lefort!” Sovann said. “Sounds like an emergency to me. Is it right enough for you this time?”

Lefort glared at Sovann and shook his head. “Don’t push me, kid,” he said as he put the siren on.

A blue light flashed in the night and the cars on the highway started to pull over to create a way for the unmarked police car. Lefort called his men on the radio, telling them they had a new lead.

John called Julie’s cell phone. He waited, feeling his heart beat in his chest. Then a female voice told him to leave a message. He hung up and tried again. Same result. She was probably too busy with the Dark Stallion.

Within fifteen minutes, they were in Paris. They stopped their cars in the middle of the street and rushed to the massive wooden doors of Julie’s building.

“What’s the code?” a police officer asked John.

“25A44,” John said.

The man typed the code and they heard a beep.

“Doesn’t work,” he said.

“Shit, they changed it,” John said, knocking his fingers on the doors to measure their density by the sound. “These doors are huge. The battering ram will be useless.”

“Come on!” Sovann said in frustration. He went to the trunk of the car and came back with a shotgun. “Guys, out of the way!”

He pulled the trigger once. Twice. The sound of the explosions was terrible. Dust and pieces of wood flew in the air. People in the streets were running, screaming, scared and calling for the police. But the door of the building was open.

Sovann looked at Lefort. “Don’t start lecturing me,” he said. “I know this isn’t right. But it works.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Lefort said, suppressing a smile.

“Come on, guys!” John said. “Fifth floor, stairs on your left!”

The group of cops climbed up the stairs four by four. First floor. The blood was pumping in their veins. Second floor. Their muscles tensed, ready for action. Third floor. They were going so fast that John started to feel dizzy. Fourth floor. Almost there.

“Wait,” John said, raising his fist in the air to signal his team-mates to stop. “No more noise. We have to take him by surprise.”

Everybody nodded. They kept walking as fast as possible, in silence. Discretion was key.

Fifth floor.

John drew his weapon.

“Which door?” the man with the battering ram whispered.

John motioned to his right. The man nodded, took position and slammed the door open.