Monday 15th February
It had gone nine o'clock in the morning and the mornings sun struggled to pierce through a thick haze. Paul and Jasmine drove from Rouen to Paris along the A13 the oldest of Frances motorways built in 1946. They were silent the whole way as they had been the previous day. It took an hour and a half to get to Paris.
Jasmine dropped Paul off at her apartment before ringing her boss to ask if they could meet in private. They both agreed to meet at eleven thirty at a cafe near the Eiffel Tower.
She smiled and changed her clothes and she wore black trousers and a dark blue top.
Paul looked to Jasmine with his eyes full of concern "Be careful."
Jasmine responded as she left the apartment "Don't worry about me and don't answer the door. I maybe gone a few hours but there is food in the fridge."
Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly and she drove her black Peugeot through the winding streets of Paris. She was tense and eager to She got to the base of the Eiffel Tower and saw her boss, Marcus Holgar, a long member of the Parisian police force of thirty years. He wore civilian clothes and wore a long dark grey coat.
He looked to her as she got closer "Good to see you again."
Jasmine embraced him and she said "Likewise."
They both walked silently to Cafe De Mars located in the Latin Quarter and it was close to the Eiffel Tower.
People young and old walked passed by the cafe. There was an air of tension and unfinished questions. Jasmine looked around anxiously hoping that they hadn't been followed. Both of them sat silently as a waitress returned with their coffees. Jasmine stirred her coffee with her spoon clinking on the porcelain rim. Her boss could see that she was anxious.
Marcus spoke first "What's up?"
Jasmine responded "Its my uncle. I don't know if you heard he was killed a few days ago."
Marcus nodded "I know I heard."
Jasmine looked around as she sipped her coffee "I went to the UK and tracked down the journalist covering Giovanni's death." uncover why her uncle was killed.
The day was bright with a clear winters sky. The air was crisp and cold and people walked the streets of Paris wearing hats, scarves and gloves.
Marcus was intrigued "What did you discover?"
Jasmine cupped her hands around her coffee cup as she sat back in her chair "At first nothing. The journalist I was working with wrote a piece in his local paper. When he started to dig further he was threatened."
Marcus face turned to surprise and concern "Jasmine who did this?"
Jasmine looked to him for a moment and she looked around warily "I rather not say but I need information on a group, they call themselves the Brethren. I know very little and all my research has turned up nothing."
Marcus put down his coffee and looked at Jasmine with a blank expression "The Brethren. I should have known. You are best leaving this alone. They are not people you want to get involved with."
Jasmine felt like she was being insulted "What do you mean?"
Marcus tried to play down her questions "You have to be very careful. They have people in Paris and throughout Europe and are an elusive group few know about. Those that do are either dead or lucky to be alive."
Jasmine continued to insistent "I have to know why my Uncle was killed. We got his killer but it doesn't explain the reason why he died."
Marcus was eager for her to leave things alone "That as I said should be enough. Listen to me as a friend go home and take a few days off and please let this Brethren thing go."
Marcus got up and he was eager to finish the conversation "Listen I have to go."
Jasmine nodded "Okay."
Marcus looked to her in sympathy and he said "Come back to me in a few days."
Jasmine watched Marcus as he crossed the street towards the Eiffel Tower. She was disappointed and he had hoped the one person she trusted would help and wondered if he was holding out to protect her. This was a possibility she did not want to entertain but she knew it made sense. If her boss was reluctant to get involved then the Brethren must be more dangerous than she had first realised.
Jasmine stayed in the cafe for another ten minutes before heading back to her car. The air was still crisp with large looming grey clouds in the distant.
One of Tyson's Parisian contacts stood on the edge of the Eiffel Tower car park as Marcus walked passed her. She had sat across the table from Jasmine and had been told to keep an eye on her and to do nothing else. The contact had followed Jasmine to her car and remained in the distance as the black Peugeot drove off. The contact a large woman in her fifties reached into her bag for loose change.
She looked and saw a black phone box was nearby and rang a private number known only to a few people. The phone rang and there was an answering machine message. She left the details of the conversation and where it was held. As the woman spoke Oliver listened intently and his eyes narrowed but their was a sense of relief that Jasmine was not any closer to the truth and her boss still remained in the dark.
However Oliver knew she would be back and he sat in his London office looking out onto St Paul's Cathedral in the distance. He knew Tyson had asked him to take care of it. As he looked across white seagulls flew in the distance.