Hélène just let Daniel talk away and watched him write notes down on a pad of paper as he went along. It was the depth of the detail that impressed her more than anything else – more often than not, majorly important aspects, clues, associations or connections are missed during investigations because time simply hasn’t been taken to properly research all the available information to hand. With Daniel she noticed, everything was written down as well as being inside his head. He finished explaining his opinion but added that he had a few dead-ends that hadn’t provided him with any additional information.
“I just find it very hard to understand why a white stone with some symbols on it has become so important and why a number of people appear to have been killed over it for some reason. The three pieces of this puzzle that I cannot work out are frustrating me now, because if I can find the answers that relate to them, I can stop all of this.”
Hélène simply looked at him and asked what the three pieces of the puzzle were.
“Ah! You’ll have to be patient while I explain this. One of the assailants in my hotel room in Mirpur muttered ‘Belibasta’ as he breathed his last breath and I initially dismissed it as having any form of relevance, but Rifat Khan, my friend in Pakistan’s ISI, gave me some unconfirmed intelligence about a covert group allegedly working in and around the northern Pakistan border. This group, if it does exist, specialisies in the targeting of tourists, journalists, the curious and investigators nosing around sites that have a religious and historical past, and there does seem to be a frequent occurrence for people to die in bizarre accidents or get caught up in unfortunate violence once they start their fact-finding exercises.
All of that is very coincidental but when you start to study the recurrence factor of these so-called unfortunate accidents and incidences, it does make you question whether these events are being caused by an unknown force. The ISI information is very scant and minimal in detail, but it flags up a possible connection between a series of incidents being deliberately created to prevent people interfering, investigating or uncovering matters.
But the final piece of the puzzle came to me yesterday in Turkey. I had asked an archaeological professor about the circled tattoos found on the bodies of my assailants in Pakistan, and was told that these tattoos honour the memory of 63 Cathar followers who had been burned alive at a place referred to as ‘Prairie de la Brûlée’, the ‘Meadow of the Burned’ and can be found at Montségur. This Montségur features in a lot of history books, but it constantly crops up in this situation as being a place of some real importance, as well as also having tenuous connections to this white stone.”
Daniel watched as Hélène ran from the interview and down a corridor. He stood in the doorway and stared after her as she disappeared from view before returning to the table and continuing with rummaging amongst all the bits and pieces he had laid out. He was conscious that Hélène had re-entered the room and she approached him with her palm outstretched towards him displaying her mobile phone. An image was on its screen and Daniel adjusted his eyesight to look at it. He saw a clear glass block with a cross shape inside it. The cross was enclosed within a circle surrounded with a fleur-de-lis decorative design with the legend ‘Prairie de la Brûlée - 16ème mars 1244’ written underneath it.
She closed the door to the interview room and stood very close to him. “I’ve just photographed that image sitting on one of my colleagues desk’s here at Interpol.
His name is Lionel DeChevalier and he was the man that originally tasked me with identifying you and your two friends.”
Daniel studied the image on the mobile phone and then started to sift through his papers on the table.
“Hélène, I think this whole mystery has been getting looked at the wrong way round during investigation. I’ve always been identified as the connector to the stone and the subsequent events that have happened, but if we start to look at everything very differently, we should be able to find some answers. Let’s start with the stone. What do we really know about it? Absolutely nothing! I trip over and find the stone and it becomes something of interest to others. Who are these others? We don’t really know as yet but there is a distinct connection between them and this Lionel DeChevalier, here at Interpol, the original identity search that was made by you about me, the murders and car bomb in India, and then with the three men that were looking for the stone in Pakistan. And what then connects everything together is this cross. It appears as a body tattoo, and is even a desk ornament in an office in this building, but no-one seems to have been able to establish any connections or links yet. Why hasn’t this Lionel DeChevalier been questioned about what he knows and asked to tell us what he is involved in?”
“That is my fault. Once I began looking for information about you and your two friends, it all got out of hand when the brutal murders of Jnyandeep Medhansh and his grand-daughter had been discovered and you had become the prime suspect. I apologise.”
“Have you been able to find out anything at all about Lionel DeChevalier and his associations with this cross? There has to be something? Have you interviewed him yet and found out why he asked you to find out who I was?
Hélène’s total lack of any sort of response to these last few questions hadn’t gone un-noticed and Daniel now just shouted at her.
“Get this Lionel DeChevalier in here right now and I will interview him. He doesn’t know I am here, does he? It’ll throw him completely off guard if I suddenly appear and start to question him. Has anyone here carried out a relevant background check on him or even thought to analyse any of the recent data he has had access to? Telephone calls, e-mails, letters, files, folders? Has any of that been fucking checked out? Seriously? Are people investigating this properly? I’ve been reading up about this cross and also looking for information relating to this Path of Belibasta. The only real fact that I have been able to unearth is all about a man called Otto Rahn who worked for the Nazis in the 1930s and was hunting for the Holy Grail that the Cathars were supposed to have had as a treasure somewhere at Montségur. This Otto Rahn was convinced that the Holy Grail was removed from the fortress at Montségur shortly before it fell, and that the Cathar priest who spirited it away, was called Guilhèm Belibasta. These are really important clues because the cross that is found at the memorial site at Montségur, on the tattoos of the dead assailants, and Lionel DeChevalier’s perspex box are very similar to each other, and if we discover what the connection is, we will discover what this is all about. There has to be some sort of real urgency and concern with what you now do, because the Nazis were making similar investigations over 80 years ago, and those people didn’t mess about. Just like the people making their investigations now.”
Hélène asked him to leave the room with her and she took him through another door into a room with a large window. The window looked out across a large open-plan office and Hélène drew Daniel’s attention to the far corner.
“That’s Lionel DeChevalier sitting at his desk over in the corner. He’s been under observation for the last 48 hours or so but we haven’t been able to find anything untoward around his desk, on his computer or any of the files that he has been in contact with. My hands are tied with investigating him because he is classified as an Interpol employee and is therefore protected under French law. I would need to involve the judicial police (police judiciaire), as they are responsible for the handling of all penal law enforcement and investigations of crimes and felonies that fall under the authority of a Magistrate (Procureur de la République) in every case. Warrants have been issued for the searching of his car, his home and his work station, but I’m still waiting on the seizure notice applications being granted for us to be able to have official access to his mobile telephone, bank accounts and financial affairs. The powers of the French police are constrained by statute law, and accordingly, the rules of procedure depend on the stage of enquiries. At this moment in time, we only have a suspicion of there bein
g criminality on his part, and a very tenuous connection to having involvement in matters elsewhere because of an ornament sitting on his desk. It is all we have.”
“So why don’t you just go big-game hunting with him then? Bring him into an interview room with me and I’ll unsettle him by asking some really difficult questions to answer. He won’t be expecting an interrogation and he’ll definitely not be anticipating me to be here questioning him. “
“Big-game hunting?”
“Get him into an interview room on the pretext that you need his help. His vanity will make him want to help you because he thinks he is important and that you need his assistance. But you are really hunting him down with a clever trap, and before he can make an escape, I will have caught him with it and probably found some valuable information for you.”
She quickly cleared Daniel’s paperwork away from the table and placed a jug of water and some glasses down on the surface. The digital recorders were primed ready for interview and Hélène checked that the video cameras on the other side of the glass partition were operating and primed to record. She asked Daniel to sit down at the table and wait while she brought Lionel DeChevalier through to the room. Daniel positioned himself on one side of the table and waited patiently on her return.
The door opened and a tall thin man entered into the room with Hélène at his back. She asked him to sit down and introduced Daniel. Lionel DeChevalier was startled to discover that Daniel was sitting in front of him and constantly checked around the room to see what was happening. Beads of perspiration were running slowly down the side of his left temple that he anxiously wiped away when smoothing his hair back with his left hand. Daniel watched the man’s legs tremble as they nervously bounced while he fidgeted and squirmed while seated at the table. Lionel DeChevalier had been caught off guard by being brought into the interview room by Hélène and he was trying every possible trick to get out of the room. He lifted the jug of water and filled a glass to the rim and then drank it in three gulps. He filled the glass again and was about to empty it when Daniel asked him his first question.
“So Lionel, why did you ask Hélène to run an identity check on me through Interpol’s records? Why am I so important to you?”
Lionel just ignored the questions and started to protest about being questioned. “Why am I being questioned like this? What am I supposed to have done? I am a senior member of staff at Interpol and I demand to know on what authority you have to question me like this?”
Daniel pressed forward with his next questions.
“Have a look at these photographs Lionel. These are of tattoos that have been found inked on some dead bodies in Pakistan and the tattoos match the ornament on your desk. Are they not similar Lionel?” and Daniel threw the copies down on the table in front of Lionel. Lionel had become flustered with Daniel’s approach of a brusque and abrasive manner and seemed desperate to speak but steadfastly said nothing in response to any of the questions levelled at him. Hélène tried to cajole some information out of him but DeChevalier just ignored her questions. Daniel’s impatience at the lack of response from the man was growing and he now raised his voice.
“Who or what is Belibasta Lionel? Why were you allocating resources at Interpol to identify me? Why is the Cathar memorial at Montségur so important to you that you have a souvenir memento of their demise as a remembrance token on your desk? Come on Lionel, answer the bloody questions.”
Lionel just sat still at the table and looked at both Daniel and Hélène and said nothing. Daniel decided to try a final attempt to provoke a reaction from Lionel and aggressively turned on him.
“I really hope Lionel, that when justice finally decides to catch up with you, the full force of the law comes down from a large height and you never ever see the light of day again. How can you live with yourself and have the guilt of at least nine deaths on your conscience? I hope that when you do eventually meet your maker, there’s a heavy price to pay and your soul is tortured for eternity, you bastard!”
Daniel just stood up, gathered all the papers from the table and walked out of the room. Hélène followed him out and stood beside him on the other side of the one-way viewing glass.
“What do you think will happen now? He’s not saying anything and not reacting to any intimidation at all.”
Daniel just shook his head.
“I don’t know Hélène. If we were conducting this interview elsewhere or privately, I could be creative and physically force something out of him, but that’s not going to happen, is it? He’s not saying a word and not demonstrating any reaction to anything we have said or shown him, but he’s fully aware that we are on to him. It’s only a matter of time before someone finally makes a breakthrough in the investigation and can connect him to whatever this is all about. I would just let him stew and see how he reacts.”
Lionel started waving his right hand at the mirrored glass and gesticulating that he wanted someone to come into the room. Hélène left Daniel where he was and entered back into the room. After a brief conversation, she spoke to a security officer outside the room who then escorted Lionel down the corridor. Hélène re-appeared in the viewing room and explained that Lionel wished to use a rest-room and she had asked a security officer to escort him to the facilities at the end of the corridor.
Lionel waited outside the rest-room as the security officer quickly checked that it was empty. Once inside, Lionel locked the door behind him and then stared at his reflection in the mirror above a wash hand basin. He began to look around the toilet area and discovered what he was searching for. Set into the wall space between the toilet cubicles on his left and the long urinal to his right, sat three wash hand basins that were fixed onto the top of a long vanity unit. Underneath the wash hand basins, the vanity unit had a locked double door which Lionel manfully forced open to reveal a shelved store cupboard containing various industrial strength cleaning products and materials. After removing a number of assorted tubs and cans from the front of the shelves, he lifted out a purple 5 litre container of Lavendinogen, an alcohol based washroom bactericidal cleaner and descaling fluid.
With a lavender-perfumed scent, this substance offered the user a long lasting deodourisation in difficult environments and could be applied behind toilet bowls, around sinks, basins and urinals. Holding the tub in front of him, he read the product description label, and having satisfied himself that this Lavendinogen was indeed an inflammable substance, he unscrewed the top off the container, placed the plugs in the three sinks and poured the sweet-smelling fluid into them. After pulling handfuls of paper towels out from a wall dispenser, he proceeded to crumple them up into balls before placing them in the bowls of the three sinks. More of the paper towels were retrieved from the wall dispenser and then scattered around about himself as he covered all of the available surfaces and floor space. He reached into his right hand trouser pocket and removed a disposable cigarette lighter, rolled his thumb over the contraption’s spark wheel and depressed the gas-release valve button. A brightly blue and yellow flame briefly confirmed that the lighter was in working order and Lionel lifted the Lavendinogen container back up from the floor and poured the remaining liquid contents over his head and clothes. The purplish fluid pooled briefly at his feet until it was soaked up by the scattered paper towels lying on the floor. He turned and looked at his reflection once more in the mirror.
“Holy Father, please pardon the wrongdoers and forgive thine enemies and those who calumniate and accuse, and welcome thy humble servant in thy justice and send upon him thy grace and thy holy spirit.”
He sharply rolled the lighter’s spark wheel over the flint and ignited one of the bundles of paper towels in a sink. The purple fluid instantly reached its flashpoint, the minimum temperature at which a combustible liquid gives off a sufficiently flammable vapour to be able to inflame on the application of an ignition source. Lionel’s clothes began to singe and sear with heat of the fl
ames, his skin started to discolour and blacken as the lit liquid engulfed his body, while the iron-rich blood still inside it produced a coppery, metallic component to the burning flesh. His hair frizzled and sparkled as it burned and gave off a sulphurous odour as a result of the cysteine, a sulphur-containing amino acid protein within the keratin of the hair, reacted with the flames. His body sank to his knees on the tiled floor as the ball of flames increased around him. His life-force expired from suffocation as the available oxygen was drawn to fuel the inferno. In an almost foetal position, his body slipped onto its side while the flames from the fluid and paper towels burned all around it. Thick smoke began to seep under the door and out into the corridor. The security officer tried to open the door to investigate but found it locked. He pressed an alarm button on a wall as he tried to kick the door open. People emerged from side-rooms and offices in response to the ringing alarms and began making their way to the exits illuminated by flashing lights. Daniel and Hélène dashed from the viewing room and weaved in between the throng of people heading for the exits. Daniel could see the security officer struggling to open the door to the toilet area and he smashed a glass panel containing a fire axe and fire blanket. Hélène picked up a foam extinguisher and broke off the plug protecting the nozzle. As she aimed the extinguisher at the door, Daniel threw the fire blanket towards the security guard while he swung the fire axe at the lock of the door. The door handle splintered with the first impact and Daniel aimed a second strike at the space between the door-frame and the lock. Again the wood splintered that caused a third swipe to be aimed at the same space. The door burst open inwardly while fierce flames leapt out into the corridor as a result of fresh air enlivening the conflagration within. Through the flames, Daniel could see a body shape lying on the floor of the toilet area but the heat beat him back. Other people in the corridor were now helping to aim fire extinguishers at the doorway and the flames. The air hissed with the sound of various powder, foam and liquid suppressants attempting to combat the inferno. The security officer flung the fire-blanket onto the burning body on the floor as more and more extinguishers attempted to quell the flames around it. A thick and pungent aroma pervaded the corridor as firemen arrived and began to escort the rescuers away. Hélène grabbed Daniel by the arm and pulled him into a small office and shut the door to subdue the noise outside.
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