‘Hey, Tarzan,’ Godard said to Desmoulins, as the young detective ejected the shells from his rifle and handed it to the armourer. ‘That was good work you did back there, going through the window. Any time you want to join a proper unit, we’d be glad to have you.’ He shot a sly look at Rocco as he said it and fluttered his eyebrows. ‘Brains and brawn, a good combination.’
‘Hands off, Godard,’ Rocco growled, and clapped Desmoulins on the shoulder. ‘We need him for when your boys are off playing commando.’
The comments caused a ripple of laughter among the other men, breaking the tension, and Desmoulins ducked his head, flushing at the compliments.
Rocco left them to it and grabbed a quick cup of foul, over-brewed coffee. He was anxious to get his report written up before his face hit the desk. No doubt Monteo would have been quick to notify his masters at the Interior Ministry of the planned rescue, and they would be itching for details of how it had gone, which would put pressure on Massin to provide a detailed briefing.
As he signed it and sent it upstairs, Rizzotti appeared and sat down in front of him.
‘You’re working late,’ said Rocco. ‘Or it is early?’
‘I got lucky,’ the doctor said, barely able to conceal a smile. He waved a piece of paper in the air. ‘Good news, I think.’
‘I take it you’re not talking about your love life.’
‘No, I’m talking about the spike-bayonet query. One of my contacts came up with two possible matches. The first was a stabbing in Nice last year. I spoke to their chief pathologist and he confirmed the details. The deceased was a banker who was known to have had dealings in gold bullion through some local businessmen.’
‘You mean gangsters.’
‘You’ve got it. The banker had got himself into serious debt and tried a spot of under-the-counter buying and selling to get himself out of trouble using these business associates to move some gold around. Unfortunately he thought he was smarter than they were, but he was mixing with the wrong people. It seems they took exception to him trying to rip them off, and he was found laid out one morning along the Promenade des Anglais with what they thought was an ice-pick wound in his neck. The weapon was never found, though.’
Rocco felt a flutter of excitement at the news. ‘And the other?’
Rizzotti checked his sheet of paper. ‘An industrialist this time, also stabbed in the neck but earlier this year. The deceased was rumoured to have collaborated with the Nazis during the war, but nothing stuck. More recently, though, he was widely reported to have driven two associates into bankruptcy, causing the wife of one of them to take her own life. They questioned the husband afterwards but couldn’t prove he’d had anything to do with the industrialist’s death.’
‘And the weapon?’
‘No weapon was found, but the investigating team did find a scabbard nearby.’ He looked up and smiled. ‘The scabbard for a number four, mark two spike bayonet.’
Rocco breathed out. So, two good matches, one better than the other, but he wasn’t going to argue. True, it only proved the use of a similar weapon, not the user, but it was a decent step forward. And sometimes decent steps were the best one could hope for.
‘Where was this second killing?’
‘Oh, sorry – I nearly forgot. It was in Geneva, down by the edge of the lake. I don’t know if it helps, but there was an additional note against this case, which was that very shortly before his death, the industrialist was seen by an acquaintance in the company of a young blonde woman.’
‘No name, I take it?’
‘No. She seems to have vanished without trace.’ He shrugged. ‘It could have been nothing, of course, someone asking directions or a chance encounter. Geneva’s a busy place.’
Rocco sat there after Rizzotti had gone, reading and re-reading the note, allowing the facts to slot into place. Two more stabbings with the same kind of weapon, maybe the same weapon, and both out in the open. And Caspar had mentioned Geneva. Was this too good to be true or was he over-analysing and making the facts fit to suit his suspicions?
As he put the paper down and felt his head falling forward, he was jerked awake by the phone ringing.
It was Detective Franck Joncquet from Dieppe. ‘Lucas. I’ve been trying to get hold of you since yesterday evening but I gather you’ve been busy. I thought I’d try one more time.’
‘Go ahead, Franck. What is it?’
‘I’ve discovered something else about the morning Raballe was killed. After your visit I got it into my head that someone, even on a quiet road like the one where he was killed, might have seen something. Especially after what Edith Capelle told us about the van. I asked more questions in the area, and finally spoke to the truck driver she mentioned, Emmanuel.’
‘Good thinking. What did he say?’
‘He admitted it hadn’t occurred to him until I mentioned it, but on the morning of Raballe’s killing, he’d been driving down the road and saw a young woman taking to an older man with a dog. He’d seen the man before and figured he was local, but not the woman. He didn’t think anything of it when the murder was in the news later because he didn’t know Raballe by name and hadn’t made the connection.’
‘Did he give you a description of the woman?’
‘Smartly dressed, he said, so he thought she must be a tourist from one of the cities or over from England. She had very short, blonde hair, he said, which he noticed because it was unusual. A bit masculine, in fact, to quote his words. I’ll send through a copy of my report.’
Rocco hesitated. The description was familiar, and he thought about the photo from Place Carnot. Was it really this simple or was he simply keen to reach an obvious conclusion? There was one way to find out.
‘Could she have been another dog walker?’
‘That’s just it. I’ve spoken to others in the area, but nobody remembers seeing a woman walking down there, either before or since. It’s pretty much men like Raballe, retired and with plenty of time on their hands. I hope I’m not confusing the picture. I thought it a bit odd, that’s all.’
‘You were right to call, Franck. It is odd – and thanks for telling me.’ Rocco wished him goodbye and put the phone down, his mind in a buzz. Was this merely an odd coincidence, and another woman had been in the area at the time? If not, did it mean the mystery woman from the van hadn’t been a lookout but something more? Why would she have risked approaching Raballe, unless it had been to make sure of his identity? Or was there a more damning explanation?
He set out for Les Sables to speak to Bouanga. He needed to get a statement from the former minister about what had happened to him and Excelsiore, so that it could be incorporated in the full report. As he drove, the puzzle Joncquet had just presented him wouldn’t go away. It was almost too shocking to contemplate, but the more he thought about it, the stronger the feeling became. Was it possible that, against all expectations, the killer known as Nightingale turned out not to be the man in the team, but the woman?
He arrived at the house to find officers on the gate and others patrolling the grounds, a sudden explosion of personnel that until now had been denied. An example, he thought, of stable doors and horses bolting. But at least it made it more difficult for anybody else to mount an attack.
Claude Lamotte met him at the front door.
‘Good timing, Lucas. I was about to leave,’ said Claude. ‘The others are taking over.’
‘Is Bouanga up and about?’
‘I’ll say. He’s been wandering about like a ghost ever since he got back. I don’t think he’s even tried to get to sleep. Excelsiore, too. She’s been asking about Delicat but I haven’t been able to tell her anything.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, Lucas, I get the feeling there’s something a bit odd going on around here.’
‘In what way?’
‘I happened to step in the barn out back this morning, just taking a quick snoop. And guess what I found lying on the floor?’ He stepped across to the hall table and
produced one of the arrows Rocco had last seen in the quiver in the conservatory.
‘So?’
‘I’m willing to bet my pension, as miserable as it will be, that it wasn’t there yesterday. After they took that poor cop away, the floor was clear and I swear there was no arrow anywhere near. Also,’ he held up a finger, ‘there’s a hayloft at the back, and I’d be ready to bet your pension as well that somebody’s been sleeping up there. I found a blanket and a jug of water.’
‘Who do you think it was?’
‘I was wondering if it was Delicat. If he’s been here all this time, why hasn’t he made himself known now his wife’s back?’
It was a question Rocco wasn’t able to answer. ‘Show me,’ he said, and followed Claude to the hayloft. It was reached by a short ladder and measured approximately two metres by four; there was ample space for one person to sleep as long as they didn’t mind the risk of rolling off the loft onto the floor below.The area was thick with straw that had been compressed by regular use, and a blanket lay folded up at one end alongside a metal jug of water. The compressed area of straw was small, like the imprint of a boy, and the folded blanket told him everything he needed to know.
Delicat.
He wondered why the little man hadn’t gained access to the house instead of sleeping out here. Nobody would have stumbled on him and he’d have been able to hide quite easily. But maybe he’d felt it wasn’t his place.
‘You’re right. It’s him.’ Rocco went back down the ladder.
‘What should we do?’ Claude shivered when he joined him at the bottom. ‘Makes my shoulders go cold, the thought of him creeping around out there with that bow of his.’
‘Don’t worry about it. It won’t be you he’s interested in.’
He left Claude to get on home and went in search of Bouanga. It seemed he now had another mystery: what had Delicat being doing while Bouanga and Excelsiore were being held by the gang? Was he part of the kidnapping, or had he stayed close to the house in the hope that his boss and his wife would be returned? It was the most logical explanation, because what else would he have been able to do, a stranger in a strange country, suddenly separated by force from the two people closest to him and unable to do a thing about it? If, on the other hand, he’d been part of the kidnap gang, why would he have hung around, waiting to be caught? Logic would surely have made him get away from here and keep on running.
Rocco found the former minister in the conservatory, staring out at the open countryside. He looked drawn, his face tinted grey with fatigue and with a definite slump to his shoulders. His suit was dusty and rumpled and his tie askew from a collar grown grubby and creased, yet he seemed not to care.
‘I suppose you wish to talk about what happened.’ Bouanga didn’t turn to greet him.
‘I’m afraid I must. I can come back later if you prefer, but it’s better if we talk about it sooner, so we can find out who was responsible for what happened to you. The longer we leave it the more chance they have of getting away.’
Bouanga nodded and turned to the sofa, where he sat down with a sigh. ‘Of course. I am sorry, I was forgetting that one of your colleagues died in the attack here trying to protect us, and another was wounded. How can I help?’
‘First of all, do you know what happened to Delicat? We’ve seen no trace of him.’
‘I’m afraid I do not. He was overwhelmed by the men with guns. He tried to stop them coming for me, but a bow and arrow is no match for a bullet, so I told him to leave us and save himself.’
‘And he did that?’
‘He obeyed my orders, Inspector. I would not have expected him to do otherwise. I assumed the men would not harm Excelsiore, as they had come after me. I told them she was the cook and they believed me. But they wanted her along anyway, because they had been told to bring her and the child. I told them there was no child here, which they at first did not understand. Then they saw Delicat and thought it was funny, I don’t know why. Such people are like children themselves, with simple minds and no feelings.’
‘How is Excelsiore? They didn’t hurt her physically, did they?’
‘She is well. A little frightened, of course, as you would expect after such an experience, but she is a strong person. However, she is especially worried for Delicat.’ Bouanga looked away, leaving an unspoken statement in the air like a flag. Finally he said, ‘I told you when we first met that she was Delicat’s wife, did I not?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘I am afraid I did not tell you the truth, Inspector. For that I must apologise. I said my wife was in Cameroon with our children, which was two lies. It was meant to be a simple ruse to protect her, you see. In that I failed spectacularly.’ He took a deep breath, visibly struggling to get out what he wanted to say.
Rocco waited. He was uncertain about where this was going. Having seen the moment of intimacy between the bodyguard and Excelsiore in the kitchen, he wasn’t sure what the problem was. They were an odd couple in some ways, and he’d had no reason to question their relationship, but so what?
Then Bouanga put it into words.
‘Excelsior is actually my wife, Inspector. Not his.’
So, that explained why they had jumped apart when he’d entered the kitchen; it was guilt, not embarrassment. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘As I said, it was a simple yet stupid ruse. I thought that if my enemies here were aware that I had brought my wife with me, they would gain some leverage to use against me. I could not risk that because I know how these people think. They are utterly ruthless and would not hesitate to harm a woman to get what they want. I’m afraid life is cheap to them.’
‘And they wanted what – your capitulation?’
‘That, of course, although as I am no longer in the country it would be difficult to assign me any kind of importance at the moment. But that is a matter for the future. However, they would also want to exact revenge for past… misunderstandings. We are a nation in turmoil, you see, still very new in independence terms, like a newborn struggling to find its feet and a new direction. Some… regrettable things have been done – on all sides, I have to say. We have made mistakes and cannot deny that. But much of what was done by me and my colleagues was designed to make the country strong and modern, to be a new force in Africa.’ He stopped and raised both hands. ‘My apologies, Inspector Rocco – suddenly I sound like a politician seeking re-election. Old habits, I’m afraid.’
‘When you said they were ruthless, does that mean they don’t usually return kidnap victims?’
‘Precisely. People have disappeared in my country, never to be seen again. It is not the same as your country; there are vast areas in Gabon where people do not venture to live. The land is too harsh and unwelcoming and impossible to farm. But if you want somebody to vanish without trace it is ideal.’
Rocco wanted to tell him that there were plenty of places in France where people had been known to disappear, but right now wasn’t the time. ‘Yet this gang didn’t harm her.’
‘No, they didn’t, for which I thank the Good Lord in Heaven. But I think it was because they had not been told who I am, and neither did they care. They were from the Congo, simple gutter filth with no education and no morals, recruited to take me away and wait for instructions.’
‘What do you think was going to happen to you?’
Bouanga shrugged. ‘I thought they were in the pay of my enemies and were going to hand me over to them. But since I am still alive and free, thanks to you and your men, I was clearly mistaken.’
‘But you must have heard them talking. Didn’t they say anything?’
‘A little. I heard them talking after they had drunk some cheap brandy and were feeling invincible and very pleased with themselves, which happens easily to people like them. All they were interested in was the payment they had been promised for taking us hostage and keeping us out of sight at a pre-arranged place until they were told what to do.’
‘The factory complex whe
re we found you.’
‘Exactly so. But they were foolish and did not take us there immediately. Instead they decided to go in search of drink and some drugs. One of them said he had a cousin living in Arras and he could supply them with what they desired.’
‘So that’s why they were there.’
‘Yes. At first they drove us around as if they would not be noticed, never going far but turning back and trying new roads. It was ridiculous; they were acting as if they were on vacation. I offered them money to let us go but they refused and said it would not match what they had been promised. I tried to tell them that there was probably going to be no payment, but they did not believe me and began to utter threats against Excelsiore, so I stopped.’
‘That was probably wise.’
‘As they were driving us into the town, the car was stopped by a police patrol which must have been searching for us. One of the men panicked and took out a gun and waved it out of the window to make them step back, but the two officers were very brave; they ran forward and dragged him from the car. I think you know the rest.’
Rocco didn’t tell him that it had been pure chance. The traffic patrol had been making random checks on vehicles for safety reasons, not searching for the kidnappers and their victims.
‘You are probably wondering about my wife and Delicat, are you not?’
‘It’s not my place to think about it. We all have secrets.’
‘Even you, Inspector? I can’t imagine such a thing.’
‘Even me. But I don’t interest myself in the secrets of others… unless they’ve committed a crime.’
Bouanga smiled. It seemed to take an effort, but he managed. ‘You’re too polite, Inspector. There are many people who would not be so hesitant.’ He rubbed his fingers together reflectively, as if carefully composing his words. ‘I told you why I used the ruse about her being my cook, not my wife. What that did was to throw two people together in circumstances that would not have happened otherwise. Excelsiore and I have… not always been harmonious in our marriage. We have not been able to have children, which has been a source of great sadness for us. It has also been difficult for her, with me being a busy member of the government, whereas she is very outward-looking and sociable with many friends back home.’
Rocco and the Nightingale Page 23