‘I spoke to Monsieur Crimson today about this trap you are setting for young Murcoing,’ the Mayor said after a silence. ‘Are you planning on going yourself?’
‘Yes, to try and talk him into giving himself up.’
‘But you’ll be armed?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Are you mad? He’s killed already and now he has these guns.’
‘If he sees I’m armed, he’ll be tempted to shoot. If he knows I’m unarmed, we have a chance to settle this peacefully. We are all assuming that Paul killed Fullerton in a crime passionnel, but from what I’ve learned about him, I’m not sure it’s as simple as that.’
‘But it’s an insane risk to take, Bruno. I can’t allow it.’
‘You’d rather Crimson went instead?’
‘No, of course not. Some hostage expert from the special Gendarme unit, that’s who we need to send.’
‘Yes, but to send him where? And with what instructions? To shoot him like a dog? That would be illegal. Paul’s in charge of arranging a meeting place. He’ll set this up carefully, probably insist that the documents he’s been promised are placed in such a way that he can inspect them before he shows himself. I’ve thought this through and it’s the only way.’
‘What does J-J say?’
‘He began by objecting, but he came to see that it makes sense to do it this way. I’m not convinced that Paul did it, or that he acted alone, or that he’s so crazy that he’s staying on the run with no plan to get out of France and make a new life somewhere.’
‘You sound as though you know him.’
‘I don’t, but I know about his grandfather and his obsession with Neuvic. I’ve met his aunt, Joséphine, and I was the one who organized the funeral for the old man. He was close to his grandfather and he’ll have heard about that. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he has given his aunt or his mum a disposable phone so they can stay in touch. A lot of planning has gone into this, which is why I think he must have an escape route planned. And then there’s his painting.’
‘What do you mean?’ the Mayor asked, as he pulled into the parking lot behind the St Denis Mairie alongside Bruno’s police van.
‘I bought a couple of his paintings from his aunt. They’re very good, landscapes. His portraits may be even better. There’s a sensibility … I don’t know how to put it but I find it hard to equate Paul the artist with the brutal way Fullerton was killed.’
‘So how do you explain it?’
‘I don’t, I can’t.’
The two men sat together in companionable silence, the engine still running. Finally the Mayor spoke.
‘Give my regards to Pamela when you collect her from hospital. And take my tip, make an occasion of it. Take her some flowers. Maybe you should take her some croissants. The food at that hospital leaves a lot to be desired.’
‘Thanks for the tip, and for the dinner and the ride,’ said Bruno, climbing out of the car. ‘I’ll let you know how things develop. Sleep well.’
*
‘What a wonderful breakfast,’ Pamela exclaimed as Bruno placed the tray on her lap, poured her a glass of champagne mixed with orange juice and kissed her on the forehead. Somehow she’d managed to fix her hair and face and look fetching for their arrival. Fabiola held Balzac back from leaping onto the bed and allowed him to give Pamela a single token lick on the neck before putting him on the floor with his own chunk of baguette.
‘It’s a special occasion,’ said Pamela. ‘I think he deserves a corner of my croissant.’
‘I’ll fit you with a bandage we call a figure eight. It will keep your collarbone in place,’ Fabiola said, passing the treat down to Balzac. ‘You should still wear the sling most of the time because otherwise you’ll try to do too much with that arm. I’ll be there to help you dress until you get used to it.’
‘Presumably that means I can help you undress,’ said Bruno, pouring the coffee. He pondered making some light remark about Gilles, but thought better of it. He had no idea if or how their relationship had developed, and no doubt Fabiola would prefer to impart any news to Pamela herself.
‘You’d better learn to restrain yourself,’ Fabiola chided him. ‘We want this collarbone to heal quickly.’
‘The doctor here said it would be at least six weeks,’ Pamela said. ‘And longer before I can ride again.’
‘He’s right,’ said Fabiola. ‘I’d like you to wait three months.’
‘But that’s my peak season. If I can’t look after the guests I’ll lose my regular visitors.’
‘We’ve taken care of that,’ said Bruno. ‘Florence has recruited two girls from her oldest class who’ll come and clean the gîtes and your house and change the bedding. They’ll also take care of the washing and ironing every Saturday morning for twenty euros a week each. And Yannick who lives at the bottom of your lane will look after the garden for ten euros an hour …’
‘Thank you both, you’ve been marvellous. But what about Bess?’
‘All taken care of,’ said Bruno. ‘No charge. Since I reported that the accident took place while you were helping the town police, the council paid the fifty euros for the disposal.’
‘I’ve been looking on the Internet and there’s a jument for sale up near Limoges,’ Pamela said, her eyes bright. ‘She’s a Selle Français, Bruno, like your Hector, and I’m thinking about breeding her. It would be lovely to have some foals around the place.’
‘You can’t buy a horse till you’ve ridden it and that’s a good three months away,’ said Fabiola. ‘Now let’s get you packed up and dressed and we’ll take you home. Bruno, you take the food and the suitcase and the dog down to the car and I’ll help Pamela dress. I want to fit this new figure-eight strap. Then come back and get us, but knock first.’
He was delayed at the Land Rover by a phone call from Yves, who apologized for calling so early but he’d been having breakfast with Annette. He’d mentioned something about Paul Murcoing and she had insisted he call Bruno at once. Bruno told him to go ahead.
‘When I last spoke to you about him, I’d talked to someone who evidently disliked him. Last night at one of the rehearsal dinners I spoke to somebody who liked him, or at least thought well of him. Apparently he’d met Paul when they were both volunteering at a hospice in Bergerac. He said he thought Paul was a kindly boy and found it hard to believe he’d killed anybody. That’s it, Bruno. If I hear any more, good or bad, I’ll let you know.’
The Land Rover had just passed through Meyrals on the way back when Bruno’s phone rang again. Fabiola, who had dealt with too many car-crash victims to let a driver use a cellphone, took it from the pouch at his waist, accepted the call and held it to his ear.
‘It’s Crimson, and it’s all gone wrong. I’ve just heard from Murcoing. He doesn’t want to meet me and says that instead I should get in touch with Gilles from Paris Match and let him have the new documents. He’s even sent Gilles’s email address. What do we do now?’
‘Putain, let me think. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.’
Fabiola put the phone away. ‘Bad news?’
‘Our clever little plan to smoke out Paul Murcoing just collapsed and I don’t have another.’
He explained the ploy that he, Crimson and Florence had developed, and his scheme to go to the rendezvous instead of Crimson to talk him into giving himself up.
‘Thank heavens that’s not going to happen,’ said Pamela from the rear seat. ‘It’s a ridiculous risk for you to take. Why not just leave it to J-J and the rest of the police? They’re bound to pick him up eventually.’
‘I don’t think it’s that simple,’ said Bruno.
‘Didn’t I hear Gilles’s name being mentioned on the phone?’ asked Fabiola, a note of concern in her voice. ‘How does he come into this?’
‘Gilles has been in touch with him, or rather Paul emailed Gilles after his piece appeared on the Paris Match website. Now Paul wants Crimson to give the documents to Gilles.’
&
nbsp; ‘These are the documents you faked?’
‘No, we only faked the title page of a file. The documents don’t actually exist but Paul doesn’t know that.’
‘Why should Crimson do what Paul wants and hand the documents over to the press?’ Pamela asked. ‘I thought you said this researcher you invented wanted money for them.’
‘You’re right,’ Bruno replied. ‘And he was expecting them to go to a private person, not to the press.’
Might the plan be saved, Bruno asked himself, if Crimson just said no and insisted on the original arrangement? He’d have to think this through and keep his thoughts to himself. He didn’t need the distraction of Pamela trying to talk him out of it.
‘How much money did this researcher want?’
‘I’m not sure any deal was reached. The story is that this was a professional researcher who used to do occasional work in the archives for Fullerton, paid by the day. Crimson thought that would be at least two hundred euros a day, but these documents are supposed to be special, classified papers that have not been publicly released. I imagine the price would be two or three thousand, maybe more.’
‘Where would Paul get that sort of money?’
‘He got three thousand on the company credit card.’ Bruno turned on to the long lane that led to Pamela’s house. ‘Maybe that was why he wanted the cash. Look, we’re almost home.’
He always enjoyed this approach, the long ridge climbing to the left and then the fringe of poplars that shielded the house and grounds from the north and east, the ivy-covered pigeon tower and the welcoming sight of the house itself, the courtyard formed by the flanking barns that Pamela rented as gîtes.
‘The sooner that gardener gets here the better,’ said Pamela. ‘I’ve got three families arriving Saturday.’
‘And I have to get to work,’ said Bruno, helping her from the car.
‘Dinner tonight after you ride Hector?’
‘Let me call you.’ He kissed them both and headed back towards town, punching Crimson’s number into the phone as he drove.
28
Crimson’s house was not quite in order. The rugs had been laid, the pictures hung, and most of the furniture was back in place. But the dining-room table was still to be reassembled and cases of wine were stacked beside it. Crimson took Bruno to his study, where a desk phone, an iPhone and a cheap disposable were lined up on the desk. It was covered with a large-scale map of the area and a laptop stood open on a small table beside the desk.
‘You dyed your hair,’ said Bruno. As arranged, both men were wearing khaki slacks and blue shirts.
‘It was the nearest I could get to looking like you. Even with binoculars, if we have the same clothes and hair colour he won’t be able to tell us apart. We’d better synchronize watches and be sure we have each other’s phones on speed dial.’
‘Quite a little operations room,’ said Bruno.
‘I’ve got other maps as well, notepads and tape recorders, and there’s coffee in the thermos. Why did you bring the dog? I mean I’m delighted to see the little fellow, but you can’t intend to take him along.’
‘He’s my secret weapon. Murcoing likes dogs.’ Bruno looked around the study. ‘It looks like you’ve done this sort of thing before.’
As soon as he was out of sight of Pamela’s house, Bruno had called Crimson and suggested that he reply to Paul by saying he had no intention of giving the documents to the press. He wanted to deal only with someone who was personally known to and trusted by Fullerton. Otherwise he’d return to England and forget the whole thing. Crimson had agreed and sent the email.
‘Florence is teaching but she wants to drop by after school. She’s arranged babysitters,’ Crimson said. ‘Now we just wait.’
‘Not quite,’ said Bruno. ‘If you can find a screwdriver we could put that dining table of yours back together.’
It took them twenty minutes and would have taken longer but for J-J’s arrival with Josette, who explained that she and her husband had just furnished their new house from IKEA and so she knew about putting furniture together. She added that she loved dogs and Balzac was the friendliest little charmer she’d seen in years, which sent her soaring in Bruno’s estimation. She took off her jacket, rolled up her sleeves and took charge. Crimson excused himself to make more coffee. When he returned with a tray, the table was assembled.
‘Well done, we can spread out the other maps now,’ he said, gingerly resting the tray on it as if unsure of Josette’s skills.
‘Don’t worry, Monsieur. I sat on it to be sure I’d done it right.’
‘Before we start on today’s operation, I have some interesting news,’ said J-J. ‘When Josette looked at Edouard’s mail, she found a letter from the traffic police. His Jaguar was caught by a speed camera on the autoroute from Périgueux to Bordeaux just after eight on the evening of Fullerton’s murder.’
‘That means he was there,’ said Bruno.
‘He was certainly in the general vicinity. And the juge d’instruction shares your suspicions, but Edouard now has a lawyer and he’s not saying a word.’
‘Putain, I was sure you’d broken him yesterday.’
‘Me too, but it seems we were wrong. I’ll get back to him when this is over. Now listen carefully because I have something I’m required to say,’ said J-J. ‘This is not an officially sanctioned operation. You are doing this at your own risk and I know nothing about it, understood?’
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Here’s a slim-line flak vest, not the latest model but it will stop a handgun. We’ve changed the number plates on your car so it looks like it was hired in Paris,’ J-J went on. ‘And here are the shoes.’ He handed over a pair of black hiking boots. ‘The tracker’s in the heel and Josette has the monitor. We’ll need to be no more than two or three kilometres away for it to work, so keep me informed by phone of where you are. Inspector Jofflin has a second car waiting outside Bergerac with another monitor.’
‘Any support?’ Crimson asked.
‘Somebody owes me a favour, so a team of Gendarmes Mobiles will be doing an anti-terrorist training exercise with live weapons and a helicopter at the Golfech nuclear power plant near Agen. They’re about eighty kilometres away, say thirty minutes, but give me some notice and I’ll have them moved closer. They’ve been informally briefed and we’re on the same communications net.’
Bruno nodded, and inquired innocently: ‘The favour would be the Brigadier?’
‘Don’t ask. And here’s a wire for each of you so we know what you’re saying if you can’t use the phones. It goes under your clothes and we have to attach the transmitter to your backs with tape, so get your shirts off. It’s very short-distance, maybe three hundred metres if we’re lucky.’
Bruno and Crimson began to strip. J-J waited until they were taped, the system tested and Bruno had the flak vest under his shirt.
‘And here’s the gun I want you to use.’ He put his foot up on a chair and drew up his trouser leg to reveal an ankle holster in black webbing and Velcro and drew out the gun.
‘It’s a Smith & Wesson Centennial Airweight, designed for this holster. It’s an American thirty-eight, which is pretty much the same as our nine-millimetre. It’s a revolver because it’s less likely to get jammed by sock lint or any kind of debris you pick up walking through rough ground. And I want it back.’
‘I don’t want to carry a gun.’
‘Take it, and don’t be a fool.’
‘At least this way you have the option,’ said Crimson. ‘And it really is concealed.’
Reluctantly Bruno strapped it on, privately suspecting with a soldier’s superstition that this would probably ensure that Paul never made contact again. Crimson’s disposable phone rang.
‘Hello,’ he said, his English accent more evident than usual. A pause, but Bruno saw the little cogs on the cassette recorder moving. Josette turned away to make a call, presumably to start the trace.
‘Yes, I have a car, a rental
, a white Peugeot, a two-o-seven.’ Crimson was speaking in English.
Another pause. ‘I’m at a hotel on the autoroute outside Périgueux, Francis told me he had a place nearby.
‘Yes, I have a map. Yes, I’ve found Les Eyzies. The public telephone outside the Post Office on the main street. How long will it take me to get there?’
Bruno felt frustrated hearing only one side of this conversation. Couldn’t they have rigged up some extra earphones?
‘You’ll call me there at one precisely. I understand.’
Another pause. ‘Francis promised me two thousand pounds. Let’s say twenty-five hundred euros.’
‘Very well, at one.’ He closed the phone.
‘Fifty seconds,’ said J-J looking at his watch. ‘That should be long enough to trace it. Josette?’
She held up a hand to silence him as she listened and scribbled on a notepad.
‘It came from a public phone booth outside the Mairie in Coux,’ she said, and turned back to speak into her phone. ‘We expect the next call at eleven to the public box outside La Poste in Les Eyzies. Can you set the trace up now? Thanks.’
‘Call Jofflin, tell him to get to Coux and then call in,’ said J-J. ‘Murcoing won’t still be there but this looks like the area.’
‘He might be watching the phone box, or Yvonne might be watching,’ said Bruno. ‘He’s not alone.’
‘We’ll be careful.’ J-J turned to Crimson. ‘We’ll follow you to Les Eyzies and we’ll park down the road but in line of sight. There’s a filling station on the corner we should be able to use. I want Bruno hiding on the floor of your car at the rear. I suspect Murcoing will have a second phone box arranged after Les Eyzies, one he can watch for any funny business. When you have the final rendezvous, or one that is not a phone box, you hand the car over to Bruno. You’ll have to find a spot which is under cover. When Bruno drives off, stay under cover until you see my car and we’ll collect you. Make sure you can recognize it and keep talking so we can pick you up on the mike.’
‘You’ve done this before,’ Crimson said to J-J.
The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6) Page 25