Jean-Marie made the introduction. “I introduce Capitaine Lafarge.”
The officer stepped forward and kissed her on both cheeks. “Enchanté, Mademoiselle,” he said, bowing slightly. “Qu'est-ce que là-bas? Vous savez?”
Petra looked down into the gloom. Not wishing to spoil the impact of the dramatic display down below, she merely stated that he would find answers. “Toutes les réponses à vos questions.”
She stepped to one side, expecting Lafarge to descend to the cellar. Exercising his position of authority, he summoned the two officers previously reprimanded. Suddenly a muffled noise of metal against metal resonated from below.
Roche must still be here, thought Petra, dreading the possible consequences. Jean-Marie pulled Petra away from the doorway. The gendarmes withdrew their handguns and trod warily down the stone steps towards the cellar entrance. The door bursting open and loud incomprehensible shouting broke an eerie silence. Suddenly silence returned to replace the commotion.
Petra sensed that her heartbeat had increased. Her whole body seemed to be shaking. What had happened down there? Had they discovered Roche? One of the gendarmes reappeared, spoke with Lafarge and raced outside. The atmosphere became tense as the unexpected developments unfolded. Seconds later, the gendarme returned clutching a large pair of metal cutters and took them down to the cellar.
Petra sought an explanation. She turned to Jean-Marie. “Qu'est-ce que se passe?”
He was likewise in the dark. He shook his head. “Je ne sais pas.”
The unexpected appearance of a figure in the doorway answered any concerns that they held about what the cellar had revealed. Capitaine Lafarge stepped back into the dining room. Behind him stood Alexis, shielding his eyes from the bright light of day.
Petra ran towards him. “Oh, my God…you're alive!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.
“What took you so long?” he said, displaying little emotion and no discernible affection.
She backed away as they escorted him out towards one of the blue police cars. Why was he angry following his rescue? She turned to Jean-Marie. “What is going on?”
“We follow. You now drive the Clio to the gendarmerie at La Bastide, where you make your statement. Alexis, ‘e also must make a statement. It is possible that they charge you, because yesterday you enter building illegally… pas grave. It is not a serious matter because Roche is not ‘ere to make complaint.”
Petra was confused. How can they charge me? Why did Jean-Marie draw such a swift conclusion? I've just done their work for them. Why are they not consulting me? What about the secret room? What about Roche and his probable involvement in terrorist activity? Who had locked Alexis in the cellar and why?
It seemed that the police were treating her and Alexis as criminals, whilst the real villain had absconded. The situation was even more unbearable because her brief moment of control had evaporated with the discovery of Alexis. In addition, why had he reacted so brusquely?
Jean-Marie walked towards the front entrance. “I come with you. It is not necessary that we stay ‘ere longer. It is now police affair. Follow me in your car.”
Petra walked slowly across to where she had left the Clio on the previous day. After opening the door, she sat in the driver's seat staring at the misted windscreen, deep in thought. Why am I suddenly thinking like this? Her head was pounding, not from her injury, but from her inability to comprehend the situation. She feared that something was amiss, but what?
8888
Petra and Jean-Marie stood outside the gendarmerie at La Bastide. The sun was shining. Local residents were shopping and going about their business before the majority of commercial activities ceased trading for the lunchtime break. There was a comforting air of normality about the place.
It's amazing how life continues in ignorance, thought Petra, while earth-shattering events play out behind the scenes. Maybe, it's a blessing that we only know what we see before us. She had relaxed a little, relieved by the outcome at the police station. After making her statement, she received nothing more than a severe reprimand for her involvement with the break-in at Roche's house.
Before her interview, she had handed over the tape from the answering machine. Even though the messages were vaguely coded, the content supported the possibility of his involvement in some form of illegal activity. If Roche denied that the consignments were human, would he be able to prove otherwise?
The statement made earlier by Alexis corroborated Petra's version of events, adding further credibility to her own account. He had also accepted responsibility for entering the house, an action that had led to the discovery of the hidden cellar. Thus, they had released him without charge after a short lecture on his actions. Before they left, Lafarge reluctantly thanked them individually for what he described as their unsolicited interference.
Petra considered that her subsequent actions after her discharge from the hospital were totally justified. Not only had she exposed the existence of the cellar and its contents, but that had also led to the release of Alexis from his ordeal of imprisonment by Roche. The gendarmes who had entered the cellar had discovered him manacled by chains to a metal grating, hence the need for the metal cutters.
Jean-Marie escorted Petra towards her car. “Call me after you speak with your people in London. I collect the keys for the apartment and the Clio before you leave.” He assumed that her mission was now complete as further investigations into Roche and his associates would pass into the hands of the security agencies based in France.
She was not yet prepared to leave the country. “I need to find Alexis first. He's already left the gendarmerie without speaking to me. My mobile phone also needs charging. Consequently, I've lost track of events as I have been incommunicado since my encounter with Roche.”
“You wish to use my phone to make your calls?”
“I'll go to his grandmother's house first. He'll probably be there. I can call London when I am back at the apartment.”
“Are the English detectives still in Marseille?”
Petra shrugged her shoulders. “As I said, I have had no contact.”
“When you speak with them, you explain what ‘appen ‘ere and they too can go ‘ome.”
Petra was beginning to understand that Jean-Marie was intimating that their presence was no longer required. The discovery of the identities of the two young Frenchmen in England was no longer a priority. It was now a side issue. Activities that were more serious had surfaced, moving ongoing enquiries to a higher level of concern because of their possible security implications.
Disappointed with the outcome of her mission and annoyed by her own deficiencies in the conduct of the affair, particularly her incompetence in losing her weapon, she set off in defiant mood to confront Alexis over his strange behaviour. Deep down, she was desperately seeking an excuse for her own failings. She drove to his apartment.
Katherine opened the door. “Petra, do come in.” She smiled and stepped to one side.
Immediately, Petra realised that Alexis was not at home. His grandmother had addressed her by her true name. She wondered if Alexis had been home after leaving the gendarmerie. If that were the case, did Katherine know his whereabouts? She decided to see if any news was forthcoming.
Katherine showed her into the living room. “Sit yourself down, my dear. I'll make some tea.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
Petra wandered across towards the vast library of books that dominated one complete wall of the room. No wonder Katherine is well versed in Russian history, she thought, scanning the various titles and authors. There were novels by Dostoyevsky, Turgenev, Chekhov, Pasternak and Tolstoy; historical reference books by Sokolov, Rodzyanko, Sukhanov, Solzhenitsyn, Paléologue and many others who had chronicled that specific period of Russian upheaval. Some were in English, others in Russian. One book, in particular, made her smile. To Petra, it seemed out of context with the general theme generated by the other titles. The book was Lolita by Vladimir N
abokov.
Katherine re-entered with a tea tray and placed it on a low table.
Petra pointed towards the book. “Is that the Lolita that I think it is?”
She had visited the house to ask about Alexis. Her innocent question about the book only sidetracked the issue. Katherine was about to unleash another lesson in Russian history.
The old woman raised her cane towards the bookcase. “The author's father, also Vladimir, was murdered in 1922 by a Russian revolutionary. Initially, Nabokov was a lawyer who became the head of the Chancellery under Kerensky. His mandate was to produce a political but illegal manifesto giving legitimacy to the Provisional Government. It was during that dreadful period of great confusion and complexity. Nicholas had been forced to abdicate and his brother, Grand Duke Mikhail, had unwittingly accepted the role of Emperor, believing it to be the role of Regent until Alexei, the Tsarevitch, was old enough to assume his responsibilities.”
She sat in her chair and poured the tea. “Some still believed that a constitutional government could be formed with Grand Duke Mikhail as a symbolic head of state. Unfortunately, such efforts were to no avail because of the increasing dominance of the Bolsheviks. The Grand Duke started that fateful day, believing that he was about to be proclaimed Regent. He then spent several hours as Emperor and finished the day once again as a Grand Duke. Sadly, local Bolsheviks murdered him in June 1918 near Perm. The whereabouts of his remains is still a mystery. His poor widow, Natasha, eventually died destitute in Paris in 1952. She lies buried next to her son, George, in Passy cemetery near the Trocadero. It was a sad time.”
Katherine turned away, her eyes misty with past memories. “I'm sorry. I digress. You asked about the book, Lolita. Yes, it is the famous book that became a film. As a consequence, it became even more notorious.”
“I watched a video of the film with my sister some years ago. If I remember rightly, it was quite erotic.”
“I believe that it was meant to be a black comedy. You should read the book, my dear. The version on the shelf is in English.”
“I may have to leave soon and return to England. I doubt that I will have time to read before I go.”
“You must take it with you. I insist.”
“Actually, I came to see Alexis. Has he not returned home yet?”
“He called in earlier, changed his clothes, packed a travel bag and said that he would be working away for a few days. He hasn't contacted you?”
Petra shook her head. “My phone needs charging. I'll call him from the apartment.”
Katherine nodded approvingly. She rose from the comfort of her leather chair and crossed to a nearby Louis XV slant top writing desk. She opened a drawer. “I have a small parcel for you.”
Katherine took out a brown paper parcel tied with string. “Something I promised you at the hospital.” She smiled. “Don't worry, it's not loaded, but inside you'll find some ammunition in a separate pack.” She passed it to Petra and sipped some tea.
8888
Feeling somewhat deflated by the lack of positive news, Petra left the area of La Bastide and drove to the apartment in Limoges city centre. Her priority was to recharge her mobile phone. Her dilemma was whether she should contact Rob. If she were to update him, he would probably suggest that her mission was over and that she should return to the U.K. She decided that more pressing calls to Alexis and Harcourt took precedence. Their outcomes could determine what action she should take consequently.
An unexpected interruption thwarted her plans before her mobile was fully reactivated. Having just stepped from a most welcome hot shower, a sudden ring-tone from the living room alerted her. In her panic, swathed in only a damp towel, she answered the call without checking the number on display. Her immediate thought was Alexis. The caller was Rob.
“I hear that you have been upstaging and upsetting the local gendarmerie. I thought that you were supposed to be working together.”
Damn, thought Petra, he must have spoken to Jean-Marie. Conscious of his predictable reaction to her recent failings, she decided to try to humour him. “Are you watching me on satellite? If so, you'll see that I'm almost naked. I have just showered and need to get dressed.”
Rob laughed. “I wish. Unfortunately, I have nothing so sophisticated. I called Jean-Marie earlier because your number has been unobtainable. He explained what had happened. It appears from his version of events that your presence is no longer required. I suggest, therefore, that you book the first available flight from Limoges to Stansted or Luton. I'll arrange for someone to meet you at this end if you email me the details. Book it on-line using the credit card that we issued to you. You can leave Jean-Marie to sort out the car and the apartment. Oh, and leave the equipment case plus its contents for him to deal with.”
“There may be a slight problem there,” Petra said, ruefully. “I no longer have the gun.”
“What d'you mean? You ‘no longer have the gun’? You cannot have lost a Sig Sauer.” Rob was not too concerned, but he could not resist the opportunity to pressurise her.
“I think that Roche must have nicked it when I fell unconscious.”
“You're fortunate that he didn't shoot you with it. These people are dangerous. For them, life has no value…you're a lucky young woman. I wonder why Jean-Marie never mentioned anything about the gun.”
“He doesn't know. I left it out of my statement to the police in case there were questions about my possessing a firearm.” She hoped to regain some credibility.
“At least you managed to get that right. What's the situation with the Manchester plod?”
“Not a clue. They shot off to Marseille and I've heard nothing since.”
“What about your contact at the football club, Alex? Where is he?”
“Alexis, he's called Alexis,” Petra said, impatiently. She was beginning to wish that she were still in the shower. “Again, I don't know. I was about to phone all these people before contacting you, so that I could give you a full update.”
Rob was silent for a moment before continuing. “Apart from discovering a hidden cellar adorned with political poster memorabilia, your exploits are hardly a glowing example of your expertise in the field. You've managed to lose a suspect, an informant, two detectives, a 500-dollar handgun and have involved the emergency services. In addition, the local gendarmerie has arrested you for breaking and entering.” He was enjoying her discomfort. “That's some record for a first assignment.”
Petra became more defensive. “At least, you and the French now know that Roche was involved in the trafficking of illegals into the U.K.” His remarks hurt, but she was mostly annoyed with herself for losing control of the situation.
Rob concealed his amusement at her reaction and closed by stating that he would await the email confirmation of her flight details. She promised to make the necessary travel arrangements, but deliberately omitted to inform Rob that her return would be dependant on first finding Alexis. Besides, she wanted to ensure that Harcourt and Massey would also be winging their way back to Manchester.
Before she could dress, the phone buzzed again. It was Jean-Marie. “You ‘ave good battery in phone again?”
“Hello, Jean-Marie. Have you some news?”
“Very bad, I am afraid. There ‘as been big explosion. The ‘ouse of Roche was destroyed. Many lives lost.”
Immediately her thoughts turned to Alexis. “What? When did that happen?”
“It was after you leave. They investigate now. They think it is a large bomb. It must ‘ave been there before. We ‘ave good fortune, n'est-ce pas?”
“Were the gendarmes still there?” she asked, showing some concern, but mostly worried that Alexis may have returned.
“It is tragedy,” said Jean-Marie. “Some die in explosion.”
Petra shivered as she spoke. “Oh, my God…we could have been there. Capitaine Lafarge, was he still there?”
“The capitaine return to La Bastide before it ‘appen. It is ‘e who phone me.”
“You must take care, Louise. Maybe it is good that you return ‘ome soon.”
“I'll contact you before I go. I'm so sorry for what has happened.”
Petra sat on the sofa, still wrapped in the bath towel. She was dry now, but continued to shiver. She reflected on her lucky escape. Who would do such a thing? It must have been Roche before he left. Perhaps she was the target…or even Alexis, but why would he delay it for a whole day? More questions, but again no answers.
She checked her mobile…so many missed calls. She rang Alexis…no answer. Damn, she thought, where the hell is he? She decided to try Harcourt again. At last, a response. She was still in Marseille, but on the point of leaving. They exchanged news.
Petra slipped from her damp towel and dressed. As the warm clothing revitalised her circulation, her mind focussed on her next course of action. Despite all the bad news, she determined to remain positive. There was no way that she would contemplate returning to the U.K. until she had found Alexis. Roche was now a possible murder suspect, probably fleeing from the crime scene at this moment. She was convinced that he would be on his way to meet up with Dumas.
In her mind, there seemed to be only one logical place to be…Marseille. She rang Harcourt again. The detective needed little persuasion to delay her return and offered to meet her if Petra could arrange a flight. Massey would not be happy, but two very determined females would be confronting him.
Immediately, Petra booked via the internet a late afternoon flight to Lyon and a connection from there to Marseille, due to arrive at nine o'clock that evening. She called Harcourt with the details. The detective promised to meet her, despite Massey's angry protestations. It was one contest that he could never win.
Feeling extremely guilty, Petra decided against updating Rob. He would order her to return to the U.K. Apart from her determination to exact retribution on Roche, her other personal mission was also still incomplete. How could she walk away and ignore one of the best-kept secrets of the twentieth century?
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