‘Monday? That’s fine.’
She gulped inwardly. ‘Perfect.’
Luc arrived. ‘What’s perfect?’ he said, just as Jane drew alongside too.
‘I’m spending Monday with Max,’ Jenny announced.
She watched her father throw a look at Jane as if he hoped she’d offer to chaperone.
Max didn’t see it but even so he extended his invitation. ‘Jane, are you working or visiting?’
‘Visiting. Until this week Jenny and Luc were perfect strangers to me.’
‘Then let me show you my Paris as well.’ He looked at Luc. ‘Mr Ravens has an appointment down south, I gather, so if you two lovely ladies are at a loose end, please allow me to chaperone you around the City of Light.’
Jenny frowned. ‘Dad, where are you going?’
He hesitated. ‘Well, I was planning to see someone I used to know in Lyon,’ he lied.
‘I thought we’d go to Saignon together.’
‘Oh, Jenny, we will. I wouldn’t dream of going without you.’
He herded them out and wasted no time ordering a taxi but Jenny was convinced her father was hiding something. And whatever it was, Max Vogel was in on the secret.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Luc deposited Jenny early the next morning into a glorious suite in the hotel that the general manager lived in. He’d given her a reassuring hug but she’d barely looked over her shoulder as she and her new companion scuttled off, chattering excitedly. He and the manager’s wife, Chantal, swapped the smile that relieved parents share when children look settled and happy.
‘I shall be here with our daughters all of today,’ Chantal said in her smoky voice.
‘It’s very kind of you to have Jenny. I will be out tonight and may not be in the hotel until much later. Are you still comfortable about Jenny staying overnight?’
‘Of course. We have been looking forward to it. Juliette has the whole day and night plotted out.’
‘I’m sure she’ll have a wonderful time. Thank you, Madame Pernot.’
Luc returned to his room and sat down at the desk. He’d lain awake the previous night, the sound of Jenny’s regular breathing sighing from the bed next to his, and he used the quiet hours to hatch a plan.
He knew it couldn’t be too tight; he needed to leave room for spontaneous decisions because he didn’t know what he would be walking into. Naturally he would have preferred to have more time to plot, but he reminded himself that during the war when he was a proper Maquisard, living rough in the hills of Provence, he and Laurent were like the gunslingers they’d seen in Westerns as young men. In fact, the older men called them ‘the cowboys’.
Sadly, Laurent’s luck had run out and he’d been publicly executed in the Gordes town square. Laurent had offered himself as a Maquisard out of patriotism but Luc had been driven by a darkness of revenge that travelled in his soul.
Could he be responsible for another deliberate death?
He remembered Milicien Landry, the French policeman who aided the German round-up of Jews in the southern region. Luc had slit the man’s throat in 1943 for beating his grandmother to her death. Surely von Schleigel, who ordered the execution of two of his sisters, deserved the same outcome? Luc stared absently while this question hung heavily in his mind. It was the first time since he’d received Max’s letter that he’d acknowledged why he’d made this trip. He had come to end von Schleigel’s life. While the rage of years past was never far from his mind, its heat had cooled since he’d found his peace in Australia. He was nearly two decades older and with age came wisdom.
So he asked himself now, what would killing von Schleigel actually achieve? Landry’s death had occurred in wartime. Taking von Schleigel’s life now would be cold-blooded, premeditated murder. It wouldn’t return the lost; it wouldn’t bring him any peace – he knew that. It wouldn’t even be satisfying. He wasn’t even that sure he knew how to kill any more.
Nevertheless, von Schleigel’s close presence in Provence was pricking Luc’s conscience like a numb limb coming back to life with the curious and uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles. It was the notion that von Schleigel had escaped punishment that was stirring his blood. And while he had no right to be anyone’s judge and jury during peacetime, this man had probably ordered the murder of countless innocents without a moment’s consternation.
‘He must be held accountable!’ he growled at the flock wallpaper.
Von Schleigel was living a nice life versus every member of the Bonet family dead. The Bonets were not unique, but Luc was in the rare position of being able to square off with the man who’d brought about the deaths of three beloved innocents and countless others, he reasoned. He didn’t think for a moment that Sarah, Rachel or Wolf would want him to take this man’s life, but they weren’t here to play devil’s advocate with him.
The fact was he’d promised von Schleigel a reckoning two decades ago; he would have to find a way to end the Nazi’s life without blood on his hands, but was that possible?
Opening Max’s file, Luc looked again at the grainy photo and felt his resolve lock into place as he began to read the carefully prepared notes.
The former Gestapo officer was now sixty-one. He wore glasses and walked with a slight limp, and Luc was right, he had remained as wily as ever. Max had apparently tested Frédéric Segal, speaking to him innocently in German while ordering an ice cream sundae the previous summer. Segal had apparently hesitated for barely a heartbeat before apologising in careful French that he did not understand German. But Max had been looking for the hesitation … and heard it; saw it. Nevertheless it was clear the hunted man never let down his guard.
Luc read on that his enemy had married Gwenoline, now fifty-seven, and they had two daughters, Brigitte, nineteen, and Valerie, eighteen. Gwenoline and Brigitte worked at the café but Valerie was at university in Chambery. Luc hated learning that von Schleigel had become a family man; he didn’t deserve the happiness of a wife and children, although Luc couldn’t concern his thoughts with von Schleigel’s loved ones. They had no idea of the monster in their lives and would surely be horrified if they knew of his past life. Or maybe his wife did know? If so, then not sparing her feelings suddenly felt a lot easier to justify.
Max detailed that the Segal family lived well in the salubrious area of Fontaine-de-Vaucluse. They supported two cars, enjoyed picnics on a Monday when the café was closed – not in tourist season, of course, Max warned – and took holidays each year in Italy or Switzerland. How Max had found out this information, Luc couldn’t imagine, but he had to hand it to the young man. He’d managed to build a comprehensive snapshot of the man’s life.
Luc studied Max’s next page, which was devoted to von Schleigel’s routine. He was rarely away from the café but the best time to isolate him was during his morning exercise. He liked to arrive at the café early: five a.m. in summer, and just prior to daybreak in winter. From there, before he’d even opened up, he would walk the town, or he might cycle – following the river, usually – and approximately weekly he would hike up to the source of the River Sorgue, which was undeveloped and saw few people.
I don’t know if this is caution against predictability or capriciousness. If you choose to confront him, it cannot be by ambush because he keeps to no pattern with his exercise, although this time is the only period – day or night – when he is alone, Max had written alongside his notes.
Luc looked away from the file, staring out of the window, his gaze distant as he considered the implications of Max’s warning. There was no question that the only option was to confront von Schleigel on the mountain. He remembered its isolation vividly from the Bonet family trips there during his childhood.
He could picture the summit in his mind’s eye, clearly remembering looking down the 230-metre cliff face to where the exceptionally green water, like liquid emerald, tumbled down the rocks. It flowed, sparkling and winking, through the town and into others that in the previous century had made
use of its speed and force through water mills.
I think he says his prayers up here, Max noted. Perhaps he seeks absolution? It was obvious he had reached the identical conclusion that this lonely spot above the town was the only place to take von Schleigel by surprise.
You will need to coerce him, Max had scribbled and underlined.
Luc shook his head at the risk Kilian’s son had clearly taken to compile this valuable information. He stood, restlessly began to pace the room, feeling irritated. Max had known yesterday that he was essentially loading a bullet into a gun when he’d handed over that file. He’d never doubted that Luc would want to take his revenge on von Schleigel. He bit his bottom lip as his thoughts scattered like a tin of dropped marbles, rolling away to all corners.
This wasn’t working. He needed to think clearly without any emotion, especially if he was going to survive the confrontation. A man like von Schleigel would be used to looking over his shoulder and being suspicious of every stranger who asked an odd question. Max had either been exceptionally smart with his research, or really so naive that he’d somehow got away with it.
Luc banged the wall with his fist. ‘Putain!’ he swore softly. He understood why Lisette had implored Kilian’s son not to contact her again; she had known that Luc would be unable to leave this alone. Yes, he was certainly predictable and that made him all the more annoyed. He needed distraction and then his mind would clear.
He closed the file, locked it away in his briefcase, grabbed his hat, coat and scarf and left the room. Not permitting himself to question his motives or his actions, he left the hotel, climbing into a cab.
‘Yes, sir?’ the taxi driver asked.
Luc gave the driver the name of a hotel on the Left Bank.
Not much later he was standing in its lobby, dialling the hotel operator.
‘Mademoiselle Aplin, please,’ he said, not daring to hesitate. If he did, he’d have the excuse to back out and run.
‘Thank you, monsieur,’ the singsong voice said and he heard clicks and beeps before a ringing tone sounded. He waited, deciding that if she didn’t answer within two or three rings, he’d hang up. One …
‘Jane Aplin,’ she said, her voice sounding breathy. The hotel switchboard clicked away and left them to their conversation.
He swallowed. ‘Jane, it’s Luc,’ he said, holding his breath.
‘Luc? Good grief. I wasn’t expec—’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted you.’
‘Don’t apologise. It’s a lovely surprise. Is everything all right? Jenny’s fine?’
‘She’s great.’
‘And you?’
‘I …’ He hesitated, genuinely unsure of what to say. ‘Well, alone and needing distraction, I decided to take a walk and found myself here.’
‘Here? In my hotel?’
He felt ridiculous. ‘I was passing, thought I’d drop in and see if you were free for a coffee.’
The silence was not awkward, but it was telling.
‘Jane, listen, I’m sorry,’ he leapt in. ‘We’re seeing each other tonight, right? I guess I was just avoiding the work in my briefcase—’
‘Luc?’
He swallowed, deeply embarrassed. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m in room 251. I’ll let the front desk know I’ve invited you up.’ The line went dead before he could respond.
Luc stared at the receiver. Was this what he wanted? In a fog of conflicting thoughts he replaced the phone in its cradle and glanced at the front desk. He paused, watched the man answer a call, then nod Luc’s way. He had no choice now. He walked to the lift, feeling as though an invisible hand were pushing him along.
‘Which floor, monsieur?’ the bellhop asked.
‘Two, please,’ he said, looking vague, hoping his distraction would discourage the youngster from making any polite conversation.
It did. He stepped out of the elevator, relieved when the lift doors closed and he heard it groan back down. Luc swallowed, checked his tie in the mirror, straightened his hair and squared his shoulders. He arrived silently to stand outside the door of room 251. This was the moment. He could turn and run, and while it might offend, he would have no further complication in his life. If he knocked on this door, he was opening himself up to what could potentially be a decision with rippling repercussions … unless of course he’d only imagined that tone in her voice and she was really pulling on scarf and gloves to head out for a coffee with him.
He blinked, raised his hand, taking in everything from the brass number of the door to the scent of daphne in a central vase, which had followed him down the corridor, haunting him with its sweet clove fragrance.
He hadn’t realised he’d knocked until he dropped his hand back to his side. Jane opened the door and stood before him brazenly in a silver-grey satin bathrobe, rubbing at her toffee-coloured wet hair with a towel. Her breasts jiggled invitingly beneath the slippery sheath of fabric. Definitely not getting ready for coffee, he decided.
‘I had a massage this morning and took a long bath as a treat,’ she explained because he obviously must have looked surprised.
‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Don’t be, come in,’ she said easily, walking back into the room. ‘Take your coat off. I can order up some coffee if you …’
She turned, stopped speaking abruptly as she took in his famished gaze. Luc knew he was staring. Her eyes, the colour of a forest, looked dewy … almost sleepy in the aftermath of the massage and the warm tub after it. She smelt of bath oil – jasmine, frankincense and sandalwood. The deep ‘V’ of skin showing beneath her robe was flushed from the warmth of the water and he could see moisture glistening in the cleavage of her breasts. His breathing stilled and he felt paralysed in a moment of pure lust.
Jane chose to fill this awkward moment with an unexpected gesture by untying her robe and allowing it to fall open. She was predictably naked beneath and the fact that she didn’t let the soft robe fall off her shoulders and to the ground made the gesture all the more erotic. He could see the heavy swell of her breasts but her nipples, hardening beneath the satin, stayed tantalising hidden. He didn’t take another moment to let his gaze roam in further exploration. In a single step he closed the distance between them and reached hungrily for her. Jane let herself go limp in his arms initially but once his mouth had found hers and their passion had ignited, he felt her arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer still, and she allowed him to put his hands beneath the robe and curl into the small of her back. She sighed into his kiss, her tongue anxiously seeking his.
Luc lost himself. Everything that had been crowding his mind fled. It was as if he was in an empty space that glowed with a molten light, where only he and Jane were illuminated. Nothing intruded. As long as their mouths searched each other, they were connected and remained isolated in their warmth, their glow, their desire. It was only when he finally pulled his pleasingly swollen lips away did real life intrude, flooding back into the empty space between them.
Suddenly there was Lisette and Harry plus the disapproving faces of his good friends back in Launceston. But mostly there was Jenny. He could imagine her scowling with disbelief; feeling betrayed, cheated, angered.
Jane looked instantly ashamed, as if she too had her own demons tutting at her, but it was also as though she could see his dead wife standing alongside them; his daughter’s dismay.
To stop them saying anything in this moment that they might regret, Luc pulled her close, hugging her, loving the feel of a woman’s soft skin once more, feeling his treacherous lust soaring again, demanding release.
‘No one else is here, Luc,’ she whispered from his shoulder. ‘We’re not hurting anyone.’
He shifted his angle to look at her. ‘I’m sorry to make you feel unsure,’ he said. ‘It’s not you.’
‘I know,’ she said, and surprised him with a naughty grin. ‘But this is my first time too since … since my husband. And it feels right. I want you to know t
hat.’
He cupped her face, enjoying being this close to her almond eyes, her flawless honeyed skin. Luc ran his fingers through her gently tangled damp hair. ‘I don’t want to use you, Jane.’
‘You’re not,’ she said firmly. ‘But I felt it on the rue Scribe. We were destined to meet. Fate, I think.’
He stared at her, slightly shocked.
‘What’s wrong?’ She frowned.
Luc shook his head. ‘Something Max said that was along the same lines. He believed his and my paths were fated to intersect.’
‘There’s something between the two of you.’
‘What do you mean?’ He knew he sounded defensive.
She shrugged. ‘I won’t pry.’
He kissed her, appreciating her careful ways. This time they kissed slowly, their desire stoking more gently, their caresses more hesitant, definitely tender. Finally, with a soft moan, Jane took one of his hands and placed it on her breast. Luc sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.
He broke the kiss slowly. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded and he could see the need in her expression. It had been a long time for both of them; she was right. They were not deliberately hurting anyone and were both in a position to make this decision without betraying other relationships. He didn’t think Jenny would agree but she was still a child to him – no matter how grown up she acted – and she had a lot yet to learn about the world and its relationships. Besides, he defied any man to ignore the pleasure of a full, eager breast in one hand, its beautiful and consenting owner’s lips on his mouth and a teasing nipple beginning to stiffen beneath his attention.
Luc separated from Jane and began pulling off clothes, throwing them on the ground. She smiled and cast her robe entirely aside and pulled back the freshly made bedclothes to lie down while she watched him undress. He also couldn’t take his eyes off her. Jane’s body was spectacular to him. Having not had the burden of carrying a child, her belly was still taut, dipping sensuously between the soft outline of her pelvis and her navel. As he climbed into bed, eagerly covering her body with his, he calmed his urgency, raising himself on his elbows above her to consider her features.
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