by Mark Hebden
‘I have to take a chance on that.’
‘You’re taking a lot of chances.’
‘Yes. But that’s another reason why I’ll be happy to have one of your men in the back. In addition to being able to shoot me if I run, if Ourdabi turns up, he’ll also be able to shoot him.’
Nineteen
‘I don’t believe in deals,’ the Chief observed grimly.
‘Neither do I,’ Pel admitted. ‘But if it brings in everybody we’re looking for instead of just a few odds and ends who don’t matter, it’s worth it.’
‘What sort of deal have you in mind?’
‘We could arrange to look a little lightly on Cavalin. He hasn’t been involved in murder as far as we can find out.’
‘He was involved in handling Tagliatti’s business.’
Pel agreed, but there was something about Cavalin – his sense of humour; his loyalty to Tagliatti’s wife, perhaps; the fact that he was willing to help so long as she went free. It was against all his principles of dealing with villains, but after listening to his arguments, the Chief threw up his hands.
‘Very well! Go ahead.’
The deal with Cavalin was concluded and the code word, Nabulione Buonaparti, was passed over.
‘Not Napoleon Bonaparte,’ Cavalin said. ‘The name he was born with. Not many know the original. They consider him a French hero. Actually he was more of an Italian shit like Maurice.’
‘You’re taking a chance, Patron,’ Darcy said as the office emptied. ‘Harding will pass on the information to Ourdabi.’
‘I wonder if he will,’ Pel said. ‘You heard Cavalin say Ourdabi has no patience and that he’s clumsy. Harding tipped him off to get rid of young Pasquier and look what a mess he made of it. Harding might prefer to act on his own this time. After all, the gold was his. He lifted it. He won’t want Ourdabi muscling in.’
Darcy was still worried and Pel tried to calm his fears.
‘It’s not normal police procedure,’ he agreed. ‘But the outcome of a weak case depends on retaining the initiative. And that means making sure the other side dance to your tune.’
‘This is different, Patron.’
‘It’s legitimate so long as there’s a risk to the interests of justice and our investigation. Every cop knows the time comes eventually when he has to justify his actions. The risk’s self-evident and if he makes a mistake he lays his career on the line. There are plenty of lawyers willing and eager to make money by impeding the law.’
‘Won’t New Scotland Yard demand that we deport Maurice’s lot for their airport robbery?’
‘I’d rather they deported Harding and his lot for our murder. It would look better in our statistics than in theirs. You know what they say, Daniel: when the firemen give a ball, it’s always the same types who do the dancing. It’s like that with us. We’re the ones who take the responsibility. I’ll chance it.’
Cavalin had been rehearsed in what to say by Darcy, with De Troq’, who spoke English, sitting in to check that he was saying what he was expected to say. Then he spent a sweating hour with Pel, Darcy and De Troq’ alongside, arranging a rendezvous, while they listened in on a loudspeaker.
The conversation started warily in slow French. ‘I want to speak to Monsieur Hazard,’ Cavalin said.
There was a pause then a brisk voice came. ‘This is Hazard. Who’s that?’
‘This is Nabulione Buonaparti. I know where the goods are.’
There was a long silence then one word. ‘Where?’
‘I can’t describe it. You’d have to come and I’d lead you there.’
As Cavalin had suggested, a rendezvous at the bottom of the hill at Lordy was offered and a time two days ahead.
‘How do I know this is genuine?’ Harding asked.
‘You know who I am. I’ll be sitting in my Range Rover. If I’m not there when you appear, it’ll mean something’s gone wrong and you can just drive on.’
There was a long pause, then, ‘Let’s hear the rest of the story. What’s the drill?’
‘You drive up from the direction of Leu. Go straight past me as if you don’t know me. That will give you a chance to identify me and for me to identify you. As soon as you’ve passed I’ll follow and pass you and lead you direct to where the goods are hidden. It’s not far.’
‘How do we know the cops aren’t in on this?’
‘Haven’t you asked Ourdabi?’ This was one of Pel’s questions to find out how much Ourdabi knew. The answer came promptly and grittily.
‘To hell with Ourdabi! He couldn’t run a whelk stall. What he wants and what he gets are two different matters.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I don’t know and I don’t care. It’s you I’m interested in. What about the cops? I want something better than this.’
Cavalin paused. ‘I’ll be coming from Talant,’ he said. ‘I’ll stop at the corner below Lordy. You’ll be able to see into the Range Rover as you pass, and make sure there’s nobody in it but me. As soon as you’ve passed, I follow you round the corner and lead the way.’
‘All right.’ Harding seemed satisfied.
‘You’ll need something solid to carry the stuff.’
‘Right.’
‘You might need some help.’
‘I’ll bring Coy and Braxton. What’s your interest?’
‘A share.’
‘We don’t share. The stuff’s ours.’
‘I’m not asking for Maurice’s share. Just enough to get me to Brazil. I want out.’
There was another long pause then Harding’s voice came again. ‘What’s the guarantee that this isn’t a set-up?’
Cavalin drew a deep breath. ‘I’m the guarantee,’ he said briskly. ‘If you think it’s all a phoney, all you have to do is what you did to Maurice.’
The conversation ended abruptly, as though the man at the other end had simply replaced the receiver.
Pel looked at Cavalin. ‘Think he bit?’ he asked.
Cavalin shrugged. ‘If he turns up,’ he said, ‘he did. If he doesn’t, it didn’t work.’
Pel was still doubtful.
Cavalin explained. ‘The corner at Lordy’s overlooked by bushes and trees,’ he said. ‘They won’t want to hang about long but they’ll slow down alongside me for a second to make sure the Range Rover isn’t full of flics. There’s a tarpaulin in the back, though, so, as Harding’s lot vanish round the corner, one of your people dives out of the bushes and into the back of the Range Rover. I’ll have the door unfastened ready. He gets under the tarpaulin – a matter of seconds – and I follow Harding. I pass him, going fast, and lead them to Deville’s. I shall be moving at speed from the moment your man’s inside because if I don’t get in front of them they’ll grab me. That’s what they want. It would be a much surer way of getting the gold than simply following me.’
‘All right,’ Pel said. ‘Suppose it goes according to plan?’
‘In that case, as I say, I shall be arriving at Perrenet very fast indeed. Because of that, they’ll be moving fast, too. So your people had better make sure they move even faster.’
‘And your share? They’ll not put a cheque in the bank before they get the gold. And they certainly won’t put one in afterwards. You haven’t mentioned that part yet.’
Cavalin’s smile came again. ‘Are you kidding yourself, Chief? They won’t be expecting to pay up. As soon as they get their hands on the gold, they’ll expect to get rid of me.’
Pel stared at Cavalin. ‘You’ll take that chance, too?’
‘Yes.’
‘For Sidonie?’
Maurice Tagliatti’s black Cadillac had been found in St Seine l’Abbaye but they still had no idea where Ourdabi, Sagassu and Guérin were. Pel guessed that they weren’t far away, with their ears to the ground, waiting to see what would happen. As far as they could tell, they had no idea that Cavalin was in police custody and he suspected they were watching the Manoir de Lordy for him to return to pick up his belongings.<
br />
Then Murray telephoned. ‘What have you been stirring up?’ he demanded. ‘There’s been a lot of activity at Harding’s house. His wife’s away and the lights were on all night. Two cars appeared and left, driven by Coy and Braxton. We’ve got a tap on the telephone and we heard Harding ordering three separate seats on a flight to Paris from Gatwick. He’s just left. We assume the other two seats were for Braxton and Coy.’
‘Check the hotels Daniel,’ Pel said, putting the instrument down.
Bardolle was keeping an eye on the Hôtel Central in Dijon. Harding seemed to be a creature of habit and, sure enough, Bardolle was on the telephone just as they expected.
‘He’s here,’ he reported. ‘Together with the other two. A grey van’s also turned up. I checked. It’s hired.’
Replacing the telephone, Pel turned to Darcy. ‘Is Nosjean in position?’
‘Any time now, Patron. Brochard reported that a green Renault was prowling round the corner at Lordy last evening. He thinks it might have been Harding’s lot casing the place for a set-up. Nosjean keeps well back in the wood and will continue to do so until an hour before Cavalin’s due to arrive.’
They started to place their men in position well ahead of time. Still doing the rounds of the Roblais family’s fences and hedges on the south side of the farm, Brochard was warned to keep his eyes open. He was pleased to do so because Héloïse Roblais had taken to turning up at his side in the evening with so much make-up on her face it looked as if it had been spread with a trowel. She was clearly determined to get him somehow.
Darcy’s men were placed in the outbuildings round Deville’s studio, all with good viewpoints over the drive. The blue van which had called to collect Deville’s hideous statues had vanished and in its place was another one belonging to the police. A policeman in a blue smock and bearded to look like Deville was visible inside the house.
‘Everybody in position?’ Pel asked.
‘Everybody,’ Darcy reported.
‘Who’s riding with Cavalin?’
‘Morell. He knows exactly what’s happening. There’ll be five men on the corner when Cavalin appears. Nosjean has orders to put a bullet into Cavalin if he shows any sign of trying any tricks.’
‘Has Cavalin been briefed?’
‘He knows the score. He’ll be led from Talant by an unmarked police car which will restrict his speed and he’ll be followed closely by another so he’ll not be able to slip away. As he stops on the corner at Lordy, the two cars move on towards Perrenet as if they just happened to be going in the same direction. As they leave, Cavalin will be covered by Nosjean’s men. He has instructions to stop exactly opposite them and if he doesn’t they have instructions to let him have it. They’ll shoot the tyres out for a start. After that…’ Darcy shrugged. ‘He knows the spot because I’ve taken him over the ground, and they can’t miss because I’ve had the two front windows of the Range Rover removed – just in case they have to shoot at him.’
‘Has everybody had plenty of opportunity to study the pictures we have of Harding?’
‘Everybody. And Bardolle’s joined Lagé at Perrenet. They’re watching the entrance to Deville’s place. Lagé has his car and it’ll be their job when Harding’s lot enter the drive to follow at a distance so they’ll be bottled up inside. Once in the drive, they can’t get out without going to the house to turn round. We’ll be waiting.’
‘Have we heard from Brochard?’
‘Not for some time. Perhaps he’s busy.’
Twenty
Brochard was indeed busy. He was in the attic of the Roblais farm watching Ourdabi.
He had discovered that much the best place from which to watch the Manoir was not from the boundaries of the farm but from the attic. He had taken to it originally in defence from Héloïse Roblais because her suggestions had started to become quite outrageous. She had even offered to help him clear the sluices of the dam in one of the lower pastures.
‘It’d mean taking your clothes off and getting into the water,’ she pointed out.
‘Not likely,’ Brochard said, looking for any excuse. ‘That’s hard work. I’d be flat on my back.’
It didn’t work. ‘I could be flat on mine if you prefer it,’ she’d offered.
Brochard had even been tempted – after all, it was easy enough to die a virgin – but he was terrified of Pel if he fell down on the job and he had managed to fight her off and begun to seek somewhere he could be nearer the safety of the rest of the family. The attic had seemed perfect and he was there now with old Roblais, his son, Gilles, and Héloïse, who was sulking in a battered armchair with a sagging seat. Brochard had just discovered that Ourdabi had turned up at last and he could even see him, with Guérin and Sagassu, whose arm, though out of a sling, still seemed to be stiff. They were on the high ground just behind the Manoir and just below the Roblais farm and he had been obliged to admit Roblais and his son into his confidence to get a better view of what was going on.
Ourdabi held a pair of binoculars and was staring towards the Manoir. Near him stood a big black Citroën.
‘What are they looking for?’ Roblais asked.
Brochard wasn’t sure but he suspected that, having assumed that Cavalin had gone into hiding after the fiasco at Leu, they were waiting for him to return to lead them to the stolen bullion. Brochard had been well briefed and he could think of no other reason for the interest in the Manoir.
Then he noticed that Roblais was rooting around among the junk that filled the attic, pushing aside an old-fashioned cradle, a broken pram, a three-legged sofa oozing stuffing. As he straightened up, Brochard saw he had a telescope in his hand.
‘It was my uncle’s,’ he said. ‘He went to sea. Can you imagine? Going to sea from Burgundy! It’s about as far from the ocean as you can get in Europe. He became a captain. Sailed out of St Nazaire.’ He indicated a crude painting of a windjammer on the wall. ‘That was his ship. We got his belongings when he died.’
Brochard eyed the telescope. ‘Is it powerful enough to see into the Manoir?’ he asked.
Héloïse gave a sour chuckle. ‘It was powerful enough for us to see what old Lordy got up to in the maids’ bedrooms,’ she said. ‘I watched him many a time.’
Nosjean, Lacocq, Debray, Morell and a man from Uniformed Branch had been in the copse at Lordy all night. They were cold and in a bad temper and more than willing to shoot Cavalin. Given a chance, they’d have shot anyone. As the Range Rover drew to a stop, the two escorting plain cars – both supplied by Traffic and driven by policemen – moved on, as if they were driven by perfectly innocent travellers who had just happened to be moving in the same direction. The leading car continued at its steady pace and the following car drew out, swung round the Range Rover and headed up the winding slope towards Perrenet. It all looked very normal.
With the Range Rover’s windows missing, Nosjean called out to let Cavalin know he was there. ‘No tricks,’ he said. ‘We have rifles with telescopic sights on both sides pointed straight at you.’
Cavalin’s face twisted in a smile. ‘No tricks,’ he agreed. ‘You hold the ace.’
‘Any sign of them?’
‘No. Any sign of them last night?’
‘There are indications they’ve been around – at least, I expect it was them, looking for signs of a set-up.’
They waited in silence for a moment. ‘Perhaps they won’t come,’ Cavalin said quietly.
‘They’d better,’ Nosjean said. ‘Or the Old Man will explode.’
‘He explodes easily?’
‘You bet he does, so one false move and we give it to you.’
‘Could you do it?’
Nosjean shrugged. His attitude to crooks, like Darcy’s and that of every other member of the team, had been drilled into him by Pel. ‘I don’t have a conscience about that sort of thing,’ he said.
With the end of the telescope poked from the attic window, Brochard was staring towards the Manoir. The place sprang into immediate visi
on, then, as he directed the telescope towards Ourdabi, Brochard saw him point and Guérin snatch the binoculars from him. They were staring towards Perrenet. Something had caught their attention and Brochard pointed the telescope in that direction.
‘Let’s have a look,’ Gilles Roblais asked.
‘Hang on!’ Brochard’s voice rose. ‘They’re leaving! Something down there’s caught their attention. Hold it!’ Brochard became excited. ‘I’ve got it. It’s Cavalin’s Range Rover. He’s just come up from Leu.’
Among the bushes on the corner, Nosjean tapped Morell on the shoulder.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
Morell nodded and laid down the rifle he’d been holding.
‘As soon as they round the corner, you’ve got three seconds to get into the back of the Range Rover. Cavalin’s got the door ajar.’
‘What if they don’t go round the corner? Suppose they stop this side?’
‘In that case, you’d better be quick to pick up that rifle again.’
‘What are they driving?’
‘We think a grey van. I – hold it! Something’s coming!’ Nosjean peered through the foliage. ‘It’s a van – a grey van. This must be them. They must have been watching from the hill back there and seen Cavalin arrive. They haven’t wasted time.’
Brochard wasn’t worried when Cavalin didn’t reappear from beyond the trees and bushes on the corner below him – he knew the plan – but suddenly he saw the men who were watching the Manoir begin to head down the hill to the house, then stop, point and start to retrace their steps towards the black Citroën.
He guessed they’d seen Cavalin and, realising that he wasn’t about to turn up at the Manoir, as they’d obviously thought, they were going down the hill to pick him up. The whole plan was suddenly in jeopardy.
As he watched the road winding away up the slope towards Perrenet, Brochard saw it was quite empty. But then, labouring up from Leu to the corner where he’d seen the Range Rover he saw a grey van of the type that delivered goods to shops.