The Secret Of The Cathars (2011)

by Michael Hillier

  He motioned her to the chair which he had put ready for her, set at ninety degrees to his own. “I’m afraid the news is not good,” he began. “I met your father and I was able to talk to him alone. He didn’t appear to be under any obvious pressure from the others. However he refused to even consider leaving Marseilles.”

  She sat down heavily. “I knew he wouldn’t come.” She gazed down at the paving at her feet. “You don’t get away from the Force that easily.”

  “What do you mean?” He had been prepared for her to be upset, perhaps tearful. He was surprised to hear this fatalistic acceptance of his failure.

  She looked up at him, half-defiantly. “Once you are a member of the inner circle you know too much to be set free. The only way out is death or, funnily enough, a long term of imprisonment.”

  “How is that?”

  “Once you have been jailed you are a marked man. Your anonymity has gone. When you are released the Force won’t have anything more to do with you. They know the police have your number. You are the first person to be suspected when a crime is committed. You can never get away from that.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “You are an unacceptable risk.”

  “Don’t they still care for members who have been jailed as a result of serving the Force?”

  “Oh, yes. They will pension them off - as far away from Marseilles as possible. But they won’t be permitted to have contact with any of their former colleagues.”

  “Wouldn’t they be willing to pension off your father?”

  “No.” She looked down at her hands and appeared to be marshalling her thoughts before she spoke again. “I realised that he was in very serious danger as soon as he was disabled. He has become a liability to the Force. I’m very much afraid he will be eliminated unless I can stop it.”

  “What can you do about it?”

  She didn’t answer him directly. Instead she turned to him. “You did your best, Alain. It had to be tried.” She shook her head slightly. “But I knew he wouldn’t come back here. That’s why I couldn’t bear to go to Marseilles with you.”

  “I see.”

  “And what I didn’t tell you, Alain - although I suppose I ought to have done - is that if, for some strange reason, they had allowed you to take him away it would also have put both of us in dreadful danger. We would have had to flee from this place within a few days. He must have known that. It’s probably one reason why he wouldn’t come with you.”

  “Really?” It was the first time this thought had struck him. “Do you think we’re still in danger?”

  “No. I don’t think so - at least not until they have found the treasure. They won’t risk losing that.”

  She took a large gulp of her wine and looked down the valley into the distance. Alain also put his glass thoughtfully to his lips. For a long time neither of them spoke, contemplating what might have been. They were both digesting the unpalatable fact of being involved with La Force Marseillaise. After a while Cesar put down her glass and rose.

  “Let us prepare the meal,” she suggested.

  Alain followed her through the cottage to the back kitchen. This making of the evening meal together before they ate it on the terrace as darkness fell had become a regular routine which they both enjoyed. But this evening it was overshadowed by their earlier conversation. What Alain wanted to ask her was where she had been the previous night. However he was aware that they had both been careful in the past not to presume on their developing relationship and he did not feel able to change that now. So they both worked in silence.

  At last he said, “I was horrified to hear of the death of that young fellow up at the chateau. Have you heard what happened?”

  She looked sharply at him and for the first time he fancied that he detected a slight hesitation in her manner. “All I have been told,” she said carefully, “is that he fell from one of the cliffs below the castle.”

  “And that was enough to kill him?”

  “Well, it is more than thirty metres. And I understand he fell on to rocks at the foot of the cliff. I was told that his body was dreadfully broken when it was recovered. That’s all I know.”

  “You nevertheless seem to have picked up quite a bit about the accident.”

  She laughed, not altogether lightly. “I am a journalist. It is my job to be where the news is. I also found out that the dead man was quite important. He is the sort of second-in-command of the whole operation.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I don’t know any more about it. I believe the police are still investigating. Apparently one of the other archaeologists is alleging that he had been in an argument with some Englishman who was visiting the site, but I don’t know if that had anything to do with the accident.”

  Hebert was silent for a while as he worked out how to broach the next subject. “When I was in Marseilles I had a talk with Montlucon. As you and I had discussed, I told him that we wanted to delay uncovering the treasure until the archaeologists had finished at le Bezu because we felt the publicity surrounding the making of the television series would risk our secrecy.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “He was very angry. He said there was no question of a delay. The Force had invested a lot of money in preparing the operation and they weren’t willing to put off getting a return on the investment.”

  “Well I did warn you that they probably wouldn’t be receptive to your suggestion.”

  “You did.” He paused before continuing. “Do you think the death of this young man will make the archaeologists close down their exploration?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. I think it is likely that they may be in trouble for not taking sufficient safety precautions and the authorities may at least insist that they don’t continue without making the place much safer. Perhaps I ought to try and find out what their plans are now.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about that. What I was thinking about was that it was suspicious that this important young fellow suddenly has a fatal accident almost immediately after I have told Montlucon that their activities are likely to delay our getting at the treasure.”

  “What are you suggesting - that somebody from the Force gave him a push?”

  “Well,” said Hebert defensively, “they could have done it, couldn’t they? After all, they had enough time.”

  “Hardly.” She turned away and concentrated on her cooking.

  “It was at least twelve - maybe eighteen hours - after I’d spoken to Montlucon that he was killed. The Force can probably call on killers all over the place. You can’t tell me that it’s impossible.”

  “No,” she said carefully. “It’s not impossible.”

  What Alain really wanted to ask her was, “Where were you last night?” but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. He knew it would sound too much like an accusation. Besides he was uncertain of what her reply would be, and he was not sure in any case that he wanted to hear it. Instead he changed the subject.

  “Are you very upset about your father?”

  She shook her head and her voice was broken when she at last replied. “Well, I suppose I am upset. But I’m not surprised. I never expected that they would let him go. I just hoped that they could trust him enough after a lifetime of service.” Her voice trailed off.

  Alain moved to stand behind her. “Cesar.”

  She turned and almost fell into his arms, now sobbing uncontrollably. He held her against his chest and gazed out of the window at the gathering darkness.

  Alain Hebert found he was experiencing a new set of feelings in his rather old and solitary life. He was suddenly feeling ridiculously happy.

  - 13 -

  Bernard Cambray, Jacqueline’s agent and advisor, arrived at about midday the next day. He breezed in to the hotel lounge where Philip and several of the archaeologists were sitting having coffee. The man was a larger than life figure in his mid-fifties with thinning hair and a luxuriant ginger moustache. He was dressed in tweeds as though
prepared for a day out shooting in the country.

  Cambray was the perfect extrovert, seeming to embrace everyone in his welcoming bustle. The sombre atmosphere in the room brightened as soon as he arrived. Philip found himself smiling with the others at the fellow’s bonhomie, even though he could not understand more than a quarter of what the man said.

  “Oh, what a journey!” Bernard made the theatrical gesture of holding his hand to his forehead. “I can’t tell you how dreadful it has been - three accidents and of course there were lorries everywhere.”

  Indeed Philip calculated that he must have left Paris very early that morning to have arrived in the Pyrenees in time for a late coffee. It was a sure sign of the importance which he attached to his client. Or perhaps her contract with the television company was more onerous than he had understood.

  “Jackie.” he called, catching sight of her. He advanced across the room with his arms held wide. “Ma Cherie. How are you?”

  She rose to meet him, tears suddenly glistening on her cheeks through her smile. “Oh, Bernard, yesterday was a dreadful day.” Then she was enfolded in his bear-hug embrace.

  “My dear,” he announced to the room as he released her. “You must be strong. These awful things happen even to the famous - in fact, more often to the famous. I am sure you will rise above it, as you have risen above all the tests which have been set for you so far.”

  She smiled weakly and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Well, I don’t know -“

  “I must tell you, my dear, that I’ve been on the phone half the night - talking to all and sundry. I spoke to Alain of course - I believe it was five times in all. Between us we’ve got it all arranged for you.”

  “Alain Gisours?”

  “That’s right.” He explained to the room, “You know he’s the big boss at TV France.” He turned back to her. “Alain made me assure him that I would pass on his deepest sympathy to you. He said he realised how much you relied on young Jolyon. He knew you would be devastated by his death. However he also said that he knew what a fighter you were and he knew you wouldn’t let it set you back.”

  “That was good of him.”

  “My dear, he was back on the phone to me within twenty minutes to let me know that he had already sorted out the public safety side. You need have no fear that you will be investigated for any perceived failures in your safety organisation. All of those matters will be left to the police.”

  “Goodness! I’d never even thought -“

  “An hour later Alain was on again. He was already putting out feelers to find a suitable replacement. Of course I told him that the young feller who died had filled an essential role in your organisation - a sort of Mister Fixit combined with first lieutenant - if you know what I mean. I explained to him that somebody like that wouldn’t be easy to replace.”

  Jackie’s smile was strained. “Nobody will ever be able to replace Jo.”

  “They certainly will. Alain rang a third time soon after midnight to say he’d found just the right chap - and he’d made sure the fellow was available immediately.”

  “Mon dieu! He didn’t waste much time.”

  “Of course not,” retorted Bernard. “A man in his position doesn’t hang about. You must realise, Jackie, that there’s a lot riding on this one. In fact I’m not sure even now that you realise just how much. The whole series has been syndicated across Europe and North America. The translators are all lined up. There mustn’t be any delays. We can’t afford to waste time.”

  Philip noticed Jackie’s face had set in a harder line. “So who is this wonder man who’s going to solve all our problems?” she asked.

  “Wait a minute. I’ve got his name somewhere.” Cambray burrowed in his inside pocket and extracted a piece of paper. “Here we are. He’s a guy called Jean-Luc Lerenard. Have you heard of him?”

  “No, I have not. Who is he?” There was a hint of truculence in her tone and Philip guessed she might be a very strong-willed girl if she chose.

  “Well, I can tell you that he comes very highly recommended - by no less an authority than Abbe Dugard. You’ll have surely heard of him.”

  “Of course. Everyone in the archaeological world has heard of Bertrand Dugard. He’s a marvellous old boy. I spent two seasons with him towards the end of my doctorate. I learned a lot from him.”

  “So you’ll agree that this fellow must be something special.”

  “Well, I suppose so.” She smiled suddenly. “Is the Abbe still working at Prouille?”

  Cambray shook his head. “I wouldn’t know, my dear. ‘Fraid I didn’t think to ask. Is that important?”

  “I expect he’s still there. He’s been working his way through the site for more than a decade. Nobody has gone into a project in such depth as Bertrand.”

  “Then I’m sure he is.”

  “So - Alain’s taken on this new guy without asking me first, has he? What’s the fellow’s name again?”

  Cambray gave her shoulder as near to a gentle pat as he was able. “I’m sure he’s not trying to foist an unwanted man on you, my dear. If you have any reasonable strong objections to the fellow then things can be changed. But, as I told you, time is of the essence. Alain doesn’t want this hiccough to put things back. He was going to contact the authorities this morning to ensure that this accident won’t cause any delay to your excavations. He told me he’s got the cameras booked for next month.”

  “Next month!” The startled woman took a deep breath. “Oh, Bernard - I don’t know whether I’m ready to go back up there just yet.”

  “Now then, Jackie, you know we can’t hang about on this one. Programme time is already booked for late October. That’s the peak viewing period. Your faithful public can’t be let down.”

  “But what about Andre’s death?”

  “My dear, we can’t let one tragic accident wreck the whole project.”

  Gaston suddenly interrupted. “How do we know it was an accident?”

  “What?” For a few seconds Cambray’s ebullience seemed to have been deflated. “Surely it was an accident. What else could it have been?”

  Jackie gazed up into his face. “Who knows, Bernard? Why would Andre go up on to that exposed ridge at night? Why wasn’t he wearing a safety harness? Why should the anchor have been pulled loose? Gaston says that he checked all the ropes and the anchors at the end of every day’s work. Isn’t that right, Gaston?”

  “That’s absolutely right.” He stood up. “I checked every one of those anchors on Tuesday evening. Nothing was loose at that time. Nobody was working up where Andre was when he fell. There was no reason why the anchors should have worked loose by themselves.” He looked straight at Philip. “I believe that somebody went up there and deliberately loosened an anchor.”

  “And why,” she interrupted, “should Andre suddenly decide to go up into such an exposed area on his own at night when there was nobody else working on the site?” She shook her head. “He knew the risks. I’d especially accentuated to him that he shouldn’t behave in a reckless manner and he’d promised me he wouldn’t. If he’d had a reason to go up there, I’m sure he would have told someone else in the team and asked them to go with him.”

  “You think he was tricked up there?” gasped Cambray.

  “And the chap he would be most likely to contact if he suddenly decided to go up there would be Gaston. He’s our expert on rock climbing. Did he say anything to you, Gaston?”

  “Nope! I didn’t see him at all that evening.”

  “None of us did.” She took a breath. “We’ve discussed this among ourselves, Bernard, and we’re all mystified. I wasn’t here. I’d driven to Carcassonne that afternoon to do some research. I wanted to check up on some references in the Cathar museum. I didn’t get back until late and then I went straight to bed. The rest of the guys have told me that they were in the bar or resting in their rooms most of the evening.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Gaston. “Andre said he had a bit of a head
ache after dinner. We assumed he’d gone up to his room early to rest or to do some paperwork. He always had a lot of paperwork to do.”

  “So what are you saying?” asked the agent.

  Jacqueline shook her head. “We just don’t know, Bernard. We’ve got to wait for the police to finish their initial investigations. Then we may get some idea of what actually happened. The forensic team is up at the chateau this morning.”

  Gaston looked truculently at Philip. “I think there’s a good chance that it was murder. And I suspect it may be someone in this room.”

  “What?” Cambray’s startled gaze swept the hotel lounge. “Somebody here? Surely not!”

  “No,” agreed Jackie. “That’s just plain foolish, Gaston.”

  “Do you want me to leave you?” asked Philip, “So that you can discuss the evidence pointing to my guilt without my being able to deny it?”

  “No we don’t,” said Jacqueline firmly, crossing to his side. She turned on the climber. “You’re quite wrong, Gaston. You’ve blown up some minor disagreement beyond all proportion.” She turned back to Cambray. “But you can see, Bernard, that we are going to have to pause for a few days while things are sorted out.”

  The agent held up his hand. “OK. OK, I accept that. In any case this new guy, Lerenard, won’t arrive until Monday. Then it’ll obviously take you a day or two to bring him up to speed on what’s been happening so far.”

  “More than that, Bernard,” she said. “I want to do a thorough check up on the fellow.”

  “Check up? Why?”

  “Bernard,” she insisted, “I’ve never taken on a person before without knowing all about him. Now, of all times, is not the time to start.”

  “So how are you going to check him out?”

  “You can get a report from our normal people. And I’ll drive over to Prouille this afternoon and talk to Bertrand Dugard - that’s if he’s there and will see me. It’s only fifty kilometres away.” It was her turn to pat his arm. “Once I’ve had a chat with Bertrand I’ll feel happier about the new man.”

  “All right.” He shook his head. “But I’m afraid I can’t come with you, my dear. I’ve got to be back in Paris this evening.”