“I presume it is now in their bedroom at the hotel. But who is this man who seemed to be secretly guarding the place? He obviously didn’t object to them taking away whatever it was they had in the bag. He actually looked in the bag and Philip showed him what was there. Is this guy one of ours that they haven’t told us about?”
“I will check,” said Robert. “Meanwhile it is essential that you should immediately return to your watching brief.”
“You mean spying.”
“If you like. I have your phone number. If I get further instructions from Paris, I will contact you. Until then I want you to keep as close to Mademoiselle Blontard as you can.” He paused. “Oh, and there is one further thing.” He got up and went to the wardrobe. He lifted his suitcase down from the top shelf, opened it and extracted a soft leather bag which he handed to the young man. Armand opened the bag and looked inside. It contained an automatic pistol and several clips of ammunition.
“I am told that you know how to use these things.” There was a hint of distaste in Robert’s expression. “You are to do your best to prevent anybody removing any part of the contents of the downstairs room until you receive further instructions.”
“And what happens to me,” asked Armand, “if I kill a man with this?”
“Provided you use it in defence of the Council’s interest, I can inform you that you will be protected.”
Armand stood up and slung the bag over his shoulder with a muffled clink. “I will report any developments to you,” he said as he left the room.
- 29 -
“There’s a big van at the parking place,” announced Philip as they rounded the last bend below le Bezu.
“I wonder who that is? But don’t stop to find out. Drive straight on past and down to the farm.”
“Won’t they wonder who we are?””
“I don’t think so, as long as they see us disappearing into the distance. They’ll probably think we’re just locals on our way back to our isolated home.”
As they drove past, Jackie peered in through the van windows. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone in it anyway.” She slapped her knee. “I’ve just had a thought. I hope they’re not pinching stuff from the site, now it’s been closed.”
“Would it be the contractors who have been engaged by TV France to clear the place?”
“At this time of night?” She shook her head. “Besides it’s too soon for them to have got here.”
They parked the car and walked back down the track. A blustery wind had got up, swaying the newly-leafed trees and rustling the bushes. He could feel there was a threat of rain in the freshening breeze.
“This wind will mean that we’re less likely to be heard or to hear others.” He pointed at the van. “But since there may be some others about, we’d better be careful to use lights as little as possible when we’re out in the open.”
Jackie’s hand went up to the torch, dangling on its lanyard round her neck, but she said nothing.
They walked carefully as they approached the van but as far as they could tell it was empty of people. So they started up the path. Philip was leading and occasionally switched on his torch briefly to light the rougher sections. When they got to the main site there was still no sign of life and, after picking up the rope from the office, they made their way down to the trench above the underground room.
Up at the castle the wind seemed much stronger. Philip suspected it was working itself up to a full gale. The bushes were lashing around and leaves and small branches were being torn from the trees and blown across their path. They had to make their way very carefully and use their torches more often. They stopped to listen frequently but could hear nothing except the turmoil in the treetops.
Philip went ahead for the last twenty yards or so, but he found the area around the trench was empty of life except for wind-tossed vegetation. He went back to collect Jackie. Then he tied the rope to the same tree he had used in the morning. Looking round the trench he picked up the crow-bar which was still lying where he had left it and put it in the tool-bag.
“I’ll go down first,” he said, handing her the bag. “When I give you a call you can lower the bag of tools down to me. Then you can come down. It’s quite easy and I’ll have my torch on and I’ll be able to guide you and put your feet in the right places.”
Five minutes later they were standing by the back of the damaged chest and Jackie was peering in, the torch held above her head.
“I need to find the hammer,” said Philip.“I think it must be under some of the rubble.”
“While you’re searching for that, I want to have a look at the room.” She squeezed through the narrow gap between the chests somewhat more easily than Philip that morning and disappeared from sight.
He wedged the torch into a position to light the small space and started to move the rubble aside. Sure enough, within a few minutes he had found the hammer under a couple of stones.
“Got it,” he called.
Then he opened the tool-bag and took out the small crow-bar and prepared to start work. As he did so, Jackie returned through the opening.
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed,” she agreed. “I had a look down the entrance corridor. It’s about three metres long and seems to have been cut right through the old outside wall of the castle. The width and height has been made big enough to get the large chests through. At the end of the corridor is a wide, very strong door. There is no lock in the door, but when I tried to push it open it wouldn’t move. I think there must be some sort of locking device on the outside.”
“That’s something to investigate.” He prepared to start removing the planks from the back of the chest. “Can you hold the torch for me, please?”
It took a while for his careful blows to start to loosen the first plank. Philip was taking care because he didn’t want to seriously damage the chest or its contents. He did rather more levering than hammering and it took a long time before they could see that progress was being made.
At last he managed to split the tongue off the first plank and ease it away from its neighbour. Then he broke the damaged piece of wood into two near the bottom. He pulled away the lower piece of timber and the square-cut iron nails came out with noises like creaking bedsprings. It required several heavy blows from the hammer to release it completely. Next he turned his attention to the top part of the plank. This was easier because he could get more leverage, working the crow-bar up nail by nail until he reached the top. Once he had got it free he checked his watch. They had been there nearly half an hour already.
“I want to take some more photos,” said Jackie, so he laid the plank aside and waited.
After the shots she turned back to him. “I’ve reached in and caught hold of a couple of the things in the chest. They are definitely large ornaments. I think one is a lectern and I’m pretty sure another is the statue of an angel. I can just make out one of the wings.”
“Are they gold?”
“I believe so. But that’s not important. If these ornaments are as old as I think they are, they will be absolutely priceless. Only a few museums have such ancient valuables. There would be tremendous competition to get hold of them.”
“Well, let’s carry on then.”
For another half-hour Philip continued to ease the planks off the back of the chest. At intervals Jackie stopped him to take more photographs. There were only two planks left when she stopped him again.
“Can you hear anything?”
He paused to listen. “I expect it’s the trees thrashing about above us. That wind is really getting up.”
“No. I can hear voices.”
He listened again but shook his head. Then there was a sudden, louder noise - a kind of sharp crack followed by several bangs and the creak of a door opening.
“There! What on earth is that?”
“That came from the room. I think it’s somebody opening the door you found. Switch off your torch.” He carefull
y put down the hammer and crow-bar.
Even with their lights extinguished the space hadn’t gone completely dark. There was a slight glow coming through the gap between the chests from the room beyond, which brightened even as they watched. Now there was also the increasing sound of voices.
“I’m going to take a look,” he whispered to her.
“Be careful.”
“I will be. Move over.”
He edged past her and peered round the corner into the gap. There were at least two sources of light. One was almost in his line of vision. It seemed to be coming from a large lantern which had been set down on one of the low chests in the middle of the room. He could also detect several voices. They were speaking French. One was a rather gentlemanly tone which seemed to be explaining something. Another had a rougher twang which was barking out orders. He could also hear a woman’s voice from time to time.
Philip tried to ease his way further along the narrow corridor between the chests to see if he could make out any faces. As he edged forward the men in the room broke in to one of the brass-bound chests. There came a tremendous crash and a cloud of dust came rushing down the corridor. There was a lot of spluttering and coughing.
The dust overwhelmed Philip and filled his nose and his lungs. He just managed to stifle the desperate urge to cough as he hastily withdrew from the gap and doubled up behind the damaged chest. His body was working with the desperate desire to clear his chest, despite the hand he had clamped over his mouth. Jackie was massaging his back, trying to relieve the tension. Then he had to take a breath and he could no longer resist letting out a strangled cough.
There was a sudden silence in the room, followed by the sound of several voices. Then the rough French patois shouted, “Come out.”
Even Philip understood those words. But they both crouched there and held their breath. He was once more working up to a cough.
“Come out, or I will shoot.”
Still they didn’t move although Philip knew that there was now no chance of not being found. Then suddenly there was a tremendous crash as a shot was fired down the gap between the chests. The noise of the explosion was absolutely shattering in the confined space. The bullet slammed into the rock wall behind them with an immediate second eruption which showered them with chips of rock.
“Come out,” said the voice, “or I will keep firing.”
“OK,” spluttered Philip. “All right, I’m coming.”
“Come out now.”
“I’m coming. Just a minute.” He was overtaken by a further burst of coughing.
He made signals to Jackie to keep quiet and stay where she was. Then he switched on the torch and shone it up at his face as he struggled through the narrow gap, still spluttering as he tried to clear his lungs. He emerged into the room and held his hands out from the side of his body so that nobody would think he was about to use a weapon. He found himself confronted by a short, burly man with ginger hair. A gun was pointing at him and the man said something in French which Philip couldn’t understand.
“He says to stand in front of that door and put your hands on top of your head.”
Philip recognised the man who came forward as being the fellow who had accosted them that morning by the trench. After a short struggle with his memory, he recalled the man’s name was Alain Hebert.
The ginger-haired tough said something in his guttural tones.
“I am to check you for weapons,” said Alain in a conversational voice. “I’m sure you have none, but I must show willing and make a careful check.” He patted Philip carefully all round his body and particularly in his pockets. “As I thought, you don’t carry anything worth calling a weapon.”
He turned back to ginger and said, “No.”
Meanwhile Philip had been looking round at the rest of the room. Beside Hebert and the ginger-haired thug there were four others. There was a great, ignorant-looking brute of a man, an evil little weaselly character, a man with a scar across his forehead and a woman. With a little surprise, Philip noted she was the journalist.
Hebert saw his eyes widen as he looked at her. “I believe you have already met Cesar Renoir,” he continued in his conversational tone. “This gentleman,” a slight smile played about his features as he indicated the ginger-haired man, “is Henri Montlucon, who is the leader of our merry band. The others are Mickey, Gustav and Pierre,” pointing to the Weasel, the Brute and Scarface in turn. “Tell me now, where is your partner, Jacqueline Blontard?”
Philip slowly lowered his hands. “She is back in her bed in the hotel, fast asleep. She has had a tough day, one way and another, so she decided not to accompany me this evening. She said I was nuts to come back up here. I’m afraid it looks as if the woman was right again.”
“Nuts?” Hebert seemed amused. “You must think I am nuts if you expect me to believe you. Why don’t you call to her to come out now and save us from wasting any more time?”
“I’ve told you…”
“Don’t play around, Monsieur Sinclair. You don’t want our friend Montlucon to fire another shot into that narrow corridor, do you? She could easily be killed this time.”
“All right.” Philip realised he was beaten and called out to her, “Jackie, they’ve guessed you’re there. Come out through the gap into the room. Hold your hands up and shine the torch on your body so they can see that you haven’t got any weapons.”
“Very sensible.” Hebert smiled as she emerged. “Hello, my dear. It’s a pity we have to meet like this. I’m sure you will have realised by now that it was very foolish of the two of you to come back here tonight. You are obstructing the arrangements we wish to make for removal of these items to a safe place. Now you have presented us with the problem of deciding what we are going to do with you.”
He turned and began to speak to Montlucon.
Jackie moved close to Philip. “Hebert is suggesting they empty one of the large chests and lock us up in that,” she muttered. “But Montlucon is afraid we will escape before they have finished removing the treasure.”
An argument was staring to build up between the two men.
“Hebert says they can surround us with other chests to prevent us getting out. The ginger-haired thug wants to kill us now. He says we’ll die anyway from suffocation or hunger. His actual words were that dead witnesses don’t tell tales.”
Alain Hebert was waving his arms around, trying to persuade the ginger-haired thug not to kill his two captives but the other man appeared unwilling to agree.
“Hebert says they’ll be hundreds of kilometres away before we can escape. They can ring the police anonymously from Marseilles in a couple of days and we’ll be released alive but with no information that can help the police in finding them.”
However Montlucon was shaking his head, apparently immovable.
“Ginger says they don’t have time to mess around. He wants to kill us straight away and get on with the job. He doesn’t want us in the way.” Jackie voice broke. “I don’t like the look of this, Philip.”
The ginger man pushed Hebert to one side and walked towards Philip. He raised his gun and pointed it the Englishman’s face from about three feet away. Looking down the barrel at the intent, piggy eyes of the merciless killer, Philip went cold as he realised his life was about to end.
“No!” Alain Hebert stepped in front of the gun with his hand held up. “I will not let you kill him like this. I abhor unnecessary violence.”
Without a word Montlucon moved the muzzle of the gun a fraction and fired. There was a frightful explosion and the back of Hebert’s head burst open and spattered Philip and Jackie with the revolting fragments of the blood and brains of the last of the Merovingians. Philip heard a shriek from across the room. He dropped the torch and went into a crouch as Hebert’s dead torso toppled back towards him. His arms went round the man’s waist and, using it as a battering ram, he rushed at Montlucon and knocked the murderer off his feet. The ginger man fell on to his back on one of the brass-
bound lower chests and the hand holding the gun swung outwards.
Philip was about to leap on the man and wrestle the gun away from him when a pair of muscular arms grabbed him round his upper body, trapping his own arms against his sides. He felt as though he had a broad band of steel across his chest. The great beast of a man, Gustav, lifted him off his feet and he was completely powerless. He drummed his heels against the brute’s lower legs but it had no effect.
Montlucon climbed slowly to his feet, breathing heavily. He approached Philip slowly, an evil expression on his face. He slapped him violently on both cheeks, snapping his head from side to side. He snarled in English, “I kill you. But first I hurt you.”
“No!” Jackie yelled and started forward, but the weasel ran towards her with a stiletto in his hand and she was forced back.
Philip’s attempts to wriggle free of Gustav’s grip were a waste of effort. Montlucon raised the gun slowly until it was no more than three inches from his mouth. An evil grin crossed his face and he moved the muzzle a fraction to one side. Philip realised the first bullet was going to be aimed so as to smash his right cheek and jaw, so that he wouldn’t die instantly. He knew that would cause him agony. And what would happen with the second shot?
Philip knew real fear then. He felt a weakening in the pit of his stomach and hoped he wouldn’t suffer the additional shame of voiding his bowels. Although he was still held too tightly to struggle, he waggled his head violently to try to avoid the first bullet. Ginger frowned as he tried to place the shot to cause the most pain without killing him.
“No,” moaned Jackie. “Please, no.”
Then the shot exploded across the room. Philip felt no immediate pain as he watched Montlucon. A surprised expression had come over the man’s as face he looked down at the red blotch which was spreading rapidly across his shirt-front. He leaned back and gazed at the pistol in Cesar Renoir’s hand, no more than six feet away from him.
“That is for killing my father,” she said.
Then she fired again. This time the bullet hit him straight between the eyes, jerking his head backwards. He toppled gently onto the chest where Philip had earlier knocked him, the gun falling from his nerveless hand on to the floor.
The Secret Of The Cathars (2011) Page 22