by Pirate Irwin
“This music, America’s free gift to the masses, will only be a passing moment of relief and joy for the people, where they can forget for an hour or so the drab realities of their lives, the lack of food, money and jobs. It is a Pyrrhic victory at best that de Gaulle has delivered. He will pay the bill for that eventually,” he added, a smug look flitting across his face.
Lafarge hadn’t come to debate the future of France. He wanted to spend as little time as possible with Drieu and he was worried Berenice would get fed up waiting and move on.
However, he conceded Drieu might be right. The Roman tradition of thinking by entertaining the masses you gained their fidelity would only buy the General a little bit of time before questions started to be asked by the people, who would no doubt be egged on by the Communists.
However, Lafarge wasn’t going to give Drieu the slightest bit of comfort. If he still thought that Fascism had provided the perfect solution then he had conveniently forgotten about the similar shortages during the Nazis’ rule, not to mention the torture, the random searches and the mass executions which were justified by the Germans as ‘reprisals’.
“Well at least they have their liberty now, Drieu, and they can hope for a say in the future of who governs the country. That in itself is a marked improvement in comparison to the past four years. But then you are never going to accept that,” said Lafarge coldly.
Drieu shrugged and gazed out towards the Eiffel Tower.
Beyond it they could make out the Champ de Mars, a huge green expanse where a massacre in 1791 by troops loyal to Louis XVI had presaged the toppling of the monarchy and where every year on July 14 Parisians would congregate to celebrate their national holiday and the taking of the symbol of the Bourbon monarchy – the Bastille.
Lafarge had always found it amusing the Bastille by that stage had only held just over a dozen prisoners including the quite mad Marquis de Sade, hardly the epitome of revolutionary ideals.
He smiled and thought how ironic to be staring out at the Champ de Mars where the blood spilt there hardened the resistance to the monarchy and now he was trying to prevent a revolution of sorts to restore the Bourbons.
“Amazing isn’t it, Gaston, how fortunes and history fluctuate so much,” said Drieu wistfully.
“Four years ago Hitler stood here surrounded by fawning members of his court and stared over the same expanse as we are now and he was at that point the undisputed leader of the world.
“Now he is reduced to a rump of what he conquered, Paris is lost to him forever, his reputation as a second Bismarck lies in ruins and it is only sentimental sods like me who come here and try and imagine what he must have felt that day. Such a shame really; he had it all but his megalomania has destroyed everything including us and our dreams of a pure France,” said Drieu wistfully.
Lafarge sighed, not best pleased by the usage of ‘we’ by Drieu. However, he took it as a general term for all the losers such as the intellectuals like Drieu and Brasillach who had allowed their vicious prejudices to get the better of them and openly support the criminals that had come and taken over their country.
“Okay, Drieu, I don’t wish to go back over what has been. I want to talk about the present and why you contacted me when I told you I wished to never see you again. “Unless it is to tell me you regret what you said the other night then I think our friendship is definitively at an end,” said Lafarge.
Drieu turned to him, all trace of amiability gone.
“Oh, of course, sorry. I forgot you have your lady friend to look after. She is a most attractive woman, very stylish and if I may say, Gaston, a suitable replacement for poor Isabella. Does this lady know what happened to her?” Drieu said his face creased in a knowing smile.
Lafarge stepped towards him raising his fists provoking Drieu to step back, but his face didn’t show fear instead he was smiling triumphantly and raised his arms in mock surrender. It was then Lafarge noticed as Drieu’s wrists rose above the cuffs that there were scars on one of them.
Drieu realised Lafarge had seen them and quickly lowered his arms, pulled the cuffs over his wrists and smiled sourly.
It dawned on Lafarge that Drieu’s statement about ‘sentimental sods’ had had more than an element of truth in it. He had tried to end his life as he saw the ideas he had attached himself to, and the regime that promised to deliver them, wilt in the face of a superior rival, both in numbers and in its principles of replacing violent and brutal dictatorship with free speech and democracy.
“I suffered a moment of weakness, actually two. I first tried pills and then a few days later went for the Archimedes touch. Stupid and overly dramatic of me really, I mean the Nazis might be suffering badly on the battlefield but it doesn’t mean their ideology will die with them.
“There will still be the need for their disciples and fellow-believers to carry on bearing the flame after they have disappeared and people see quite how evil Communism is,” said Drieu, his tone one of feverish excitement.
Lafarge shook his head in astonishment at Drieu’s total lack of reality. The Nazi defeat, which seemed inevitable now, would see their ideas and perverted philosophy of who was pure and impure in the human race totally discredited, and anyone wishing to continue propagating them would be called to account.
“However, that’s for another time, Gaston. I could tell from your look that you have not told her the whole truth or circumstances in which your family died. I would counsel you to do so because it would be bad to start your new life on the back of a half-truth, but then I believe you have rather more serious ghosts to hide which you would find hard to tell anyone about,” said Drieu teasingly.
Lafarge had dropped his hands to his sides, not wishing to attract attention from the other people who were strolling around and taking in the view while enjoying the strains of the Chatanooga Choo Choo, which was being played below.
He hoped at least the music was drowning out their conversation.
“Really, Drieu, you have a perverse idea of how all justice was meted out during the Occupation! We weren’t all prepared to shoot first and then ask questions. I think if you came to me and said ‘I have information about a double murder’ and then recounted what you said to me the other night I would have shown you the door pretty quickly and warned you about wasting police time,” said Lafarge.
“So unless you have something more substantial to say to me I think we really have come to the end of the road. Furthermore, Drieu, I warn you the next time I will not come alone. I have against my better judgment kept these two meetings to myself, but it won’t happen again. You must know what that will mean for you,” said Lafarge.
Drieu didn’t look in the slightest bit flustered by Lafarge’s threat.
“I take your point, Gaston, but do you really think I believe you have hidden this rendezvous from Pinault because of some false sense of friendship! Hardly, you came for the same reason that you didn’t tell even your partner, because you have something to hide and you want to know what I know about the whole affair,” he said.
“So before I go on, Gaston, I want assurances that you will not take it upon yourself in your new role as a good French Gaullist citizen to pursue me, pretending to your boss that I am part of your investigation, when in fact all you wish to do is to be effectively given a licence to silence a potentially damaging source.
“If I get the slightest whiff of you pointing people in my direction or orchestrating a manhunt then my dear fellow you will regret it. I still have friends on the police force, others like you who have passed a probably risible test of their Occupation duties, and they will furnish me with the information if they learn of any such moves by you.”
Lafarge didn’t know whether Drieu was bluffing or not, though there was a strong possibility he was telling at least a half truth about sympathetic police officers or detectives passing on information to fellow travellers like his former friend. However, he wanted to hear what Drieu had before he gave his assent, and he h
ad a feeling it would not be the only condition.
“Drieu, I am not going to agree to anything until you tell me what you believe you know,” he said.
“Very well, Gaston, you remember that former colleague of yours from before the war, Hoariau, who then went and worked as you would say as ‘muscle’ for Henri Gerland the lawyer who I left de Chastelain with in Limoges.”
Lafarge nodded remembering only too well how Hoariau had saved him from a painful end at the hands of Bonny and Lafont.
“Well sadly he was caught in a trap by Bonny and Lafont’s gang as their bosses were furious at his part in freeing you and also that you had subsequently killed their business partner, von Dirlinger. So they gave him a taste of their own very special hospitality reserved for their least welcome guests.
“Even though he was the right-hand man for their lawyer he was given no favours. Indeed he probably suffered more than the rest of their victims.
“He died because of you, Gaston, another victim to add to your long list which of course is topped by your own family. Oh please, don’t look so surprised. Of course he died; quite apart from having saved you, Bonny and Lafont wanted as few witnesses as possible to be around when judgment day comes.
“Anyway he did talk before he died, Gaston. I won’t bore you with the details as you know pretty much all of it. He did have other information such as you delivering poor de Chastelain to the charming Dr Petiot and how you had ordered him to stand his men down that night you fixed the meeting with von Dirlinger and Mathilde.
“I asked myself the question why would you enter a potential trap all alone if you hadn’t already factored into the equation that you would be the only one coming out of there alive. The answer plainly is you didn’t wish to have potential witnesses around.
“Of course the theory about you and your quick temper is a possible alternative but weighing up the facts, circumstantial as they are, leads me to the conclusion that you planned the whole thing to end as it did.
“You may wonder how I came to learn this as I was never a friend of Lafont or Bonny, understandably, given their lack of intellectual rigour. They were simply along for the ride to earn as much money as they could on the coat-tails of us more devoted adherents to the Nazi cause.
“However, I chanced upon one of their more intelligent goons and he was only too willing to divulge details about the torture of Hoariau and his revelations as he knew you and I were friends. So you see, Gaston, I have rather more details than you probably wished I had,” said Drieu, the smug smile returning to his face.
Lafarge assessed as quickly as he could what concrete evidence Drieu had – and there was none. All of it was circumstantial but, nevertheless, put together cleverly the innuendo and the facts might become blurred to Pinault. Then he would have no alternative but to at the very least put Lafarge on gardening leave – he always wondered why they used that term as a lot of people barely possessed a window box – while he opened an enquiry into the allegations.
Lafarge felt a bit rattled not least because Hoariau had had him followed the night he took de Chastelain to Petiot’s residence. While he didn’t know that the ‘good doctor’ was murdering his desperate clients rather than sending them on their way to a new life any hint of a connection to him could be fatal.
Pinault’s fury would know no bounds if he were to learn one of his senior detectives had escorted one of the victims to the murderer’s lair, the very man all and sundry were looking for at this moment, most notably the Commissaire himself.
The irony of it all was de Chastelain’s death was the only one he hadn’t intended to happen. However, he doubted that that would find much sympathy with Pinault. “Yes sir, I killed three other people but de Chastelain was an honest mistake, a terrible misjudgment.” No, he didn’t see that passing Pinault’s glass theory.
He didn’t blame Hoariau for following him, he was more than likely ensuring both their security and also he fulfilled his part of the deal he had struck with de Chastelain and Gerland down in Limoges. Indeed Lafarge felt genuine sorrow hearing Hoariau had died, and having experienced torture at the gang’s hands he could imagine the agony he had endured at the hands of Bonny and Lafont.
However, he didn’t have time to dwell on it because he had to decide quickly what he was going to do about Drieu’s demands. He decided to try and bluff it out.
“I don’t really see what you would achieve Drieu by passing on this tittle-tattle. I don’t think it would save you from the guillotine and it would only cast unfair aspersions on me, and twisted the right way could also condemn me,” said Lafarge.
Drieu stroked his beard and thought for a moment.
“There you are wrong, Gaston, for in these febrile days everyone is open to a deal. I would be helping them in their most high-profile investigation by supplying them with information on one of Petiot’s accomplices – you, Gaston – and in return I would do them a favour by saying they could get me a one-way passage to say… hmmm … what about Argentina. It is a regime that agrees with my views and is a most pleasant country by all accounts but you would know that of course … oh sorry, how tactless of me, you would have got to know about it had not fate intervened,” said Drieu waspishly.
Lafarge clenched his fists but knew it was neither the time nor the place to react to Drieu’s goading. He realised he had for the moment nothing to barter with. Drieu, deluded or not, believed he could worm his way out of trouble and he was not to be dissuaded otherwise.
“Very well, Drieu, you have my word that I will not pursue you or tell anyone that you are still in Paris. I would add you should look to leave because resources will be deployed to arrest or shoot on sight those who like yourself were the most prominent anti-semites and collaborators,” said Lafarge trying vainly to get the upper hand.
“Ah but, Gaston, you will of course, as part of the deal, also warn me if you should hear of any such operation being mounted,” said Drieu.
Lafarge grimaced but nodded his assent.
“In that case, Drieu, you better provide me with your details,” said Lafarge.
Drieu laughed and it wasn’t a pleasant one.
“Seriously, Gaston, you expect me to hand over my details to you! That was quite a clever little try but no I won’t. I will give you a contact’s number and he will pass on your message to me and I will then get in touch,” said Drieu.
Lafarge hadn’t deliberately tried to coax his number out of him but he was secretly pleased Drieu was sufficiently neurotic to think that. It suggested life on the run was getting to him and he wasn’t sure of whom to trust.
“Okay, Drieu, just scribble down the name and number and then I can get back to the more enjoyable part of my day,” said Lafarge.
However, he was swiftly disabused of this possibility
“Gaston, there you are. I’ve been looking for you for the past 10 minutes,” said Berenice from behind him.
Lafarge groaned and hoped Berenice had not met Drieu during her affair with the Wehrmacht officer for that would make life even more complicated.
Both he and Drieu turned to her. Lafarge was once again swept away by her beauty and her elegance, standing there in a red floral, knee-length dress with a light navy blue coat draped over her arm so as to guard against the cooler September evenings, and topped by a flat-topped red hat with a light veil hanging down over her eyes.
“Oh, Berenice, do excuse me. This is an old friend of mine—”
“Jean de Charenteville, Madame,” interjected Drieu saving Lafarge from scrabbling around for a name for him.
Berenice stared at Drieu. Lafarge feared she recognised him even with the beard, and stuck out her hand. Drieu bent down and brushed it with his lips, making sure he observed the custom of not making full contact with his mouth.
“I was really lucky to chance upon Gaston here. I haven’t been back for very long and didn’t know whether he was alive or not,” said Drieu warming to his role.
Lafarge preferred
to remain silent for fear he might make an error as Drieu, being on the run, evidently had more experience at improvising with different identities.
“Ah, so you spent the Occupation abroad, M de Charentville,” asked Berenice.
Drieu put on his sad look and Lafarge had to concede he had to admire him for his sang froid.
“Indeed I did, Madame. I was mostly in London. The English can be most welcoming hosts when it serves their interests,” he said, shooting a malevolent smile at Lafarge.
“Ah, so perhaps you met my husband Antoine de Cambedessus?” she asked.
“Sadly not, Madame, for I hear he is one of the sharpest and most intelligent of the circle that surround the General,” said Drieu.
Berenice smiled politely at the compliment paid to her husband while Lafarge silently seethed at Drieu’s remark which he was sure was aimed to wound him.
“Well he will be pleased to hear that – he loves compliments,” said Berenice, though her tone was verging on sarcastic.
“I guess it depends who they come from,” said Lafarge who was itching to get away and end this charade.
Drieu did not look happy with the remark and Berenice too eyed Lafarge oddly.
“Anyway, Berenice we better be going the film starts in half an hour and we have to get there early because I hear it gets sold out very quickly,” said Lafarge brusquely.
Berenice nodded and bade farewell to Drieu while Lafarge shook hands with him, Drieu passing on his contact’s details into his outstretched hand.
“What film are you going to see?” he asked as they stood by the kerb waiting for a taxi to come along.
“Vautrin with Michel Simon,” said Berenice.
Drieu’s eyes sparkled mischievously.
“Ah yes, from Balzac’s novel, how wonderfully appropriate – a murderer who becomes a top detective. Are you trying to tell Madame de Cambedessus something, Gaston?” said Drieu chortling.