The Killing Tide

by Jean-Luc Bannalec

  Riwal was still palpably under the influence of Dupin’s news, but was trying to pull himself together to present his report. “Just by the entry to the harbor, before turning past the rocks in the channel leading into the port, he suddenly spun the rudder round, turned the motor up to full, and shot off northward. You know how fast those Zodiacs are. But Goulch will get him whatever tricks he plays.”

  “He doesn’t have a ghost of a chance,” Kadeg said. “There are by now also two speedboats of water police involved in the operation.”

  “Good. We need four men for the grotto, I think.” Dupin was in a hurry.

  “Do we have a car?”

  “An old Land Rover Defender. We were about to take it out on a search. I was trying your phone the whole time, but—”

  “Where is the car?”

  “Just to the left behind the building when you come out.”

  Dupin set off. The pain in various parts of his body had slowly eased, although that in his wrists had gotten worse.

  Half a minute later they were standing, along with reinforcements, next to the Land Rover.

  Dupin took a seat up front. He had difficulties climbing into the car. It was one of the many peculiarities of the vehicle that despite a built-in step it was necessary to pull yourself up by a handle.

  Riwal let the engine rev up and then put his foot on the gas.

  The vehicle’s violent jolting on the unsurfaced path made Dupin’s stomach churn again, but before long they had reached the half-collapsed house and jumped out into the open air.

  Dupin headed in front, the rest of the troop behind him. The high rock walls, the short winding way along the shore, the little stony platform. The Keep Out signs.

  At the entrance to the grotto, Dupin stood still for a moment. The others nearly walked into him. Then he went in.

  Riwal, following directly behind him, turned on one of the powerful flashlights. On its own it illuminated the whole grotto. Others blazed on.

  “There, in front.”

  Dupin moved forward carefully. He had already reached the carpet of seaweed.

  “Here! You have to be careful, it’s half a meter down, it’s easy to fall over. It’s underneath…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  He had uncovered the cross. And pulled a serious amount of seaweed out of the dip. But now the dip was almost no longer visible, just a rocky edge at one point. The seaweed was spread evenly all round, creating an even surface. A gust of wind must have blown into the grotto and swept it all around, even though Dupin hadn’t felt a single breath of air.

  He felt around with his right foot until he found the edge of the dip and then—extremely carefully—stepped into it.

  “Here below the seaweed?”

  Kadeg had also stepped down. Dupin didn’t react. He moved his right foot backward and forward in the mass of seaweed. Took one step forward and repeated the exercise. Kadeg copied him.

  Riwal and the others had stayed by the edge, and were watching the commissaire and the inspector, shining their flashlights on the seaweed.

  Nothing.

  It was impossible.

  “There has to be another dip.”

  Riwal had gone a step farther into the cave.

  That had to be it. Of course. Even if Dupin would have bet this was it. In fact, he was dead certain. Nevertheless.

  The other policemen followed Riwal’s example and swarmed out.

  “Here. There’s something here.”

  Kadeg had squatted down.

  Dupin walked around.

  The inspector was holding up his hand in a comically triumphal manner, with Dupin’s broken phone in it. The commissaire had simply left it there.

  Nobody said a word.

  Dupin’s disbelief was soaring by the second.

  It was one of the four other policemen who, after a period of depressed silence—and further futile combing through the seaweed—finally gave voice to the obvious.

  “There’s nothing here. No cross. Nothing at all.”

  “That’s completely impossible. It must be here. It was just there. In this cave. In this dip in the rock.”

  “But no longer,” Kadeg said.

  “I was only away for twenty minutes,” Dupin said. “From leaving the cave to the moment we entered, no more than twenty minutes passed.”

  “It seems that was enough,” Kadeg said. “Enough for somebody to get the cross out of the cave. Or,” he added quietly, “there was no cross. If you didn’t have a light and your phone was broken, it must have been very dark here.”

  What was that supposed to mean? That he had mistaken the edge of the rock for a large golden cross? That he had been hallucinating?

  “After the journey on the boat,” Kadeg said without the slightest ill-meant nuance, which only added to the effect of his words, “completely blown away by the wind, Monsieur le Commissaire. I would describe it as seasick in the highest order. Something like that confuses everything, including sensory perceptions. And the mind. With after-effects that can last hours. Or, and this would be perfectly understandable, you hit your head somewhere on falling.”

  Dupin was too busy with the situation to go into Kadeg’s impertinences.

  “Maybe it was the other grotto, boss?” Riwal tried to keep on Dupin’s side. “Shouldn’t we search it too?”

  It was well meant, but only made things worse. He wasn’t wrong. He had, even in the wake of the admittedly serious attack of seasickness, long since got his five senses back. He hadn’t had some pipe dream.

  “It was here!”

  The only possible, logical explanation was Kadeg’s first suggestion:

  “Somebody has taken the cross. Somebody was watching me and then took it themselves.”

  That meant, however, they had to have been working at lightning speed.

  Without waiting for any of the others, Dupin headed for the exit.

  “Whoever it was can’t be far away. Riwal, Kadeg, give the order to seal off the island and search it systematically.” Dupin knew he had already given the same order today on another island. “And they should deploy more boats and check all the ships in the vicinity of the island.” He hesitated, but only slightly, before adding: “Best of all, every boat in Douarnenez Bay. Every single one needs to be searched, big or small, no matter what its purpose is. And find out where Gochat, Jumeau, Vaillant, and Carrière are right now.” It was another order he had already given. “And what Morin is doing on Molène. I want you to speak to every one of them personally.”

  He had had it. He had had the cross! Just twenty minutes ago. And then he had made a fatal mistake. He should never have left it here alone.

  Leblanc could have worked out that they had begun searching on the Île Tristan. Did he have an accomplice? Had they been getting it wrong the whole time? If so, would he have warned him immediately after the incident with Morin? So that the accomplice had been on the ball all along, and either arrived when Dupin had already left the grotto, or while he was still there, but without Dupin noticing him? In that case he would have to have waited a bit in order to get the cross off the island.

  That was how it would have been. Someone had stolen it from them.

  Dupin ran to the pier, with Riwal, Kadeg, and the four uniformed police at their own distance after him. Puffing, he came to a stop at the pier, looked around, turned on his own axis, and scanned the sea and the island.

  “We need to go up the hill. To a spot where we can see the surrounding area and the sea.”

  Dupin sprinted off again, up the steep path.

  “Up to the left.” Riwal was now hard on his heels. “I’ll show you.”

  Dupin heard Kadeg, who had stayed behind on the pier, bellowing orders into his phone.

  Dupin’s heart was pounding.

  By now Riwal had reached the same point.

  “Here, along here.” Riwal left the path. They ran cross-country between huge trees. Not long, but long enough to make Dupin’s
wrists ache again from the constant impacts.

  Then, suddenly, a breathtaking panorama opened up in front of them.

  The whole bay of Douarnenez lay before them. The fifty meters above sea level was enough for an impressive outlook. And overview. Riwal had been right. At first Dupin stood dangerously close to the abyss.

  Over the past few meters he had begun systematically to seek out the water. The sea was still wild. Huge waves were crashing against the cliffs. Dupin felt the fine spray in his face.

  There wasn’t a boat to be seen. Not a single one.

  “With a sea whipped up like that,” Riwal gasped, trying to calm his breath, “the smartest thing would be to take the left hand from the pier and straight along the coast, preferably into the Port de Plaisance in Douarnenez. There are dozens of boats there. Moor there to start with. And move the cross on by land, or wait and then head out at the same time as the other boats, when the sea has more or less calmed down.”

  Dupin got the message immediately.

  “Have the leisure boat harbors searched, every single boat.”

  “Straightaway, boss.” Riwal got out his phone.

  Dupin walked along the rocks for a bit, running his fingers through his hair. Again and again.

  “To hell with it.”

  * * *

  The commissaire and his inspector had walked from the cliff to the vehicle next to the semi-dilapidated house, and from there driven back to the institute.

  Kadeg and the four uniformed police officers had begun their search operation directly from the pier. Several other officers had joined them.

  But with no luck so far, either on the island or the water. They had four boats out on the sea, and six police combing the leisure harbors.

  Dupin had become grimly angry. Leblanc had pulled one over on them properly, and was still doing it with a vengeance, with his latest attempt to escape, above all with his chess games here on the island.

  They shouldn’t underestimate him again. Leblanc was cold-blooded, cunning. He was one of those criminal types you shouldn’t trust with anything. Dupin knew the type. He was literally burning to get his hands on him.

  He was furious at Leblanc, but it was primarily anger at himself that was driving him on. Not just because of the stupid mistake he had just made, but because he had several times let himself be led up the path.

  Dupin pushed the institute door open, Riwal right behind him.

  “We need to concentrate on this question: Who could be his accomplice?”

  Riwal’s phone rang. “It’s Goulch.”

  Dupin snatched it from his hand.

  “Have you—?”

  “A deep-sea trawler, the Gradlon, came out of Lanildut bay. Out of the harbor there, he…” Goulch stammered. Dupin had never come across the self-confident policeman like this. “There’s absolutely no visibility in the area. It just plowed right over the Zodiac. We had to watch it happen. The boat burst.”

  “What?”

  Dupin stood there as if paralyzed.

  He could hear shouts, calls, hectic orders, Goulch’s crew members.

  “It only just happened, a few seconds ago. We’re looking for Leblanc now. The Zodiac went right under the trawler’s keel, at high speed.”

  “Morin.”

  Goulch got it immediately. “Yes. The trawler belonged to his fleet. We signaled to him to turn back into harbor immediately. He’s just turning now.”

  Dupin was dumbstruck.

  “He’ll have heard the police radio.” Goulch sounded resigned. Of course. That’s what had happened. Morin was definitely perfectly equipped. “There were several boats out there.”

  It was insufferable. Too much.

  “There, there he is.” A loud shout. One of Goulch’s men. A moment passed before Goulch commented:

  “We can see Leblanc’s body, he’s … certainly no longer alive, Commissaire, we … I’ll call you right back.” Goulch hung up.

  Dupin still hadn’t moved from the spot.

  Suddenly he sprang to life. He rushed out, Riwal’s phone to his ear.

  It took a while before the call was answered.

  “Yes?” An indifferent grunt.

  “They executed him.” Dupin stressed the word hard. “They set their boat on him. That’s murder.”

  “Ah, Commissaire Georges Dupin,” Morin said calmly, at peace with himself, no trace now of exhaustion. “Obviously I fear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “One of your deep-sea trawlers ran over Leblanc and his Zodiac.”

  “You mean there’s been an unfortunate accident?”

  Morin didn’t even try to sound surprised or shocked. At the same time there was no hint of provocation. He had no intention of humiliating Dupin, or laughing at him. He was interested in something else.

  “You lay in wait for him on Trielen, and now your work’s over.”

  It was enough to drive you mad. How could they get their hands on Morin?

  “There’s no point in denying it. We know.”

  “Apparently,” Morin said calmly, “you also know who the murderer was. Which means you’ve solved the case. That must be a tremendous relief. A tremendous relief for us all. Congratulations.” It was unreal how satisfied Morin sounded. “The killer was a man of extreme brutality and pure greed. He has three people on his conscience. Two wonderful young women. If I understand correctly, he would seem more or less to have suffered the punishment he deserved.”

  “You admit it?”

  “I admit nothing.”

  Dupin stalked up and down feverishly outside the institute.

  “We’ll prove it was you, monsieur, you can count on that.”

  The reality was different. Dupin wasn’t promising himself anything; it would be extremely difficult to prove anything against him.

  “In weather like that, with such a turbulent sea, there are unfortunately tragic accidents all the time. Particularly in such a rugged landscape with all the rocks. And I imagine Leblanc was going at a dangerously high speed.”

  “Had your trawler any business in Lanildut harbor?”

  “I can’t tell you. You can imagine that I am not continuously in contact with all my captains. I suspect, however, they were looking for shelter from the storm. He probably set out for Douarnenez, heading for the channel. It’s wise to make for land there.”

  It was shameless, but that’s the way it would go. Exactly like that.

  The captain was the only one who could cause trouble for Morin, and Dupin was certain the man wouldn’t say a word. He’d be true to his patriarch.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be a major issue for the people and the press if a triple murderer fleeing from the police died as a result of an accident he himself was guilty of.”

  The worst was: Morin was right.

  That’s how it would go.

  “Apart from everything else,” Morin said slowly, a sharp tone in his voice now, “remember how complicated it would have been really to have placed the crime at his door. Obviously he would have denied everything. And you had no more than a chain of more-or-less plausible hypotheses and circumstantial evidence. None of which would have ever made the thing certain. And you know that.

  “Is that what you wanted? You would have been left to depend totally on my statement. Everything would have depended on me making a statement. And maybe even presenting some proof…” He spoke ever more softly. “Maybe, and this is obviously just hypothetical, one of my fishermen really had seen something incriminating. Or I had said how Leblanc tried to kill me.”

  He didn’t expect any reaction.

  “You’re a clever man, Monsieur Dupin. You know I had no interest in seeing Leblanc in jail. Even if my statement could have landed him there forever.”

  It kept getting worse, ever more ironic. And at the same time ever clearer. Dupin understood—and that was the awful thing—exactly what Morin meant. The last thing he would have wanted was to see Leblanc protected in jail. He
wanted to see him set free. So he could carry out his revenge. And if Leblanc had tried to disappear from the scene, Morin would have hunted him down mercilessly, until he was found.

  It was appalling.

  There was something defensive in Dupin, they couldn’t just take it, just let it happen.

  “The cross, Monsieur Morin, the cross is gone.” Maybe that was the way to get to him. “Somebody took it from the hiding place where Leblanc had kept it.”

  Morin didn’t reply.

  There was a long silence. A very expressive silence. It seemed as if Morin had also known about the cross, but not that it had now disappeared. Maybe that was the only thing he hadn’t known.

  “Leblanc had to have had an accomplice,” Dupin said. “It might have been the accomplice who killed your daughter, and not Leblanc himself.”

  Morin still didn’t react.

  “Or you might have had the cross fetched yourself,” Dupin said.

  Morin could have used force to make Leblanc reveal the hiding place during their confrontation on Trielen. Before he had been overcome himself. He would only have had to wait for the right moment and had the cross fetched. Maybe by one of his coastal fishers. Their boats were only a few hundred meters away.

  “I couldn’t care less about the cross, Monsieur le Commissaire,” Morin replied with the deepest scorn.

  The line went silent again. Dupin could hear Morin breathe.

  “Let it go, Monsieur le Commissaire.” Morin’s voice was for once almost upbeat. “If you really must, go look for the cross. Do what you have to do. Come and look around my place if you will, my doors are always open to you. And just so you know: there is no accomplice. But in any case, it’s over.”

  “Nothing is over, Monsieur Morin. Nothing.”

  Dupin hung up.

  Without noticing it, he had walked to the end of the quay, then walked on, along the stony beach. Quite a way.

  “Boss? Boss?”