Blowback

Chapter Thirty

The drizzle settled on them like a fine mist. A penetrating wet. The road, the forest, the drop to the pool at the foot of the falls, all seemed strangely unnatural in the sulphurous light of the morning after.

The tree had been moved off the road. Only a little debris remained as witness to it ever having been there. The revving of a powerful diesel engine filled the still air as the tractor on the bend winched Enzo’s vehicle painfully up the scree. A breakdown truck with a flashing orange light was standing by to take it down to a garage in Thiers. Several other vehicles were parked at the roadside, including Dominique’s blue van.

Her waterproof jacket shone wet in the dull morning light, her dark eyes troubled and searching his face with concern as they walked down toward the tractor, retracing Enzo’s steps of the night before. He moved stiffly, although more freely now than when he had first woken. “You’re not still thinking of going to Paris after this?” she said.

“Of course. What else am I going to do? Sit around here waiting for someone to try to kill me again?”

“You don’t know that someone was trying to kill you, Enzo.”

But he just dug his hands in his pockets and kept his thoughts to himself. “Well, anyway, I’ve not been wasting my morning while they cleared the road. I made a few phone calls. Arranged a few rendezvous.”

“Jean Ransou?”

“Among others. I’m having lunch with Ransou tomorrow at the racetrack at Vincennes.”

Dominique’s eyes opened wide. “He agreed to meet you, just like that?”

“I didn’t think he was going to be very cooperative at first. But the mention of the name Marc Fraysse changed everything.”

She frowned. “Be careful, Enzo.”

He nodded solemnly. “I will.”

By the time they reached the bend in the road, Enzo’s car was back on the tarmac, and the roar of the tractor had subsided. Enzo walked around his 2CV inspecting it with critical eyes. In fact, the damage was not as bad as he had feared. The paintwork was scratched, and the rear wheel arches and the lid of the trunk were dented in places. A mechanic in blue overalls was hooking it up to winch it on to his truck.

“What do you think?” Enzo nodded toward his battered car.

The mechanic shrugged indifferently. “I don’t think there’s much mechanical damage. The engine stalled, probably within a few minutes, and the lights drained the battery.”

Dominique peered inside the car. “What about the handbrake?”

“When I first climbed down to take a look at it, the handbrake was in the off position. The idiot who was driving it must have got out without putting it on.”

Enzo bristled. “I’m the idiot who was driving it, and I can assure you, I put the handbrake on before I got out of the car.”

“If you say so, pal.” He climbed into his cab to start up the winch.

Dominique glanced thoughtfully at Enzo. “You couldn’t have.”

Enzo restrained the urge to raise his voice. “Look at the incline of the road up there where the tree was,” he said. “If I’d got out of the car without putting on the handbrake it would have started rolling backwards immediately. As it was, I was out of the car and over the other side of the tree before it began to move.”

“So how come the handbrake was in the off position?”

His indignation was beginning to get the better of him. “Well, obviously someone was hiding in the woods, watching for my arrival, waiting to ambush me. I left the driver’s door open. He must have slipped in and released the handbrake while I was climbing over the tree. And then he tried to shoot me.”

“But why, Enzo? Who would want to kill you?”

“Whoever killed Marc Fraysse. Which only tells me that we must be getting pretty damned close to finding out who that is.”