Death at the Clos du Lac

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Later that afternoon, Commandant Levignier was at his desk, scanning a report on a group of disaffected council members in a group of islands in the Pacific known colloquially as a ‘Dom Tom’ — départements et territoires d’outre-mer. It was one of France’s overseas territories over which ISD had a watching brief, and he’d blocked all calls while he dealt with it. Some of the Dom Toms, as distant as they were, needed swift intervention by gendarmes from time to time, to avoid trouble escalating.

When his internal phone rang, he snatched it up ready to reprimand his secretary.

It was Delombre.

‘The Pole’s been trying to get hold of you. Says it’s extremely urgent.’

‘I know. I’ve been out of touch because I’m busy. What does he want now?’ Levignier was getting tired of the way Girovsky seemed to think ISD were at his beck and call. Unfortunately, ‘the Pole’, as Delombre liked to refer to him, possessed a lot of influence in both the Interior and Foreign Ministries, and right now, when French commercial interests were looking up and expanding, that was unlikely to change anytime soon.

‘He’s asking about our guest’s other half, and still pissing himself over that cop, Rocco. One of his spies says he’s been asking about the little pervert, Devrye-Martin, and a cop he thinks might be working at Rocco’s instigation has been checking records for the names Ardois or Rotenbourg. He thinks he got the address in the fourteenth arrondissement.’

Levignier dropped the papers he was reading. Mention of both names brought a nasty stab of alarm. The fact that Girovsky had the ability and resources — without doubt somebody inside the Establishment — to keep tabs on matters that were not his to worry about was concern enough. But Rocco’s interference this deep and his ability to come up with information leading to Rotenbourg was far worse. ‘What sort of questions? And how the hell did he find out about the names?’

‘We told him, didn’t we?’

‘Not Girovsky, you fool — Rocco.’ But Delombre was right: it had been a mistake telling Girovsky about the Clos du Lac and its secrets. Not his fault, though, he reflected. Some middle-ranking secretary with a loose lip in the Ministry had blabbed about the precise function of the facility, thinking it would impress the Pole into keeping his mouth shut about the man they called Ardois. In doing so, he had also let slip the fact of Devrye-Martin’s existence and background. It had clearly been enough to make Girovsky dig deeper for his own ends.

‘Rocco’s just a typical nosy cop,’ Delombre continued. ‘He’s been asking questions. It was inevitable that someone would talk. For my money it’s that nurse, Dion. She looks the sort to have opened up to him in a big way.’ He sniggered at the double meaning, and Levignier winced with distaste. There were some people he would have wished not to work with, but Delombre was too good at his job to get rid of. For now, anyway.

‘The nurse won’t have talked,’ he replied. ‘And Rocco’s no ordinary nosy cop. You shouldn’t underestimate him. What does he know?’

‘He found the name and where the family lives. Apparently he contacted a cop in their home town, and asked if he had a photo. I checked with records, and they said all photos of Devrye-Martin had been suppressed from police files. But the cop asked the local newspaper if they had one. Nobody thought of that.’

‘Why the hell would he want a photo?’ Then he knew why. On the night of the murder, Rocco had been in the pool house with Devrye-Martin. The man had wandered there by mistake, apparently. Drucker had assured him that Devrye-Martin was so drugged up to the eyeballs he wouldn’t have known his own name, let alone anybody else’s. And if Rocco had learnt anything from him, he’d have been all over them before now, demanding details. No, however he had discovered Stefan’s real name he clearly didn’t know enough about him to make a real fuss.

But a photo was different — especially to an observant police officer. It meant he’d be able to identify the patient. And that meant a dead man come back to life, now living inside a government facility.

‘Has he found one?’

‘One of the editor’s assistants did. She didn’t know anything about the case and thought she was helping the police. She couriered it direct to Rocco.’

‘Damn. How did Girovsky get to hear about it?’ The Pole’s private spy network was in danger of making the men at the Quai d’Orsay look like amateurs. Not for the first time he wondered at the blurring of lines between state and private security, and where it would end.

‘The editor contacted the family and they rang their lawyer. He went to the Ministry. I think Girovsky’s got an insider.’

Levignier made a mental note to investigate that. Not that it would surprise him. But whatever his importance to France’s industrial and commercial future, the Pole was seriously pushing his luck if he started interfering with matters of state. ‘Very well. Leave it with me.’

‘I could always,’ Delombre reminded him, ‘arrange for a slight accident. Even businessmen have been known to trip over paving stones.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Levignier replied automatically, his mind racing ahead with an idea. ‘Tell him … tell him we’ll let Rocco have his man.’

‘Won’t the family object?’

‘For the greater glory and honour of France and our future, and with his sordid little history? I’m sure they won’t mind making a small sacrifice.’ Levignier nearly chuckled at the irony of a man like Devrye-Martin being useful to anybody. ‘I might remind them how much money they’ll save in the long run.’

‘Couldn’t he expose the others?’

‘How so? He’s a pathetic nobody with nothing on his brain but his perversions. He knows nothing about the others. They were all drugged and docile, remember? Besides, I don’t mean we’ll actually let Rocco have him, as such. That would be asking for trouble. We’ll simply allow the inspector that illusion, then take it away from him before he gets too close.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Let Rocco have the photo. It will keep him diverted. Not that he’ll find anything. But I’m more concerned about his interest in Rotenbourg. I have an idea which should stop Rocco in his tracks.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, if we can’t get him warned off officially, how do you think an accusation of sexual assault will go down on his record? Maybe that will take his mind off his job.’

‘Clever. You using anyone I know?’

‘No.’ Levignier had deliberately not brought Delombre in on this, or his little army of dubious undesirables who would do practically anything for money. Besides, he already had in mind a person who had the qualities and background that were ideal for bringing off what he’d planned, and he didn’t want Delombre getting involved. In addition, the girl he was thinking of was a little special, and he wanted to see how susceptible she was to taking some extra-curricular orders.

‘What do you want me to do in the meantime?’

‘Nothing. The plans go ahead. You stand by in case of emergencies.’

‘I usually do. Does that include our woman guest?’

‘Not yet. Everything there is under control. She’s being kept quiet, but her husband hasn’t cancelled his talks yet.’

‘Cold-hearted bastard.’ Delombre sounded almost impressed.

‘He won’t be for much longer. If we have to we’ll use the Sicilian trick.’

‘Can your men handle that?’

‘They’ll have to. If not, you may have to go in and help them.’

‘Sure. Let me know when and where.’

Levignier thought about that. He’d deliberately kept Delombre out of the kidnap plan because the man didn’t do subtlety; he much preferred violent action leading to final solutions. While that method had its place, it was too soon yet. But if things weren’t resolved, he might have to get Delombre to finish it all for good. And that meant everybody. Kidnappers and victim.

‘Do we know where Devrye-Martin is?’ Another urgent problem, but this one was definitely Delombre’s number to deal with.

‘No. Nobody’s seen him since he walked out of the halfway house he was taken to after leaving the Clos du Lac.’

‘Careless. How did it happen?’

‘Everyone thought he was heavily sedated, like the rest. Apparently not. We know he’s not in Evreux, but he’s got a couple of friends who share his passions. They might help support him if he stops getting money from his family. We’re keeping an eye on them.’

Levignier thought about it for a few moments. From rumours on file about Stefan’s earlier activities, it seemed certain that he had been peddling his photographs to fellow ‘enthusiasts’ in France and all the way up to Holland before he was discovered. Now he was out from under his family’s care, and likely to find it difficult to obtain any more of their money, it was likely that he would try to get back into his old trade. Either way, if Rocco got to Devrye-Martin first, it could all get very messy. Bad enough that a former dead man accused of taking pictures of naked children had come back to life, courtesy of the state; even worse if that same man had discovered anything of consequence about his former housemates and their reasons for being at the Clos du Lac. A man like that was highly likely to trade information of that nature to keep himself out of trouble. ‘As soon as you locate him, go see him.’ He allowed himself a cold smile. ‘Make it an aftercare visit.’

‘Meaning?’

‘You know what I mean. Soothe his pain. Make it permanent.’