Present Danger

39

As they walked back to the car Isabelle said, ‘She’ll be on the phone by now to Madame Milraud. What’s the next move?’

She didn’t need to ask – this was technically her turf; she dealt with the French mainland, not Seurat. Perhaps if it had been Milraud himself they were going to see, she might have asserted that position, taken the initiative. But she seemed to have guessed that Seurat had some sort of an issue with Madame Milraud and decided that if he wanted to handle the interview himself, she wouldn’t stand in his way.

So Seurat said, ‘If it’s okay with you, I’ll go on my own. But you’re right. That woman in the shop will be phoning around. To both the Milrauds probably – I’ll bet she knows where he is. Now that we’ve put the cat among the pigeons I think we need phone interception on the shop and on the Milraud house. Could you organise that while I go and talk to Annette?’

She nodded. ‘I’ll take the car back to Marseilles and start putting things in motion. You can take a taxi and we’ll meet up again in Marseilles. Here’s the address of our office there.’

He slid out of the back seat and walked across to a taxi rank opposite. He was glad she had taken it that way. From what he knew of Annette Milraud, he was quite sure that woman to woman would not have been the right approach.

The taxi turned off the Toulon-Marseilles motorway and began to coast down the winding side-road to Bandol. Bandol. What did he know about Bandol? Seurat asked himself. Some sort of resort where people used to come for golfing holidays, and didn’t anymore? Wine! That was it. Quite a well-known wine; pretty pricey too – not a wine he drank himself.

A big rocky outcrop loomed up in front, with a number of large villas set among the trees around its top. You could see the Mediterranean now – and now you couldn’t, as the road slithered round another bend and under a viaduct. They climbed steeply and eventually came to a halt at the gates of a big villa facing east towards Toulon. Seurat got out and rang the bell at the tall black security gates. A camera zoomed round to observe him as he gave his name to a disembodied voice. A pause, then the gate opened and the taxi drove in, up a steep drive bordered with carefully pruned conifers and flowering acacias. The two slowly-turning watersprays, the gardener working on a flower bed, the neatness of the scene – everything suggested that Milraud had done very well for himself since leaving the service, and that he was concerned to take care of his property and of himself as well.

No need to press the doorbell. As he got out of the car, the front door opened and a smartly uniformed maid took his card and ushered him into a large, square hall furnished with two sofas and an ebony table. Marble floor; pale grey sofas; mimosa-yellow cushions. Interior design job, reflected Seurat. No human hand had touched this. Expensive as well. Gauzy curtains hanging at the big windows moved gently in the air conditioning, but did not restrict the rolling view over the coastal plain towards Toulon.

Typical of Annette, he thought to himself as he waited. She’ll make her entrance after she’s given me time to take this in, and not before. He grinned at the thought of the shabby little suburban flat she’d last occupied in Paris. She’d be surprised he’d turned up here but delighted that he’d seen the luxury she now lived in. But softly, softly, he told himself. That was the way to deal with Annette.

The door to the hall opened. She hadn’t aged much; she still swept rather than walked. The tan was smooth, professionally correct like the room. She was dressed too young, he thought, looking at her short skirt and low-cut top. With Annette there would always be something not quite right.

As they touched cheeks, she put both her hands lightly on his, as if to suggest a physical intimacy which he was certain she didn’t feel. Then she stood back and lifted an eyebrow.

He said, ‘It’s wonderful to see you. I was hoping to see Antoine as well. Is he away?’

She nodded thoughtfully, as though mentally reviewing the possible reasons for Seurat’s arrival.

‘Yes, he’s away. He’s often away. He’s very busy. He doesn’t always tell me where he is. I don’t enquire.’

Seurat could not help admiring the adroit way in which she had taken the bull by the horns and wrong-footed him. Before he could respond, she advanced the conversational contest a further step.

‘Is there any particular reason for your asking about him?’

‘Well, yes. I need to talk to him.’

‘That’s obvious enough. I don’t expect you came here just to chat me up, Martin, pleasant though we might both find that. Or did you?’

‘Annette – look. He’s got himself into a difficult position. I don’t want it to get worse for him. It needn’t do that – if I could speak to him. You must know either where he is or where he might be. It would help him if you would tell me.’

She smiled, slowly took a cigarette from a silver box on the ebony table, lit it, blew out smoke, tapped her foot on the floor and said, ‘I dare say he’s amusing himself. There are plenty of places where he could be doing that. When he’s finished, he’ll let me know when to expect him back.’

Seurat ground his teeth. She knew perfectly well where the bastard was.

‘Well then, how long has he been gone? What’s he up to at the moment – I mean, business-wise? How long is he usually away?’

‘That’s rather a lot of questions, Martin – I’m glad we’re still on Christian name terms.’ She smiled seductively. ‘Do you always tell your wife what business you are on? Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you’re divorced now, aren’t you? Fond as I am of Antoine, I do actually appreciate his reticence, even his absences for that matter. I don’t want to know about his business, so long as it’s going well. As far as that goes, I’m perfectly satisfied.’

Checkmate, thought Seurat. We’re getting nowhere. What particularly irritated him was the way she moved her head ever so slightly from side to side without moving her eyes, a bit like a snake-charmer with his eyes on a cobra.

‘Eh bien. You have my card. Please tell him to call me. Tell him I can help him. Tell him I understand his difficulty.’

‘Do you? Well, naturally, of course I will tell him that. When the possibility occurs, of course. I’m sorry you should have come so far for so little. Perhaps next time you should telephone in advance. Can I offer you a drink? No?’

He now saw that she had been holding his card in her hand throughout the interview. She gave it a slight flourish, put it face down on the ebony table, and put the cigarette box deliberately on top of it.

‘There! All safe now,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’ll get in touch. Sooner or later.’

Seurat gave up. There was no point in deliberately antagonising her. ‘It’s a very nice place you have here. Very chic, very comfortable. Rather out of the way though, isn’t it? I always thought you were a Parisian to your fingertips.’

‘No, no. In fact I come from this part of the world. You never noticed my southern accent?’

He grinned. ‘That’s the only piece of information you’ve given me since I got here, Annette!’

For just an instant her eyes darkened, as though some shaft had gone home. Why? The remark had been innocent enough. Curious. He put it away to think about later.

‘I’ll say au revoir then. Do ask Antoine to get in touch.’

‘So lovely to see you again. I’m so sorry there’s been nothing I could tell you.’

As the front door closed behind him, Seurat swore. Why didn’t I hold that taxi? He started on his long walk back down the hill.