The Geneva Trap

Chapter 35

Cathy Treglown opened the door cautiously. She was relieved to find only René standing on her doorstep. He was wearing a blue denim jacket and rough peasant trousers. He smiled at her, sweeping a wave of brown hair off his forehead, and reflexively she smiled back.

Then she remembered her father’s warning phone call. These are not your friends, he’d insisted, and for once part of her agreed. After all, her last meeting with René had been pretty unpleasant. When he had asked her for money for the commune, she had hesitated, and he had immediately grown angry. He didn’t seem to realise that though she remained committed to the cause, she had other things – in particular her little boy – to spend her money on.

But now as he came in he exuded charm and bonhomie, handing her a bottle of Cahors red he had brought with him from France. Cathy led the way into the sitting room and René sat down on the sofa while she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Through the window she could see Teddy pretending to drive the toy truck her father had brought him on his last visit. He did spoil the boy, she thought crossly, then her mood lightened at the sight of her son enjoying himself. Her plan had been to send Teddy round to play with his friend Richard this afternoon, since she didn’t want him around when the French were visiting, but she’d forgotten to arrange it in time. So it was a relief that Antoine hadn’t accompanied René; it must mean they were no longer angry with her.

When the kettle boiled she filled the two waiting mugs and carried them into the sitting room where she gave one to René. She sat down in the armchair while he sniffed the steaming mug suspiciously. ‘It’s tea,’ she said, and he shrugged, as if he expected nothing better from the English.

They chatted for a while about the commune, with René answering her questions about the many friends she’d left behind. She missed the old farm near Cahors, and the camaraderie there’d been among the commune’s members, at least when she first went there. René seemed happy to answer her questions and give her news about the place. He told her that the vegetable garden she had started was thriving, but that they’d had to replace the bird feeder she’d put up when it had fallen apart in a recent storm.

She was beginning to think that Edward had been wrong about René. Her old French comrade was being the soul of affability, but then, he had always been a charmer. Half the girls in the commune had slept with him at one time or another; not just because he was their de facto leader, but because he had charisma – the charisma that had made him leader. He wasn’t a big man, he wasn’t handsome, and sometimes he talked too much (she remembered the dreary political lectures he’d insisted on giving), but there was an appealing intensity about him which, coupled with the charm he could turn on when he wanted to, could sway even the most sceptical.

‘You know, Cathy,’ he said, ‘you are much missed at the commune. You could come back any time.’

‘Thank you. But you see—’ she began to explain.

René waved one hand dismissively, and suddenly his relaxed mood seemed to have changed. ‘But that’s not what I’m here for. I told you last time, we’re feeling the pinch a bit. And we have plans – the G20 is meeting next month in Avignon. We aim to be there.’ He spoke as if he were planning a holiday. ‘But plans only get you so far if you don’t have the money to carry them out.’

‘What sort of plans need money?’ she asked. ‘We’ve been at G20 protests often enough in the past. They didn’t cost anything.’

‘And they had no impact whatsoever. We need to escalate our protest.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The bankers and the politicians are happy to use force to keep us down, so we’re more than justified in using violence ourselves. But taking up arms is expensive.’

‘Arms? You mean you want to buy guns?’ she asked, trying to sound comradely, though inwardly she was shocked. This was not something they had ever envisaged at the commune when she was there. Surely the others would also be appalled. Had things changed so much since she had left France? Maybe it was even worse than she feared. ‘Or is it explosives you mean? Are you planning to blow something up?’ Her voice quavered slightly, but she couldn’t help herself. This was truly frightening.

René just looked at her, unwilling to answer. Then he said, ‘Never mind the exact objectives. The point is, you can help us realise them.’ His expression was half-seductive, half-intimidating.

Cathy thought of what Edward had said. That friend of mine you met – you know, the one who came down to Brighton with me that day? As you might have suspected, she has good contacts with the police and… security people in general. I asked her to look into your friends in Cahors.

Cathy had started to protest, angry he had brought someone to her house under such false pretences. But Edward had gone on: Now hear me out, Cathy, if only for Teddy’s sake. I’m afraid Liz didn’t discover much that was good about these people. This chap Antoine in particular is nothing but a thug. Please be careful if you have to see them again.

She said carefully, ‘It’s a bit difficult for me right now. I’ve lost my job.’ A lie. ‘The benefits system is hopeless here, and I’ve got a son to raise.’

‘Ah, Teddy,’ said René with a smile that was only fleeting. ‘The petit garçon. He too is missed at the commune. Such a sweet boy.’

‘He is,’ she said, wanting to change the subject.

‘You know, it would be truly awful if anything ever happened to him.’

She couldn’t bring herself to reply.

‘Tu m’écoutes, Cathy?’ he asked, and his smile was now rigid and unfriendly.

‘I hear you,’ she replied.

‘You know, Antoine doesn’t like children. It’s quite unusual – I mean, there are many people who don’t want children, and aren’t particularly keen on them. But Antoine actively dislikes them. I would never want a child of mine to spend time alone with that man. You know his temper…’

Cathy felt fear wash through her veins like iced water; her arms ached and her legs suddenly seemed heavy and leaden. She struggled to stand up. She needed this man to leave, needed him to get out of here right away. At last, she made it to her feet.

But René remained seated on the sofa. He smiled. ‘You’re meant to ask me a question now, Cathy.’

‘What question?’ she said, trying not to stutter the words.

‘How much money we need from you.’ He stared up at her, and there was nothing friendly in his unwavering gaze. ‘The answer is ten thousand pounds.’

She started in surprise, but he said smoothly, ‘Come, come. It’s not all you have. You were very indiscreet the last time we met. It will still leave you enough to feed the boy – enough indeed to keep you off the dreaded benefits.’ He gave a dry laugh.

‘It’s very difficult.’

‘I know it is, Cathy,’ he said in a voice so soothing that it frightened her even more. ‘But it’s hard for all of us.’ He leaned forward and whispered, ‘Remember the cause. It’s bigger than us all. That’s why I know you’ll make the sacrifice.’

She nodded dumbly – anything to get the man out of her house. And she saw to her relief that he was finally getting up. She followed him out into the hall. He opened the front door, then paused in the doorway. ‘I will come in about ten days’ time, Cathy. I’ll ring to let you know precisely when. Have the money ready for me, all right?’

She nodded, wanting only for him to go. As René started to pull the front door shut, he said quietly, ‘Don’t even think of going to the police. Not if you love your little boy. You wouldn’t want Antoine to pay you a visit, now would you?’