The Geneva Trap

Chapter 45

The message from Toulon was the last thing Martin Seurat needed. Frantically busy with a terrorist case involving an Algerian cell in the Paris suburbs, he simply didn’t believe what it said – that his former colleague Antoine Milraud had been sighted at an antiques fair in a small town in the hills north of Toulon. It seemed most unlikely that he would revisit his old base of operations where he was well known. But the antiques business had been the cover for his less savoury operations and, Seurat supposed, given Milraud’s arrogance, it was just possible. And there had been an earlier sighting…

Six months ago, he would have been down to Toulon like a shot. He couldn’t have explained his fixation with Milraud, except that the man’s betrayal had hit him hard personally. He had once been such a good and honest officer, as well as Seurat’s closest friend in the ranks of the French Secret Service. Martin Seurat was usually able to keep emotion out of his work; he had only scorn for most of the people he found himself pitted against, though it was a professional aversion he felt rather than a personal one. But Milraud was different. Milraud had been trusted by the people he worked with. Milraud had been ‘one of us’. And he had taken the trust of his colleagues and smashed it as if it were worthless.

Yet Martin realised that his own fixation with nailing his ex-friend was beginning to subside – otherwise he would already be looking at airline schedules for the short hop south to Toulon. What accounted for this slackening of his fervour? Was it Liz’s influence? She seemed to understand his desire to catch his nemesis, but she didn’t encourage it. He admired the way she could feel intensely about her own work, without ever letting her emotions interfere with her professional judgement. He’d like to think that he was equally dispassionate, but knew that, for a time at least, he had been almost obsessed with catching Milraud.

When his phone rang he was still trying to decide if he should perhaps go down to Toulon, just to make sure this was another false lead. He was still in two minds about it when he said hello.

‘Bonjour, Martin, it’s Isobel. Something seems to be developing with these communards down at Cahors.’

‘Has something happened?’

‘No. But Philippe rang me to say that he was supposed to hear from his source Marcel, but he hasn’t. He says it’s the first time Marcel has missed a fixed contact.’

‘Could he be away?’

‘No, he’s there all right. So’s his partner. Philippe walked the boundary of the place, and with his binoculars he saw both Marcel and Pascale outside the mas. But he can’t contact them. It’s not safe to ring or text in case someone else has access to the phone. But Philippe’s worried, and he’s not the worrying type. He thinks we should go in sooner rather than later.’

‘And you agree?’

‘I do. We know they were trying to acquire firearms and possibly explosives. They seem to have succeeded: the shipment was supposed to arrive next week, but there’s some indication from our people in Marseilles that it’s showing up sooner. I’m worried that once they’ve got the stuff they may move it somewhere, ready for the G20 in Avignon. It starts in two weeks, but the Minister is very anxious that we try to close off any threats now. Just shut things down, he says, and worry about evidence later.

‘So, I’m proposing to go in with local police tomorrow at first light. Do you want to come along? I’m also going to alert Liz Carlyle – we should find René and Antoine at the commune, but in case we don’t she needs to alert her immigration colleagues.’

‘Good idea.’ If Martin remembered correctly, René would be visiting Edward’s daughter Cathy in three days’ time. Hopefully, this meant that he would not have left for England yet.

Isobel was still talking. ‘I’m flying to Toulouse after lunch tomorrow. Seat 13A,’ she said with a laugh.

‘I’m on,’ he said. ‘I’ll see if 13B is still free.’