Children of War (37 page)

He opened the door and Pamela was standing there, reliable Pamela, with his clean uniform in hand, and he could smell coffee. He’d give a fortune for a cup of coffee. He turned down the Mayor’s offer of a cognac. He didn’t want to confront Deutz smelling of booze.

‘Have you told the Mayor about Deutz and Fabiola?’ he asked Pamela. She nodded and handed him a cup of coffee and a phone. ‘You have to call Annette,’ she said firmly.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t discuss this with the
Proc
’s office until I’ve talked to the Brigadier. If the decision has been taken to bring formal charges, that’s fine, but the Brigadier needs to
know that we’re about to put a bomb under his tribunal. You call Annette and tell her that and now I have to get to the château. Right after another cup of coffee.’

Back in the Mayor’s car Bruno noticed that somebody had cleared away the fouled newspapers and then he spotted J-J’s car parked discreetly down the street, pulling out to follow them.

Pamela turned from the front passenger seat, looked at him brightly and said, ‘I’ve found a horse, a Selle Français, just like yours, only a mare. Only six years old, amazingly cheap, from a stables near Agen that’s just gone bankrupt. I’m driving down tomorrow to see it, if you’d like to come.’

‘I’d love to, if the Brigadier lets me go,’ he said.

‘I think you deserve a rest after what you’ve been through today,’ the Mayor said. ‘And if the terrorist threat is over, so is the Brigadier’s authority over you. You’re working for me again.’

Somebody must have warned the guardhouse at the château because they were waved straight through, but not before passing the media gauntlet of camera lenses and shouted questions. The Brigadier was waiting on the outer steps and came down to shake his hand. ‘Well done and I’m very glad to see you in one piece,’ he said. ‘A pity you didn’t leave any of the bastards alive for us to interrogate.’

‘That wasn’t our main priority at the time,’ Bruno replied.

‘Quite. I’m not criticizing. I think Rafiq can rest easy now. What’s the latest from the hospital? The Americans are flying a hospital jet into Bergerac to take her back to their big military hospital at Ramstein in Germany and they want to know when Nancy can be helicoptered across.’

‘Dr Stern is still working to keep her alive. We’ll know as soon as she has anything to tell us.’

‘Right, this press conference, the minister is very keen …’ Bruno held up a hand.

‘Wait, sir,’ he said. ‘You need to know that the
Procureur
has just signed off on charges of multiple rape against Deutz and I’m supposed to be in attendance for the formal arrest to take place here as soon as possible. I’ve informed the
Proc
’s office that I had to brief you first because of the tribunal. Now it’s between you and him, sir.’

‘Don’t “Sir” me, Bruno, I know your old soldier’s tricks. Did you know this was coming?’

‘No, sir, not precisely. I knew that inquiries were under way but I just heard of this while on the way here.’

‘
Putain de merde
, is this for real? Is he guilty?’

‘I believe so. One of the women is Dr Stern, currently trying to save Nancy’s life and I trust her implicitly. But as you’ll understand, for a policeman like me it was a question of waiting for evidence.’

‘Well, at least we’ve got a verdict from the tribunal. They’re unanimous. Sami is not responsible for his actions and not fit to stand trial. They recommend he remain under medical supervision, but that’s where they divide. Deutz wants him in a prison hospital, under his supervision. Weill and Chadoub think he should be an out-patient and that his parents should remain as his
tuteurs
.’

‘That’s not practical,’ Bruno said. ‘We stopped the three from Toulouse but eventually there’ll be more killers coming. They can’t afford to let Sami stay alive after all the publicity about his cooperating with us.’

The Brigadier nodded and looked at his watch.

‘If I may make a suggestion,’ Bruno said. The Brigadier looked at him quizzically.

‘You could announce that Deutz has been suddenly taken ill and has been placed on medical leave, but that his work with the tribunal was complete and is much appreciated. Get that out tonight and let the announcement of the arrest come out tomorrow. But cut him loose while you can. He’s facing five years, minimum, maybe twice that if all the other cases stand up.’

‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘Yes, sir, short of leaving the bastard alone in a locked room with a loaded revolver.’

‘We’re not in the nineteenth century now, Bruno.’ The Brigadier tried to sound crisp but his heart wasn’t in it. ‘
Merde
, I suppose there’s no choice. I’d better call the minister and tell him why Deutz will be suddenly taken ill.’

‘May I tell Sami’s family that the threat from Toulouse is over? I think they have a right to know.’

‘Go ahead, but don’t tell them about the Tribunal decision. I still have to draft the report. And not a word about Deutz to anybody.’

The sergeant of the guard trotted up, came to attention and announced, ‘The
Procureur de la République
is demanding access, sir.’ He handed the Brigadier the
Procureur
’s laminated and outsized identity card, crossed with red and blue stripes.

‘Sergeant, you’ll have to gain me five minutes,’ the Brigadier snapped. ‘Go back and give the
Procureur
my compliments, say I’m tied up on a call to my minister and apologize profusely but under the security precautions in force tell him you have
to double-check his identity. Then get on the phone and call his office, but whatever you do, get me those five minutes.’

He speed-dialled a number while Bruno saluted and headed briskly up the stairs, leaving Pamela and the Mayor looking baffled at the foot of the steps. The salute was for their benefit; they’d assume he was under orders. As soon as he rounded the first bend in the stairs, he slowed his pace, feeling the aches in his muscles.

As he came out onto the wide balcony, he was surprised to see that the sun had not yet sunk. It had been getting lower in the sky as he drove the Rolls-Royce to Trémolat only – what, he checked his watch – barely ninety minutes ago. Where had the time gone? Two minutes of battle, ten minutes before getting Nancy into the chopper, five minutes to St Denis, the greeting at the medical centre, his shower and change and the drive here.

‘Bruno, Bruno,’ came a familiar sing-song voice and Sami was coming towards him, Balzac squirming in his arms in the effort to reach his master. Sami looked behind Bruno and said inquisitively, ‘Fabiola? Nancy?’

‘Not today, Sami,’ he said, embracing the youth, surprised by the strength he could feel in the skinny frame. The jogging and the food had done Sami good. His arm around Sami’s shoulders, he walked across to shake hands with Momu and touch cheeks with Dillah and said, ‘Good news. The threat from the Toulouse mosque is over. The three men who were hunting you are in custody.’

Technically, it was true, but he didn’t want to add in front of Sami that they were dead.

‘Does that mean we can go home? Dr Weill told us the
tribunal had completed its work.’ Dillah gestured to the other end of the balcony where Dr Weill and Dr Chadoub were enjoying the last rays of the sun. They raised hands and smiled in greeting.

‘I hope you’ll be home very soon. That’s good news about the tribunal. Did Dr Weill say what they had decided?’

‘No, but he gave us a wink and a very big grin,’ said Momu.

‘And Dr Chadoub said she couldn’t think of anything better for Sami than being with us,’ added Dillah.

‘That sounds promising. I truly hope it all works out. Excuse me a moment while I greet the doctors.’ Bruno walked across to the two of them. ‘Thank you most sincerely for your work here,’ he said, shaking their hands.

‘What was that about the threat being over?’ asked Dr Chadoub. ‘You mean the family can go home now?’

‘That’s not my decision, but you probably heard that we took these security precautions at the château for a reason. The immediate threat has now been removed.’

‘The soldiers coming from the guardroom were clustered around a military radio and talking about what sounded like a battle,’ Dr Chadoub went on. ‘Was that what you meant?’

Bruno nodded.

‘If you think that’s the end of it you don’t know these Salafi monsters,’ she said. ‘They’ll send more killers.’

‘That’s a concern, certainly. Have you seen Dr Deutz?’

‘After we heard about the battle, he went down to talk to the soldiers, pumping them for more details. Do you know what happened?’

He evaded the question. ‘Are you staying here tonight?’

‘I believe so. We’re expected to sign the final report which
is being drafted as we speak. We’re unanimous, you’ll be glad to hear, but there’s still a question about Sami’s future treatment.’

The door behind Dr Chadoub opened and Deutz appeared wearing a suit and tie. He must have been expecting the press conference. He bustled onto the balcony, words spilling out from him. ‘You won’t believe what’s been happening, three terrorists shot dead just down the road. That pretty American Nancy was involved and was wounded and the local policeman Bruno was in the thick …’

‘He’s right here,’ said Dr Weill, and then turned to the sound of commotion coming up the stairs from the other door at the far end of the balcony.

Deutz gaped at Bruno, and then came forward and grabbed his hand and began to pump it and murmur congratulations until Bruno wrenched his hand away. He didn’t want to be touched by this man, so he turned to watch a confused knot of people tumbling through the door from the stairs.

The
Procureur
was shouting ‘Outrageous’ as a soldier hung half-heartedly onto his sleeve. The Brigadier was spluttering about national security while Annette, beside him, spotted Bruno and gave a cheerful wave. Yveline, still in uniform, brought up the rear. The Brigadier shook his head in despair and sat down at the nearest table. The soldier wisely ducked back to the door.

‘Dr Deutz,’ called the
Procureur
, striding across to confront him before glancing at Bruno. ‘I’m glad to see you here, Chief of Police Courrèges. I’m sure you know your duty.’ He darted a withering glance at the Brigadier.

Curious at these new arrivals, Sami crept up and stood
beside Bruno, Balzac still in his arms. Momu and Dillah had turned in their chairs to watch this sudden drama.

‘Yes, I’m Deutz, what can I do for you?’ He stood casually by the battlements, silhouetted against the setting sun, posed so that he was one of the few who did not have the sun in their eyes.

‘Pascal Deutz, you are accused of multiple crimes of rape under Article 222.23 of the Penal Code,’ the
Procureur
said, brandishing a warrant. ‘You will be taken into
garde à vue
overnight in Sarlat and interrogated in custody there by the assigned
juge d’instruction
Bernard Ardouin, who will be your investigating magistrate.’

Deutz did not move from his place but glanced quickly at Annette and Yveline and then at Bruno and the Brigadier. He raised his eyebrows and then gave an elaborate shrug and put his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked to be the most relaxed man on the balcony.

‘You are charged with the violent rape and actual bodily harm on or about February the fourth, two thousand and seven, of Doctor Fabiola Stern,’ the
Procureur
began.

Sami tugged at Bruno’s sleeve, looking confused and asked, ‘Fabiola?’

‘… and with the violent rape of Iphigène Vaugaudry on or about the tenth of May, two thousand and six,’ the
Procureur
went on. ‘And with the attempted rape of Monique Jouard on the second of March, two thousand and seven; each of these young women being
in statu pupilari
of you as an accredited member of the medical faculty of the university of Marseille and all the said offences having been committed in that city.’

‘Fabiola?’ Sami repeated. ‘He did bad thing to Fabiola?’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Deutz declared calmly. ‘I demand to consult a lawyer.’

‘Yes, he did a very bad thing to Fabiola,’ Bruno said distractedly to Sami, trying to pay attention to the drama before him.

The
Procureur
was stiff with anger and Deutz was looking at him with his usual arrogance mixed with contempt. He was leaning against the battlements, hands still in his pockets, the picture of a man who might be the victim of some foolish misunderstanding but wasn’t in the least worried by it.

‘What did he do to Fabiola? He hurt her?’

‘Yes, he hurt her,’ Bruno whispered, trying to shush Sami.

Suddenly he felt Sami thrust Balzac into his arms and before he could react, Sami had taken off like a sprinter, head down and arms pumping as he closed the ten or so metres between him and Deutz and launched himself at him. There was a sound like an axe striking flesh as Sami’s head collided with Deutz’s chin. Deutz reeled back, off balance and unable to save himself with his hands tangled in his pockets. The back of his hips caught on the lower level of the wide battlements and he began to topple backwards.

Bruno began running forward to hold them but he lost a vital half-second in putting Balzac down. Sami had the power of rage and his bare feet gripped the stone floor and powered on, his hands tight around Deutz’s neck and his height and momentum pressing Deutz further back and further back. Deutz’s legs slid out from under him and he was going over the edge.

Bruno launched a flailing dive, more a rugby tackle to try
and grab Sami’s legs. But he was too late. His hand just brushed Sami’s heel as the young man went over the battlements still clutching at Deutz. Bruno landed hard, slid forward, and his head cracked against the stone wall, protected a little by his képi. He groped a hand up, still groggy, and felt cloth and then a leg, sliding through his grip. And then he felt an ankle and gripped it hard and rolled to get his other hand onto the foot.

He heard a high scream and then a thud and then a scrambling of bodies and other men were beside him, one of them in uniform, helping hold the weight that seemed to be hauling his arms from their sockets.