The Frozen Dead (71 page)

‘Good morning, Martin,' said Ziegler.

‘Good morning, Irène. Irène, let me introduce Margot, my daughter. Margot, Irène.'

Irène shook Margot's hand and turned to introduce the pretty woman by her side. Zuzka Smatanova had a firm handshake, long jet-black hair and a dazzling smile. They spoke few words before heading off, like no time had passed since they'd last seen each other. Ziegler and Martin went in front; Zuzka and Margot let them get ahead. Servaz could hear them laughing behind him. Somewhat further along, during the long climb, he and Irène began to talk. The pebbles on the path cracked beneath the thick soles of their shoes, and the murmur of water rose from the stream below. The sun was already warm on their legs and faces.

‘I went on looking,' she said suddenly, when they had just gone over a little wooden bridge.

‘Looking for what?'

‘Information about the four men.'

He gave her a cautious look. He did not want to spoil this fine day by stirring up unpleasant memories.

‘And?'

‘I found out that at age fifteen Chaperon, Perrault, Grimm and Mourrenx were sent by their parents to a holiday camp. By the sea. You know what the colony was called?'

‘Tell me.'

‘The Colonie des Sternes.'

‘So?'

‘You remember the letters on the ring?'

‘Yes.'

‘Do you think that – that maybe that is where they began…?'

‘It's possible.'

The morning light filtered through the leaves of an aspen grove rustling in the light breeze.

‘Fifteen years old. The age where you find out who you really are. Where you make your lifelong friendships. The age of sexual awakening, too,' said Servaz.

‘And the age of your first crimes,' added Ziegler, looking at him.

‘Yes, that could be it.'

‘Or it could be something else,' said Ziegler.

‘Or it could be something else.'

‘What's going on?' called Margot, coming up to them. ‘Why did you stop?'

Zuzka gave them a penetrating look.

‘Let it go,' she said. ‘Shit, let it go!'

Servaz looked all around him. It really was a magnificent day. He spared a thought for his father. He smiled.

‘Yes,
time to let it go,
' he said, and started walking again.

Author's Note

Some of the facts and information contained in this book may seem the product of an overactive imagination; this is not at all the case. The subterranean power plant two thousand metres up does exist; I simply moved it by a few dozen kilometres. Similarly, some of the psychiatric techniques described here, such as aversion treatment or penile plethysmography, are, unfortunately, practised in hospitals in Europe and other parts of the world. So is electroshock – and while it has certainly changed from the era of Lou Reed and ‘Kill Your Sons', it is still very much in the news in twenty-first-century France.

As for the music that Espérandieu listens to, you can always download it.

Acknowledgements

As far as acknowledgements are concerned, the number one suspect must be Jean-Pierre Schamber. An ideal culprit, who combines impeccable taste, a passion for crime novels and other literary forms, and a knowledge of music that I sorely lack. He is the one who, from the very first pages, made it clear to me that I couldn't stop there. Thank you, friend.

The other suspects, whatever their degree of guilt, are also partly responsible for the crime: my wife, who knows what living with a writer means, and who has made life infinitely easier; my daughter, a globetrotter for whom the very planet is far too small – I would need three lives to catch up with her; my son, who knows a lot more than I do about the latest technology and who will hopefully put it to one side long enough to read this book.

Dominique Matos Ventura is surely another lead: without his encouraging words, his talent and our friendship, this book would not exist. His songs, moreover, were the soundtrack for this book while I was writing it.

Greg Robert might not be guilty, but he is definitely suspicious: a tireless tracker of abnormalities and a patient proofreader, whose only fault is that he loves fantasy. Greg is as much a friend as he is my nephew.

Then there are the accomplices: the entire team of Éditions XO, beginning with Bernard Fixot himself, an uncompromising kingmaker; Édith Leblond, for her skill and support; Jean-Paul Campos, for saying he's my number one fan; Valérie Taillefer, for her know-how and communication skills; Florence Pariente, Gwenaëlle Le Goff and of course, last but not least, Caroline Lépée, who could transform scrap metal into gold.

Finally, thanks to Gaëlle for her photographs, Patrick for his special sense of humour, Claudine and Philippe for oiling the wheels, my sister and Jo for always being there, and all the rest of the K clan: Loïc for his Brittany, Christian for his cellar (and his tools), Didier for being an ideal friend, Dominique, Ghislaine, Patricia and Nicole for their laughter.

When all is said and done, contrary to what I once thought, writing is not such a solitary activity after all.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE FROZEN DEAD
. Copyright © 2011 by XO Éditions. Translation copyright © 2013 by Alison Anderson. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

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First published in France as
Glacé
by XO Éditions

First published in Great Britain by Mulholland Books, an imprint of Hodder & Stoughton, an Hachette UK company

First U.S. Edition: August 2014

eISBN 9781466844247

First eBook edition: July 2014