Hands of the Traitor (20 page)

But then what? The local
gendarmes
were hardly going
to be interested in a crime committed back in the war. Calling a
press conference had seemed like a good idea but it was a
non-starter. Sophie might have a good story to tell, but she was
frail and would probably break down under a confrontation with a
roomful of journalists. It could even finish her. He noticed fresh
tears forming in Sophie's eyes and he began to cry
himself.

Sophie Boissant got to her feet
slowly and painfully. "You must excuse me, Matthieu," she said. "It
is
l'arthrite
, the arthritis. It is the same with my sister Martha, but
she is older than I am. Martha moved out of Calais during the war,
when our parents were killed by the Eng ... By the
bombing."

Matt went to the small window to wipe
his eyes and was relieved to see an empty road. The white Citroen
was probably still stuck in Calais.

"My family have always said they tried
to contact you. They couldn't have tried very hard."

"Ah, Matthieu, when the war ended I moved
to Lille to get married. We had just the one son. My husband,
Henri, was a fine man. He helped me forget the terrible thing I did
in the war, but he was killed in a mining accident in nineteen
seventy-three."

"I am sorry, Madame."

"So young," Sophie said, almost to
herself. Then she brightened up. "My son married soon after, and he
and his wife gave me a good home in Lille. It was only five years
ago that I moved back here."

"I do not like to leave you after such
a shock," said Zoé. "Is there anything we can do to
help?"

"That is very thoughtful of you," said the
old woman. "We have a new priest in the village. Father Alban. He
is only young, but he has been able to offer me comfort. Me, I did
not think such a young man would be suitable to be our priest, but
I was wrong. I asked Father Alban to call to see me after I
received your letter. All those memories. We had a long talk about
so many things. All my life I was filled with shame and guilt, not
just for what happened with your grandfather, Matthieu. I know now
that I have forgiveness from Jesus Christ. I have not earned it. It
is a gift, and I am no longer afraid of dying."

Zoé bent down and kissed
Sophie. "Please do not upset yourself
about the death of Monsieur Rider,
Madame."

Sophie gasped and put her handkerchief to
her mouth. "I need time to take it all in," she said with a forced
smile. "I would like to be on my own." She came with them to the
door. Once she was walking she seemed to become more
agile.

Matt bent forward and gave Sophie a kiss
as they stood in the doorway. "Madame, I do not know what to say.
My grandfather would have loved to see you again." He reached into
his pocket and removed the crucifix his grandfather had brought
back from France. "I think this is yours. Please take
it."

Sophie clutched it and kissed the figure
of Christ on the cross.

"
Merci
," was all she could say.

Zoé caught hold of Matt's arm. "There is
the white Citroen outside the gate."

He heard a car driving away as he
turned. "Are you sure?"

"The driver was watching us. I think
he had a little beard."

Matt ran to the gate but the
street was empty. He
shrugged. He wasn't the only one with a wild
imagination.

Zoé was getting paranoid
now.

*

THE MAN at the Garage de Saint Somer
stubbed his cigarette on the top of the counter, leaving a brown
scorch amongst a hundred similar marks.

"Ah yes, monsieur, the big American
with the pony tail." He opened a folder of rental forms. "I have
his name here. It was on his driving license and his passport. We
have to check these things you know."

"Hiring a car is a cheap way of getting
one to keep."

The Frenchman laughed. "You are right,
monsieur. I have lost two cars that way already, and I have only
been in business six years."

"And the man's name?"

"I have it here, monsieur. See? It is
the name of 'Einman."

Matt looked at the form. The full name was
Jason Becker Heinman. According to Ingrid Rosestein of NATA, Jason
B. Heinman was the new president of DCI. He regretted not going to
see Louise sooner. The visit had been almost painless, and she
might have been able to get him a whole folder on DCI -- and done
it in confidence.

"How long has he booked the car for,
monsieur?"

"Two days." The garage proprietor
shrugged. "Perhaps he will have it for longer. He told me he is not
sure. Monsieur 'Einman's French is very bad, but I believe he said
his father is joining him here today."

Matt experienced a mixed sensation of
excitement and alarm. Miller from DCI he could cope with, but
finding the DCI president over here was scary. And all the time he
was unable to keep his eyes off Zoé who had wandered into the
workshop to talk to a young mechanic. The man had his hair spiked
up in an amazing advertisement for the versatility of gel. He felt
a stupid, childish jealousy as he watched them laughing
together.

"Thank you, monsieur." He guessed it
wouldn't do to push his luck any further. So far the proprietor
hadn't asked why he was asking these questions. Time to change the
subject. "Do you know where the madman attacked the crowd with his
knife?"

"The Dutchman. The crazy,
damned Dutchman with the big blade. It was
incroyable
, monsieur.
Incroyable
."

"You were there?"

The garage proprietor lit another
cigarette and inhaled deeply before replying. "Not me, monsieur,
but my cousin was in the fight. He is not a mild man, but he is not
a killer, monsieur."

"I do not understand."

"Captain Lacoste and his
brainless
gendarmes
are holding my cousin on a charge of murder." The man blew
out a cloud of blue smoke. "I tell you, monsieur, it was that
damned Dutchman."

"We didn't hear much about it in
England," said Matt, willing the garage man into telling the story
from a local perspective. In the workshop Zoé was still laughing.
Didn't the mechanic have any work to do?

"Show me your map."

Matt unfolded the map he'd bought
yesterday.

"There, monsieur." The man
picked up his ballpoint. Without asking he drew a ring around an
area of green on the map. "Some people are saying that the crowd
joined in and started to kill each other. I ask you, monsieur, is
that possible?
Non, c'est impossible!
"

Matt nodded. "I am sure you are
right, monsieur," he agreed, his mind more on Zoé than the
proprietor. "The
gendarmes
are over-efficient."

The Frenchman spat out through his
office door into the yard, a fluid mixture of phlegm and tobacco.
"There, that is what I think of Lacoste and his men. My cousin is
innocent!"

"Of course," agreed Matt. "I am
thinking of going to the site. Just to see it."

Zoé seemed to be exchanging names and
addresses.

"If you go to the place I have
marked, you will discover the site near the new supermarket. There
is a high wire ... Ah,
regardez
. Monsieur 'Einman is coming. I recognize my white
Citroen."

"No, no," Matt said quickly. He'd left
the orange Mini at the side of the building where it was unlikely
to be noticed. "It is most important you do not let Monsieur
Heinman know I am here."

"You are with the police?" The
Frenchman had begun to fill in some paperwork. He paused with
his
stylo
in mid air.

"No, I am here on holiday, but I am
keeping..." For a moment he was stuck for a word. "An eye on him
for a friend."

"He is in trouble, monsieur?" There
was uneasiness in the garage proprietor's voice.

"Big trouble, but it has nothing to do
with cars. Your Citroen is safe with the American. May I go out
through the workshop?"

"Of course, monsieur. The
beautiful mademoiselle has seen you coming.
Bonne
chance!
"

While the driver was parking the
Citroen outside the office, Matt collected the "beautiful
mademoiselle" and let the inner door to the workshop slam shut
behind them. "You seemed to be getting on well in there," he said
coldly. Perhaps for the first time he realized just how badly he
wanted Zoé.

"You noticed?" Zoé giggled. "That was
Philippe. He has made me a very good offer."

"It certainly looked like that," agreed
Matt sulkily. The mechanic looked like a man who imagined he'd be
able to have any woman he chose -- and probably could.

"I might take him up on it." Zoé
seemed to be in a teasing mood, one he'd not seen before, but there
was a fragile note to her humor. She got into the Mini and pulled
the door shut.

It made a cheap, metallic sound. "He
thinks this old wreck might let us down. His brother sells
second-hand cars and he asked if I am interested in having a road
test."

Matt refrained from adding anything
obvious. Maybe he could use this as an opening to discover more
about Florian. "I thought you had an understanding with someone in
Clermont Ferrand."

Zoé nodded, the smile gone. "Florian's
father is a good friend of my father."

"And Florian is your
fiancé?"

"He sells cars. Mercedes cars. It is,
I think, a good job."

Matt said he thought it
was.

"I went to England," Zoé added. "To
think things over."

He reached out.

"No, please do not touch me,"
she reacted suddenly. "You do not control me. I will do what
I
want." She turned
away and stared out of the car window. "I feel so confused. I think
I am ...
infidèle
, unfaithful. I should not be here with you."

Matt felt angry. "I hope you're not
two-timing anyone. It's not fair on Florian -- whoever he is -- and
it's not fair on me."

"You do not understand."

It was the sort of response a woman
would resort to. "We're not sharing a room or anything," he told
her, trying to make their friendship seem far more simple than he
wanted it to be. The altercation came as a surprise. These were the
first heated words they'd exchanged.

"I have my case at the hotel. I want
you to take me back there now."

"And then?"

"Then I will catch the train home to
the Auvergne."

The demand came as even more of a
shock. "No. Please." Zoé's problems were her own business, but he
wasn't going to let her go easily.

"Give me one good reason why I should
stay," she demanded.

"Because France is a very big
country."

"So?"

"So you might get lost on the way
home."

Zoé looked at him, angrily at first,
then she began to laugh when she noticed he was smiling.

Chapter
16

JASON HEINMAN
had disappeared.
Matt and Zoé decided to have a leisurely snack at a pavement table
outside a bar on the road towards Calais, their orange Mini
concealed in the car park round the back.

"It is your letter to New York that
has caused all this trouble," Zoé told him. "I said you were not
careful enough. Jason 'Einman has killed your grandfather and now
he has come here to kill you."

Matt shook his head.
"There's
nothing
to link Jason Heinman with my grandfather's death. The man
claiming to be Fergus Hawkins was old."

"What about the father of Jason
'Einman? He must be old. What is his name?"

"Frank Heinman. The man at the garage
said..." Matt put his glass of wine heavily on the table and red
wine spilled over the side. "You're right, he's joining Jason here
today."

"Where is he coming from?
England?"

"I don't know. We need to find him,
then we can see if he answers Sister Ewing's description. Where is
he likely to be?"

"The German launch site?" asked Zoé
who had been studying the map. "There is a circle marked on
here."

"The man in the garage did it for me.
Are you sure you want to go on with this?"

"I am still..."

"Tangled?"

"You must understand it is not a time
that is easy for me."

It wasn't exactly an easy time
for him, with his grandfather lying dead in an English
hospital
--
the grandfather he'd come over here specially to help. He started
the engine and wondered if Philippe at the garage was an old
boyfriend from the Auvergne, a foolish thought that probably showed
how infatuated he was becoming with Zoé. "I'd like to go past the
garage once more."