Hands of the Traitor (22 page)

"Urquet knows nothing about the
Berlitzan Project. This is family business."

Jason gripped the steering wheel
tightly. "I'm in deep because of you. I've rented this car in my
name. I didn't know you were planning to do anything like
this."

"What the hell did you
think
I was going to
do?"

"I thought you were going to start
throwing money around, not embark on a massacre. I've not bothered
to cover my tracks completely. We'll be picked up for
sure."

His father wiped his hands in the
handkerchief. "As far the police are concerned we're on holiday in
the U.S. of A. Just like everyone thought your father and I were in
forty-four when he got killed. The cops let that one go, Jason.
They won't be asking questions at French car rentals."

He tried to laugh at his father's
naivety, but he felt too angry for laughter. "And who's next," he
demanded. "That blonde you met out here? The one I have to track
down? Oh my God, it is isn't it?"

"Just find her for me." His father
gripped his arm.

"You're obscene." He pulled himself
free. "All you can think about is killing people who know about
your sordid past. What does it matter to you? You'll be dead
yourself soon."

His father ignored the taunts. "Have
you found Sophie yet?"

He'd say no more. He'd tracked Matt
Rider's car to a small house not far from the hotel, a house with
an old woman standing by the door. He was planning to check who
lived there, but there had been other things to occupy his time.
After lunch he'd bought a metal detector in Calais and taken it to
the beach to try it out. Finding the remaining cylinders of
Berlitzan oil at the missile site was more important than finding
an old crone.

He started the engine of the Citroen
and turned to his father. "If you'd left the past alone, none of
this would have happened. The old soldier would have had his brief
moment of glory in the papers and everyone would have forgotten
about it. You've really stirred up a rats' nest."

Then he noticed his father's right
hand. "Just look at that ring," he added. "That's the old soldier's
ring, isn't it? You're macabre, you are. That damn ring won't do
you any good. You're like Midas in reverse." He hit the Citroen
into gear. "All the gold you touch turns brown."

He swung the car round and glanced in
his mirror as the Citroen bounced onto the track used by the
construction traffic. The Mini was still in the supermarket park.
Matt Rider needed a lesson in minding his own business.

The car jerked violently as it hit the
bumps but Jason was oblivious to the surface of the track. "Hold
the speed down, boy," his father shouted. "I can't hang on with my
bad arm."

"If you can't take it, you shouldn't
have come."

They drove past the rear of the
Mini.

"You want to know where the English PI
is?" said Jason. "That's his car. He's sitting in it with a young
woman, and they've been watching us since we arrived. I wonder if
he knows you murdered his grandfather last night."

"Hell, Jason, what do we
do?"

"How about I shoot him?"

It was meant to be a joke, but his
father wiped his hands anxiously. "Jason, my son, I sure as hell
would like that PI out of my hair."

*

"They've seen us, so there's no point
in going after them." Matt put the camera on the floor behind his
seat. Five clear photographs on maximum zoom. "The old man's got a
scar on his chin, like the man at the hospital."

"He is the man who killed your
grandfather?"

"He's like the man Sister Ewing
described. Except for his moustache."

"It was ... very little.
Short."

"That's the only thing that's wrong.
Sister Ewing said the man in the clerical collar -- Fergus Hawkins
-- had a big drooping moustache. The age is right
though."

"He used a disguise?"

"Wouldn't you, if you went to kill
someone?"

"I hope I would never kill anyone. And
why would I want a moustache?" Zoé put her hand to her mouth. "I
told you, they have come to kill you."

"I doubt it. I think they came here to
look at the site, not me."

"You are right. They have come to
recover their poison."

"It's only a theory."

"Go to the
gendarmes
."

"They'll need hard evidence.
Anyway, the man at the garage told me the captain of the
local
gendarmes
is useless."

"So what are you planning to do?
Arrest the 'Einmans yourself?"

The white Citroen was now out of
sight. Matt shook his head. "They'll be back. I'm coming here
tonight to keep watch."

The drizzle should be easing soon. He
started the engine. A trickle of water fell onto his lap from the
roof lining as the wiper blades squeaked their way across the
screen. The sky over the Channel looked brighter already. Perhaps
it would be a fine evening.

"What's up, Zoé?"

Zoé suddenly broke her silence.
"Your grandfather has been murdered, and all you want to do
is
watch?
" She hit him hard on the shoulder.

"What do you suggest?"

"What do
I
suggest?
You
are the detective, not me."

He rubbed his shoulder. "I came to
France to question Sophie. I didn't know anyone was going to murder
my grandfather."

"You have taken some pictures of
Monsieur 'Einman. We will go to England with the film and give to
your friends at the Trinity Green police station."

"In the meantime those two will be
back here digging up their gold. They'd be home in the States
before the police started to do anything. We need to stay right
here."

"You must make a plan."

"That's what Ken keeps telling me.
Planning, planning, planning. I don't need a plan; I need
evidence."

"We will get the film processed in
Calais and show the pictures to Sophie Boissant. If she can
identify Frank 'Einman, you have all the evidence you
need."

"Frank Heinman's an old man."
Sophie had been pleasant to talk to, but most old people seemed to
have some form of senility, advanced or otherwise. "She probably
wouldn't even recognize Frank Heinman from a photo taken during
the
war
."

"Always you see the problems. Sophie
remembers your grandfather. She called him her Tommy," Zoé reminded
him.

He felt depressed, but he didn't want
to knock down every idea Zoé had. "It's worth a try."

She clutched his arm. "I think Sophie
is in danger. Perhaps the 'Einmans read her name in the paper.
Maybe they have gone to kill her."

He suddenly felt himself come awake.
It was as though he'd been in a dream since learning of his
grandfather's murder. "Of course Sophie is in danger. I've been too
wrapped up in my family problems to see it."

"We will go to her now,
mon
cher
."

"Too right we will." He nodded to
himself. We? With a bit of luck Zoé wasn't planning to catch a
train south, back to the arms of her beloved Florian.

*

SOPHIE SEEMED surprised to see them again
so soon.

"The Americans have had many years to
find me. No, they will not come here." She made the idea sound
absurd.

"They're already in France," said
Matt. "We've just seen them. It's possible the older one killed my
grandfather last night."

Sophie remained silent, her red eyes
almost closed. Then she looked up slowly. "What you say is a
terrible thing, monsieur. Is there anything I can do to
help?"

"Can you remember the name of the
Americans?"

"Yes, it was Heinman." She emphasized
the H in a way no other French person did. "The young one was
called Frank. I remember him clearly. Such a frightened rabbit of a
boy."

Matt felt excited. "Would you
be willing to come with us now to the
gendarmes?
"

Sophie looked troubled. "It is a hard
thing you ask, Matt. No, I cannot do it. It was a dreadful time for
me."

"It's important," he
insisted.

"Perhaps another day," said
Sophie.

"Tomorrow?" asked Matt.

"Yes, tomorrow."

Zoé nodded. "Is there anywhere you can
go tonight where you will be safe?"

"I could go to my sister Martha for a
few days."

"Where does she live?" Zoé took
careful hold of Sophie's thin arm.

"It is not far," said Sophie, "but she
is old."

Everyone's old, thought Matt. "We will
take you in our car." They'd probably manage to get Sophie into the
front seat.

"
Maintenant.
" Zoé sounded adamant.

Sophie shook her head, not quite in
bewilderment, but certainly she was seeing difficulties. "But
Martha does not know I am coming," she protested.

Matt realized he had to do something
quickly to avoid upsetting Sophie. "We'll take you to see her,
madame, and then we'll bring you back here to pack your things.
Please, it's very important that you do not stay in your house
alone."

*

MARTHA GREETED the three of them warmly
and said of course Sophie must stay with her for as long as
necessary. But when they took Sophie back to her own house to pack
she insisted she would take a taxi to her sister's -- when she was
ready. By the time Matt and Zoé got to the Heinmans' hotel it was
nearly dark, but the white Citroen was still in the car park. If
the two men were indoors, at least they'd be out of Sophie's
way.

"Sophie, she is stubborn, Matt.
I would be very surprised if she moved out of her house tonight. I
think you must tell the
gendarmes
about the 'Einmans, and they can protect
her."

Matt switched on the wipers and
squirted the washers to clear the dead flies off the screen,
without much success. "And what would the
gendarmes
do? They'd go to the Heinmans' hotel
and ask a few questions, then go away. I don't want the Heinmans
tipped off before Sophie sees the
gendarmes
in the morning. They could make a runner
for the States. Anyway, we can't be sure Sophie won't change her
mind. If she refuses to tell her story we'd look
stupid."

"So you are doing nothing?"

"I'm further ahead than you
think." He pointed to the dashboard clock. "It's after nine, so
there won't be anyone senior at the
gendarmerie
. In the morning I'm going to give them
the film, and make sure they contact the British police at Trinity
Green. That way, the police both side of the Channel will know
what's going on. Maybe they'll work together."

For the first time in this
investigation he could see a way forward. He put his hand
protectively on his shoulder in case Zoé hit him again in her
frustration. "Let's wait here and watch. We can win this
one."

He wished he felt as positive as he
tried to sound.

*

AT NINE-THIRTY, Jason Heinman slipped out
of the hotel with a metal detector. Even under the street lights it
was possible to recognize it by the shape. Matt guessed it would be
easy for Jason Heinman to buy a detector in Calais. The tall
American with the pony tail threw it into the back of the Citroen
and drove off alone.

"
Viens
, Matt, we will follow." Zoé sounded
excited.

Matt put his hand on her arm. "Not
yet. There's only one place he's going. We're about to get the
evidence we need, and I don't want to blow it. I might be able to
get a few more photographs if the floods are on."

There was no point in following the
Citroen in their distinctive Mini. They needed to watch without
being seen. The nerve of the man surprised Matt. Surely the
security guards stayed on duty round the clock at the construction
site. Perhaps not; perhaps they thought no one would be stupid
enough to be poking around after dark when the supermarket
closed.

"What we need is a French car on local
plates. Something like one of your friend's old bangers." It was
half a joke, half a serious suggestion.

"Philippe." Zoé smiled.
"Philippe is very keen to give me his personal attention. But it is
his brother who sells the old cars, not the Garage de Saint Somer."
She pointed to the open map on her lap, illuminated with a
flashlight kept in the door pocket for night-time emergencies. "I
think I can find a way to the construction site down a little track
that goes through the woods. It will be
un raccourci
, a short cut. Maybe we will get
there first."

"As long as we don't catch anything
underneath," said Matt anxiously. "I'm not too sure about the
exhaust. Okay, call out the way."