Wolf Hunt (29 page)

‘Who was his lawyer?’ asked Margont.

‘Rudolph Rinz. But I crossed him out because he’s nearly sixty now. The trial was short. The prosecutor complained about the verdict. But the matter never went any further.’

‘What is the name of the judge?’

‘Vinzenz Knerkes. But it can’t be him either.’

Vinzenz Knerkes’ name was crossed out on a page covered in notes.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s impossible.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Margont pressed her.

‘I’ve often heard him spoken of, always in a positive way. He’s respected by his peers. He has the reputation of judging the guilty harshly and he’s particularly severe on anyone who harms children or young people.’

Margont recalled the smiles the assassin carved on the faces of his young victims. Because they had been locked away for days and deprived of food and water, they could not defend themselves. That gave their tormentor the impression that they accepted the cruelty he inflicted on them. And in a way, the mutilation also created the impression that the young men had consented to their treatment. Perhaps the murderer did feel guilt. A guilt so intense, so destructive that he tried to exorcise it with his tactic of weakening his victims and then faking their smiles? ‘Perhaps the judge doubly condemns people who make young people suffer because he’s punishing them for their crimes and also for his own. One culprit escapes justice but another pays double. The assassin thus tries to ease the guilt racking him.’

This remark met a lively response. Lefine shook his head, too down to earth to accept such an abstract explanation. Luise refused to entertain the thought that a judge could be culpable. As for Relmyer, he was lost in the depths of his own reflections.

‘What age is Knerkes?’ asked Margont.

Luise was distraught. She had devoted so much time to her investigation and now Margont was putting his finger on one of the blanks in her research.

‘I didn’t find out about him ... I thought he was above all suspicion ... He must be more than forty. Yes, in fact he could be the right age ...’

‘A judge would be exempt from service in the Landwehr, otherwise the judicial system would not be able to function. On the other hand, as a representative of the Austrian state, he would not be able to escape joining the Viennese Volunteer regiment when the war came to the gates of the capital.’

‘Our judges always come from good families,’ added Luise.

‘So they are all made subaltern officers, even if they do not have a military background. And a judge is a prestigious position. Kn-erkes would have had enough authority to convince other officers of the Landwehr and some Viennese Volunteers to organise the ambush we were victims of Everything tallies with what we know about the murderer! Hermann Teyhern embezzled money: he was guilty. The judge certainly knew that, but against all expectation he declared him not guilty. Why? Perhaps he was paid to let him off. Then when Teyhern started working on the army registers, Knerkes decided to make him falsify them. Teyhern could not risk refusing - he was at Knerkes’ mercy. At the moment I think Knerkes is the prime suspect. Let’s show his portrait to someone who knows him/

‘Madame Blanken met him sometimes,’ announced Luise. ‘She held him in high regard because he had the reputation of championing children and young people. Lukas, I know when you said that someone had kidnapped you and Franz, Madame Blanken told Knerkes. She thought his help might be useful ...’

Margont’s expression hardened. ‘So without meaning to, Madame Blanken may have caused Franz’s death. Because if Knerkes is the culprit, he hurried back to Franz while Lukas and the rescue team were losing their way in the forest. It’s even possible that his position helped him to sabotage the police inquiry by setting them off on a false trail. Let’s go and talk to Madame Blanken.’

Madame Blanken confirmed that the portrait was of Judge Knerkes, but she refused to believe that he was responsible. She did agree, however, to give them his address. Knerkes was a widower and lived alone quite nearby in the village of Radlau, on the other side of the Danube. 

KNERKES rode alone across the fields. He smiled to himself, overjoyed still to be alive.

When the Archduke had ordered the retreat the day before, the regiments of professional soldiers had formed powerful marching columns, protected by the cavalry. But several battalions of the Landwehr and the Volunteers had dispersed, shedding deserters in droves. Knerkes had melted into the stream of the thousands fleeing.

He had hidden in a wood, waiting patiently until nightfall to let the Austrian army move far away. He had put on the civilian clothes that he had kept for this purpose. Having the rank of captain entitled him to a horse, but as he was a Volunteer the army had not yet provided him with one, as they were unable to equip such a large number of combatants. He therefore used his own mare and so there was nothing to indicate that he was an Austrian officer. From now on he would pass himself off as a civilian who had come home to collect his belongings before leaving to escape the effects of war.

At nightfall, he had cautiously set off. He had skirted north-west round the French army, watching the immense spread of the fires by their bivouacs. The wind carried snatches of the songs of the victorious soldiers. He lost time because of his wide detour and by daybreak he had still not arrived home. He knew that the hussars and chasseurs would pursue the Austrians during the day, so from dawn onwards he had been forced to move slowly. He had more or less succeeded in keeping out of the field of action of the two armies, but even so, he was careful only to move from one hiding place to the next. He hid himself in the woods, scrutinising his surroundings, looking out for the next wood, or a deserted farm ... As soon as the coast was clear he would hurry towards his new hiding place. He had to wait a while, trapped in a thicket, as French hussars deployed in line passed in the distance. They were sweeping a meadow strewn with bodies, looking for the remains of one of their superior officers.

Finally Knerkes found himself far enough north-west of the battlefield to avoid the possibility of bumping into a platoon of cavalry, and he therefore trotted straight to Radlau.

The village was deserted. The fighting had not reached here, but Knerkes did not let down his guard. He might still come upon a deserter or thieves pillaging the evacuated houses.

He considered his position. Lukas Relmyer would never give up searching for him, and that thought appalled him. What could be worse than to have someone relentlessly tailing you? Besides, Tey-hern had told him that the army had found out that he had falsified the military registers. The naive fool had wanted to blackmail him! A few knife strokes had soon dealt with that problem. But the military investigators would never leave it there. Teyhern had sworn that he had told them nothing, but was that true? What’s more, after his blackmail attempt, Teyhern had warned him that he had given his friends letters asking them to pass them on to the Ministry of War if he had not contacted them after a few weeks.

Teyhern believed he was protecting himself. He had planned to leave Vienna and to take up his opulent way of life in Berlin. Unfortunately for him Knerkes had also decided to flee. He thought he would settle in Westphalia or Bavaria. People would assume he had been killed at Wagram.

Knerkes could have left immediately but he had wanted to return home for a last time. He was keen to retrieve some personal belongings as well as the money he had amassed in preparation for his final departure. He had not dared take his gold with him before the battle. Had his horse been killed or wounded, Knerkes would have had to abandon it with its saddlebags full of coins. By the same token, had he been captured, his horse and his fortune would have been seized. A new life would not be possible without money. But these were not the only factors bringing him back here. A young man, bound and gagged in the shed, awaited his attentions. Knerkes had managed to lure him to his house and overcome him just before the battle had started, interrupting him. Now that he was a widower he could use his own home for his crimes. The young man would be very weak by now: he would not be able to put up any resistance ...

Knerkes stopped in front of his house. He felt excitement take hold of him; his face was filmed in sweat. He dismounted, hastily tied his horse to a stake and hurried over to the shed. He opened it and found himself face to face with an adult. Knerkes drew back, bewildered, as Relmyer advanced on him. Relmyer experienced a moment of total triumph. It was much more than just the feeling of confronting the criminal in order to arrest him. He was stepping out of the shadow of the shed, but he felt as though he were coming out of the cellar of the ruined farm. The prisoner, whom he had freed two hours earlier, had fled, but Relmyer imagined that there was still a young boy there and that it was Franz. His dream was coming true. In his confused state, he felt fifteen again. But he had changed into an adult skilled in combat, into an élite soldier who was easily going to floor their kidnapper. At that moment Relmyer relived his past but this time in the winning role.

Knerkes backed towards his horse. He withdrew one of his horse pistols but Relmyer was too quick for him. The point of his sabre plunged into Knerkes’ wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. Relmyer’s attack had been executed to perfection. Knerkes pressed his wound with his good hand to stop the blood flowing. Margont and Lefine suddenly appeared. Margont came through one of the windows of the house while Lefine came from one of the neighbouring woods. They were quite far away. Fearing that if Knerkes noticed anything amiss he would guess that he had been set a trap, Margont, Lefine and Relmyer had hidden themselves at some distance from each other. They had formed a wide circle to ensure that they caught Knerkes in their net. They approached slowly, fearing that haste would frighten Knerkes into some desperate act. The two Frenchmen walked determinedly, pointing their pistols. Relmyer asked Knerkes: ‘What was the point of the mutilated smiles?’

Knerkes did not reply, seeing that his silence would unsettle his opponent.

‘Why, why, why?’ persisted Relmyer.

Knerkes had understood that he would not win a fight with Relmyer, so instinctively he attacked his weak point — his mind.

‘You can’t kill me,’ he announced, his voice brimming with confidence. ‘It’s you who are my prisoner, my little Lukas.’

Relmyer had the impression that something gave way inside him. He found himself in the same situation as before; the past was consuming the present! In spite of his age, of his lieutenant of hussars uniform and his fearsome sabre, Relmyer felt frail and defenceless, just like a weakened boy.

He stared at the drops of blood dripping between Knerkes’ fingers. He reminded himself that he knew more than fifty different attacks that could floor the man in a flash. But Knerkes wore the same masterful expression now as when he'd threatened Franz and him with his weapon.

‘You haven’t changed,’ added Knerkes. ‘Nothing has changed.’

At that, with the stupefying audacity of one who has nothing to lose, he turned his back on Relmyer and untied and mounted his horse. Relmyer was paralysed into inaction. Margont began to run. ‘He’s escaping!’ yelled Lefine.

Just as Knerkes galloped off, Lefine fired, but he missed. The detonation jerked Relmyer out of his torpor. All three of them made for their horses, hidden at some distance to prevent Knerkes’ horse from smelling their presence and starting to whinny. Neither Margont nor Lefine reproached Relmyer. He was in more disarray than ever. But with each step, he took hold of himself. The duellist in him, and the hussar, exhorted him to counterattack. He was the first into the saddle.

Knerkes had gained a head start. His silhouette moved speedily across the plains. He was heading west towards the Danube. He wanted to lead his pursuers into the marshy labyrinth of the river. Relmyer overtook Margont and Lefine. His horse, in harmony with its master, understood that Relmyer wanted above all to catch the fugitive and so it galloped with unusual zeal. Soon the long blue ribbon of the Danube appeared, hidden from time to time by the abundant woods.

Knerkes reached the first trees. Relmyer sheathed his sabre and took hold of one of his horse pistols. Although he was at full gallop, he aimed precisely at Knerkes’ horse. The shot hit the mare’s rump - it was an excellent shot, worthy of the hussar’s reputation. Knerkes forced his animal forward, but now it was having difficulty trotting, its hind legs sagging. Knerkes took hold of his second horse pistol but the wound weakened his hand and he almost dropped it. He transferred it to his left hand. Relmyer fired with his other weapon and wounded Knerkes’ horse again. This time the mare was immobilised. Knerkes just had time to dismount before it collapsed. He began to run through the trees and thickets. His plan had failed; he would not now be able to lose his opponents. He might be able to hide and pick them off one by one, but what were his chances of success? He could think of only one solution. Relmyer stopped his horse and continued his pursuit on foot through the woods, so as not to offer too easy a target. He moved forward cautiously, sabre in hand, scrutinising every possible hiding place. The dense vegetation enveloped him in an oppressive

green veil. The route was easy to follow: he could see drops of blood on the grass. Margont joined him, armed with a pistol and a sword. When the two men next saw Knerkes, he was wading into the Danube. The water was already up to his chest and the current was strong, swelled by the thawing snow. Margont aimed at him. ‘Drop your pistol!’ he commanded.

Knerkes raised his left hand and ostentatiously let his weapon drop; it sank like a stone. He did not need it any more. He smiled and continued to advance into the river. The current began to carry him off

‘He’s getting away from us!’ cried Relmyer. ‘Fire!’

Margont could not bring himself to do it.

‘He’s unarmed, it would be murder,’ he replied. ‘Let’s follow him along the riverbank.’

‘If he knows how to swim, he’ll find his feet on one of the little islands and we’ll lose him for ever! Fire! I don’t care if it’s the correct procedure, fire!’