The Hunter Page 11

  Charles, sat on a hard chair, he felt cornered and frightened. His eyes darted from one person to the other.

  ~ ~ ~

  The burley Gendarme, closed the door to the small sitting room and turned his angry red face towards the young woman beside him. He was finding it difficult to understand how this young person could maintain her confidence before his best intimidating performance.

  ‘Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Madam.’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, monsieur le Gendarme. I could say a great many things. But not today. Not yet.’ I grinned at his confusion as I spoke to him in his own language. ‘Father is not with us monsieur, so we can dispense with our English practice...I think.’

  I turned to Charles and motioned for him to stay where he was, I pulled up a chair and sat beside him. Bertrand looked and must have felt awkward as he was left standing.

  ‘Charles, what have you said to our friend?’ I gestured towards Bertrand.

  ‘Like you said ma’am. Nothing, except that I was waiting for you and shouldn’t move. I only hid in the toilet because he kept looking at me.’ Charles nodded towards the gendarme.

  ‘Ah...I see.’ I smiled reassuringly. ‘Well there’s nothing for you to worry about. Quite the opposite in fact.’

  ‘I don’t know about that....’ started the officer as he pulled around a chair to face us.

  ‘Well first of all, I think you should see this.’ I reached into my bag and brought out the handwritten sheets that Marie had left for me.

  I took the letter from the top and gave him the witnessed statement to read. We were quiet while he digested the contents. Unlike the letter, the statement was written in french so he had no translation troubles. But it still took him a little while to reorder the theory that he’d formed in his own mind. He folded the papers and was about to put them in his pocket.

  ‘I don’t think so monsieur,’ I said and reached across to snatch the papers back. ‘They were addressed to me, you may have a copy. But the original documents will be retained for the defence lawyer...should he be needed.’

  ‘As you wish. Now what is this nonsense all about.’ he asked, turning off his anger tap and putting on his best friendly face.

  But his eyes still showed the arrogant impatience of his real self.

  ‘Charles has something important to tell you about things that occurred on Sunday morning.’ I glanced at him, raised an enquiring eyebrow. He nodded.

  ‘Yes ma’am. All of it. I’d like to tell all.....get it off my chest.’ he looked straight at me, avoiding Bertrand’ s gaze.

  ‘Ok then Charles, I think that’s the best plan too. Let’s start by telling monsieur le gendarme, who you are and where you come from.’ I took a small voice recorder from my bag, switched it on and put it on the arm of my chair.

  Charles nodded, took a deep breath and began his sorry tale, of orphanages, foster homes and hostels before he went on to describe the events of Sunday morning. Tactfully he left out the bit about me clobbering him, but gave full details of the beating he’d got from the gang of youths that he’d been part of. He’d started to tell of his involvement with Jacques and the criminal exploits of his gang of thugs when we were interrupted.

  There was a knock at the door and it was pushed open by a tall thin policeman, his uniform was pristine with carefully pressed creases and a dazzlingly white shirt. He opened his mouth to speak, but that was as far as he got.

  ‘Not now.’ said Bertrand and waved him away.

  But the policeman wasn’t to be put off so easily, ‘But I think you.....’

  ‘I said not now. Get out. Go!’ the gendarme stood and pushed the door closed in the young man’s face. ‘Continue....please.’ he said in a kindly tone to Charles.

  And Charles did. He gave details of some pretty nasty stuff, including a fraudulent, protection scam amongst the low-life nightclubs of Renne’s red-light district, smuggling and drug trafficking.

  In all, I suppose he had talked for almost a half-hour and given Bertrand enough information to guarantee his next promotion, or at the very least, a public commendation. I switched off my recorder.

  ‘I suppose I can’t borrow that and get it transcribed.’ asked Bertrand hopefully.

  ‘Ordinarily, my answer would be no. But I will agree, providing you leave Charles under my charge and you give me a full copy of the transcript when it’s done. Do we have a deal?’

  ‘Normally I’d say “No-way!” I’d want this young man in a lock-up where I could get to him whenever I wanted. But, if you can guarantee that he’ll be available and ready to testify, then well....ok.’

  I looked at Charles, his face showed his relief in a grin and he nodded.

  ‘That’s settled then. He’ll be ready when you need his help.’ I said rephrasing Bertrand’s condition and reaching across to shake Bertrand’s soft, chubby hand.

  There was a timid tapping at the door.

  ‘Come!’ bellowed a bullish Bertrand.

  The door swung open a few inches and the young policeman peered around the edge.

  ‘Well what do you want?....Come, speak up man. I haven’t got all day.’ the irritable temper-tap was open again.

  ‘Ah...I tried to tell you. Monsieur Blake has gone.’

  I stood and stepped in front of Bertrand, ‘What do you mean...Gone?’

  ‘Just that ma’am. I saw him go down in the lift. Chased after him using the stairs but he was nowhere to be seen. We suspect an accomplice. Sir’

  Bertrand was speechless with surprise and his anger tap was on full, ‘Fool...I’m surrounded by idiots. Get out of my way.’ rudely he shoved the policeman aside and barged through the door

  I made to follow him, but he turned, wagging his finger in my face, ‘You stay here. You’ll get in the way.’

  He didn’t hear my reply, which was inventively phrased from gutter french. But it did raise an eyebrow and grin from Charles.

  ‘Didn’t know ladies knew words like that ma’am.’ he grinned.

  I grabbed his arm and we rushed after the gendarme, who, galloping out of Dad’s room, was headed for the lift. We got there first and pressed the call-button.

  ‘I told you to stay here. Keep out of it.’ he growled.

  ‘And you sir, didn’t have the grace to listen to my reply.’ I said haughtily.

  We rode down to the ground floor in silence. I could smell Bertrand’s excited perspiration – he needed a shower. With him in a temper like this, there was no way I was going to leave him. Whatever he did, I was going to follow. I wanted to be the chief witness.

  ~ ~ ~

  The dark blue van took off like a frustrated bull in a field of heifers and I followed in my Peugeot, keeping tucked in behind. We were soon joined by a sleek looking patrol car that swung onto the road and took the lead, siren blaring.

  Hope Dad has got a good lead, I thought. He’ll need all the time he can get, but I can’t imagine how he’d do it. Maybe a taxi, I thought, surely there’s no other way? In which case, he’d not be very far in front of us. Bertrand-the-gendarme will not be amused when we catch up with him. What on earth was Dad thinking of...maybe the bash on the head has disturbed something. But what I really don’t understand is, why there were no arrangements for a guard on the door to his room. Smacks of incompetence I think.

  With some relief I realised that the escorting patrol car was taking the main road routes, ignoring the many short-cuts that were available. I looked across at Charles, he was gripping the edge of his seat and obviously enjoying the chase.

  There probably weren’t many traffic violations that we hadn’t committed as we sped past the usual traffic and tore down the lane that wandered its way past Dad’s house.

  As we went by Marie’s lovely home I saw that all the shutters had been closed and there was a new-looking white Mercedes coupé on the driveway. I wished I had time to stop. But I couldn’t. I needed to keep up with this circus. I was amazed the police didn’t pull in though. Perhaps they did
n’t know who lived there, but that’s ridiculous I thought, they’re local coppers for goodness sake. Must have all their attention completely focussed on the one chase.

  ~ ~ ~

  The two police vehicles drove onto the driveway at our house and, to make sure nobody left without us, I parked across the gateway.

  The sky was dark and I felt that a storm threatened. I followed the men into the porch, where we were stopped by the locked door. Bertrand was preparing himself to launch his weight at it. When I shouted to him to stop.

  ‘I have a key.’ I said. ‘Stand back and I’ll open it for you. And, as you don’t have a warrant, I’ll invite you in...If you promise to behave.’

  As I stood back to let them all come out of the narrow porch, I caught the fleeting sight of a quick movement next to the hedgerow in the adjacent field.

  I saw that Charles had seen it too and stamped on his toe as I pushed past and hissed at him. He closed his mouth, gave a small nod and put his hands in his pockets.

  We went in and immediately I could smell coffee. I strode into the kitchen ahead of everyone and made a show of turning the filter machine on.

  ‘Don’t know about you lot, but I could use a coffee.’

  Charles busied himself rinsing a cup that was half-full, still steaming and had been left on the table.

  Bertrand bustled about, giving orders to the few men he’d brought with him. Then he came into the kitchen, very obviously waiting to be given a cup of what he assumed was fresh coffee. As I looked at him, my thoughts returned to the hospital and there being no guard stationed on Dad’s door, or Marie’s either, if it came to that. I should have resisted it, but my mouth led my brain.

  ‘I think you must be pretty embarrassed all-in-all, monsieur.’ I gave him my serious business-like frown.

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean.’ he snapped.

  ‘Oh...I think you know what I mean. Two days and you’ve lost your two, star witnesses to a messy set of killings.’

  ‘I’ve not lost anything. They absconded, ran away. Which I think points firmly to a guilty verdict.’

  ‘Seems to me, that nobody ran anywhere. They just walked out. I could agree perhaps, that it might not have been the best choice of action on their part. But if there had been some simple precautions....It wouldn’t have happened.

  ‘Oh. Madam is now an expert in police business eh?’ he laughed.

  ‘No, no. You misunderstand. I was using simple commonsense. If there had been a guard on the doors to the rooms, or even on the corridor. This wouldn’t have happened. Don’t you agree monsieur?

  ‘And what exactly do you think I was doing there?’ he asked with a snort of contempt.

  I’m sure I saw a faint flush of embarrassment on his cheeks, or was it anger as he turned away to hurry after his sergeant.

  ‘I rest my case sir.’ I said to the empty doorway then turned to a grinning Charles. ‘I thought that such bungling only came in boy’s comic books and novels.’

  Chapter 18

  William had settled into a practiced stride, faster than walking but slower than jogging. Yomping they’d called it in the marines. And back then he’d have been carrying a lot more on his back plus a rifle, ammunition and whatever explosives and detonators he’d be likely to need.

  Today he had a simple backpack and a bow and arrow, much less than half the weight that he’d have carried in action. But he’d been younger and fitter then, and hadn’t had a head-injury that was producing a numbing, consuming headache.

  ~ ~ ~

  I’m gonna have to stop soon, I thought. This wretched headache is almost blinding and my sight’s not that good yet. Left eye’s ok, but the other’s a bit hazy still. I know there’s a first aid bag in the pack with some super strong pain killers. I just need to get to the edge of the forest before I take a break, plenty of cover there. Storm looks as if it’s getting closer, it’ll break soon. Guess I’ve been lucky to get this far.

  It seemed to take forever, but I eventually walked up the slight rise to enter the fringe of the forest trees. I stopped swallowed a couple of the aspirin pills with a mouthful of water and looked back across the fields. There was no sign of anybody following and I’m pretty sure that the cars had left the driveway, just Rachel’s there now. Dare I switch on the mobile, it’d pinpoint my position, if they’re watching that is. I owe it to her really, just a quick word to say I’m ok and have reached the edge of the forest.

  I pulled the phone out of my pocket and switched it on.

  I was about to dial her number, when a text message alert came up with its friendly, pulsing red light.

  Hi Dad, If you’re reading this, they are looking for you. Somewhere, and I expect quite close, is a helicopter, a search team with a dog and they’ve a handheld tracker that’s pinpointing your phone. So switch off quick, or better still, come back to the house, Rachel xx

  Almost at the same time, I heard the all too familiar rumbling, chop-chop-chop of rotor blades.

  ‘Damn it. What a fool I am.’ I pulled the bag back onto my shoulders and pressed the off switch on the blackberry. Too late I suppose, but it’s my own fault. And a dog too eh. Well that’s going to make things a bit difficult, first job will be to lose them...somehow. I moved farther into the densely wooded cover. Running in here will be difficult I thought, almost impossible in the dark. The gloom of evening was beginning to creep into the already darkened, stormy sky.

  I remembered service lectures during training, they said that losing a tracking dog is somewhere between very difficult and impossible. I’d never had to do it.

  Forget about wading through water, that’s for books and those old folk-tales, your scent can actually become enhanced by getting wet and in some cases will float on the surface. Best way is to zigzag and keep doubling back on your tracks. If you’ve got time.

  I felt myself starting to panic. My best chance at sorting this whole mess was to find my witness, my poacher. And my best chance of that lay ahead of me. I was sure of it.

  But wait, I thought. I’ve not been charged with anything. I’ve not been arrested. Ok I know the law wants to put me in court, but they’d done nothing formally, so far. So what was I worried about? Thinking about it calmly, I reasoned that the dog would be starting out cold, having been brought out in a chopper. They know where I was, within a metre or so, because of the phone, but they don’t know where I am now or where I might be. Chances are that they’ll try tracking me by using their phone detector, at least at first. Maybe I should give them a signal to follow. A plan began to tumble into place and I set off at a fast trot uphill, always picking a trail or gap that led upwards. Every so often I switched on my phone to send a signal to their direction finder. The ground, as I expected became progressively rockier and soon I was scrambling over some sizeable boulders. Phone was on all the time now. Every now and then I could hear my hunters. They seemed to be gaining, but I suppose they would.

  The edge of the forest came as a surprise, one moment I was moving over a carpet of soft pine needles and rocks, the next I was in the open and moving over a scree of rough, broken stone. Although the early evening sky was a bowl of thick storm-cloud, it was surprisingly lighter than it had been under the canopy of autumn trees. A craggy face of granite loomed not far away and up there is where I will go, if I can find a suitable spot to climb. A crack or a patch of broken rock would do. Crack would be best, they’d have to leave the dog behind.

  Ah, this looks promising, I thought. I had found a dark, almost vertical crack in the rock face. Squinting up it I could just about make out the heavy, rolling storm clouds that threatened to make it a cold, wet and darker evening. It seemed a fairly clean fault that ran all the way to the top.

  Climbing is easier without a heavy jacket, so I pulled it off and strapped it onto the top of my backpack, tightening the shoulder straps to make the balance as good as I could get it.

  I hoped that the rain would hold off until I got to the top, but of course
it didn’t. As I started on the shortish climb, I felt the first drops. As big as tea-plates they felt, as they splattered onto the rock and the top of my head. But really, I don’t suppose they were anything too unusual and with luck they’d slow the coppers a little. I could hear their stumblings and curses every so often now. Lightning flickered in the distance and a ponderous roll of thunder echoed around the sky.

  ‘I hear you Thor.’ I muttered as I felt along a small ledge for the next handhold. ‘Bit late this time old chap. You’d better be bringing me good news!’

  I grunted as I hauled my tired body over the last edge and sat on the top of the rock. In the flickering light of the distant flashes I could see that the scarp stretched away on either side of me and it seemed to be unbroken.

  ‘That should slow ‘em down.’ I told myself shaking off drops of rain from my face and pulling my jacket back on. I was beginning to feel the effects of hunger now. If I needed to keep going at this rate, I’d have to eat soon and something a bit more substantial than the bar of chocolate I’d just bitten into.

  Looking around I found a sturdy looking pine sapling, its roots couldn’t have been in anything more than a cupful of soil. It’d do. I put my trusty, battered old Blackberry into a plastic bag and hung it amongst the branches.

  I could hear the cops now they were coming along the foot of the scarp, and moving towards me. I could hear the crackle and static of their radio. The rain was getting heavier and, I hoped, sapping the enthusiasm of the trackers. They’d not have an easy climb.

  Their phone detection gadget seemed to be working too well. As I headed off along the top of the rocky top of the scarp, I could hear them go past the point where I’d climbed and then go back again. It wouldn’t take them long to find the fissure in the cliff-face. I was very tempted to hide somewhere and watch what happened when they homed in on the beacon of my lonely Blackberry. But that’d be crazy, so I kept my body low to disguise what faint silhouette there might be and set off towards the west at a loping run.

  At best I’d only covered a few hundred metres before I had to slow to a careful walk, the wet rock had become slippery and I couldn’t risk a twist or sprained ankle. The crashing sound of the storm, almost overhead now, blotted out any chance sound of tumbling rock or slipping boots. It also blotted out the sound of the approaching helicopter until it was almost right on top of me. It came over the edge of the rock like a soaring gull.