She would have to say it. ‘Reineck wanted her very badly and Hector loves to tease and constantly needs favours from them, they from him.’
Ah bon. ‘And the boy in this photo?’
Not the man, not the gestapiste francaise and second-in-command shy; of Rudy de Merode’s Neuilly Gestapo. ‘The son of the other shy;. Pierre-Alexandre Lebeznikov, a subdeacon or something. She takes rosemary to him for the incense burners.’
‘Grown where, please?’
Why on earth did he need to know that? ‘The Jardin des Plantes, one of the assistant gardeners.’
‘Name, since that lover of yours would have had you find that out as well and Hauptmann Reineck would have had that photographer make certain of it.’
Ah, mon Dieu, mon Dieu, this was all going wrong! ‘Jacques Leporatti.’
An Italian, a former Communist probably. ‘Bolduc certainly got you to check up on this girl, so perhaps you’d be good enough to tell me why, beyond what you’ve already admitted?’
It would have to be said. ‘Hector moves people into and out of Paris in those vans of his. The service is far from free, you understand, but please don’t think it’s completely illegal and against the wishes of our friends. Hauptmann Reineck and Leutnant Heiss both knew of it long ago, and when Annette-Melanie told Hector on 28 November last that her mother was very ill and she had to get home in a hurry, Hector offered to help and she went to meet him at that garage of his.’
‘Those overseers of his also having known of this?’
‘Oui. Those two have always closely watched everything Hector does, including his affair with myself, and his putting the money up for this escort service.’
‘And at that garage whichever drivers and assistants were present would have seen her?’
Had he thrown her a rope? ‘Hector letting them say what they would of her to themselves and then joking about it and telling them that was exactly what she needed.’
The knife at last! ‘And she returned when, please?’
‘The tenth of December.’
‘Having used the service twice-out and back into Paris?’
‘Oui, but … but it didn’t happen then, and this time she … she lined up at the Kommandantur for hours to get the necessary papers and took the train to Rethel. This I know because he had me check.’
‘He wanted to know why she hadn’t asked him again?’
‘Most certainly.’
‘And that then caused him and those overseers of his to question the matter further?’
Hector would definitely not be happy with her. ‘Oui.’
‘Now let’s be absolutely clear on this. Would Deniard and Paquette have recognized her after an absence of eight months?’
‘Me, I have to think so.’
‘But would they still have tried to do what Bolduc felt she needed?’
‘To please him? Ah mon Dieu, does it really matter so much? She’s just a student and has nothing but a dissertation on those damned monasteries and monks.’
Ah bon. ‘You’ve been in that girl’s room, have you?’
This was not good. ‘Only for a look. She … she has nothing, Inspector. Not a thing from home, just the cork from a champagne bottle on her bedside table.’
‘But did that lead to the broken neck of another in the back of that van, mademoiselle?’
‘It must have, mustn’t it? That’s what Hector and his overseers have just come to believe, and now they want that girl more than ever since she will be able to lead them to all those diamonds, but she’s out there somewhere and they don’t know where.’
* Paperbacks read and left at a journey’s end.
* By Pierre Souvestre and Marcel Allain, the first published on 10 February 1911. Immensely popular, the original series sold more than 5 million copies and has gained readers ever since.
* Now the Gare de Bercy.
* All for one, one for all, and from D’Artagnan, in The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, 1844.
9
Having just arrived back from the metro where things had been difficult to say the least, felt Anna-Marie, she had found Monsieur Figeard adamant. Nothing would suffice but that she immediately leave and go next door to tell Pierre-Alexandre that she couldn’t marry him.
‘Mademoiselle, that boy has to stop pestering me. I can’t have him coming here at all hours begging to know if you’ve returned. I’ve told him nothing, you understand. Absolument rien!’
‘I’ll just go up to my room, then I’ll go to see him.’
St-Cyr was still in the building! ‘Don’t! Go now and quickly.’
For emphasis, he glanced at the ceiling, instantly letting her know there was a far greater reason. ‘Should I take my bike?’
Grace a Dieu, she had understood. ‘That would, I think, be a good idea, but hurry.’
She couldn’t leave her suitcase, couldn’t leave the diamonds, yet could take neither at present. ‘If I can, I’ll duck in to let you know how things go.’
‘In ten minutes I’ll be waiting at the artists’ entrance.’
Ten and not a moment longer. A black, four-door Citroen, its engine at idle, was parked outside Chez Kornilov, the two leaning against it wearing the broad-lapelled suits and snap brims of gestapistes francais and smoking cigarettes while waiting for their boss. All of which was terrible, but had Arie had a premonition of it?
‘Arie,’ she said, only to realize she had just kissed the heel of her gloved left hand.
Having retrieved the Sparta and its trailer from the cellars, she now had to walk them under the eyes of those two. Every second told her they would cross the rue Daru to grab her and the bike, but they didn’t. They just looked and looked, seemingly as men will.
There was a side door she usually went to during the week when services were not being held. Opening onto a small grove of trees and a garden, it offered respite and a modicum of seclusion, but she wouldn’t have to knock and wait for Pierre-Alexandre. The door was propped open by an upended wooden shoe, not Dutch but Russian from the days of the Revolution.
Monsieur Sergei Lebeznikov-she couldn’t think of him as Serge de Lenz-was listening attentively to his son’s baritone which melodiously filled the cathedral. On seeing her, he smiled generously and softly said, ‘He’s good, isn’t he? It’s his calling.’
‘Monsieur, can we speak outside a moment, please?’
Did the girl not want to listen? ‘Mademoiselle, the boy will be glad to see you back safely. Was it bad-your mother?’
‘Not at all. Perfect, really. A miracle, but …’
He had taken her by the arm.
‘There will be no buts. When he’s finished, we’ll cross the street and have a little celebration. I’ll get the others to do what I was going to.’
The others-those two. ‘Monsieur Lebeznikov, please speak to Pierre-Alexandre for me. I can’t marry him. Maman is deeply of our Church; my father was too. For me to do such a thing would be to go against everything they’ve taught me. Besides, I hardly know him.’
Perhaps if he gently told her how it really was for most? ‘Knowing often comes. It just takes its time.’
Why must he be so impossible? ‘There’s the war; this Occupation. Everything is so uncertain. Please, I have to hurry to the dentist. I can’t be late. Tell him I’ll see him later but he mustn’t bother Concierge Figeard anymore.’
‘Leave the bike. My men will give you a lift.’
‘It’s not far but afterward I must go to the Bibliotheque Nationale to renew my place in its reading room. If I don’t, I’ll lose it and I can’t have that, not now, not when my dissertation is almost finished.’