‘No. No, of course not. Please, you mustn’t worry. The girl will soon return.’
‘Then why did you ask that about Nana? What else would she have called herself?’
It would do no good to avoid the issue, but Nana had obviously come gradually to understand who the child’s real father was. ‘We only thought it might be a stage name, as is the Mademoiselle Arcuri’s, whose real name is Natal’ya Kulakov-Myshkin.’
‘A Russian!’
‘But widowed. Her married name is Theriault.’
Louis was just digging a hole for himself. ‘When did they arrive to take the girl?’ asked Kohler.
Her look was cold, but she knew she’d have to answer. ‘A week ago yesterday. They came, they said, only to deliver the suitcase but when she learned of Madame’s death, Mademoiselle Theleme agreed to take Sylvianne with her even though they would have to seek residence and travel papers for her. The Mademoiselle Arcuri was convinced she could take care of the matter and that there would be no problem. “The Kommandant von Gross Paris is an old friend,” she said. “He’ll understand the need and that there is nothing untoward in our request.”’
Old Shatter Hand wasn’t going to like it when he learned the truth, thought Kohler but said pleasantly enough, ‘They went to a quarry.’
‘Yes. Monsieur Jacqmain had told Mademoiselle Theleme of the pierre fine from which the Chateau de Versailles was constructed. This limestone came from quarries nearby.’
Building at Versailles had begun in 1624, recalled St-Cyr. Louis XIII had wanted a small hunting pavilion, but it was the Sun King, Louis XIV, who, from 1661 to 1681, had built on an impressively grand scale and in 1682 had made Versailles the official residence and seat of government.
‘Monsieur Jacqmain did come to Senlis occasionally, Inspectors, but never to this house. It was his intention to reopen one of the old quarries but not for cut stone, you understand. For road metal. He invested substantially but was thwarted. No one wanted the noise of the blasting. Several were afraid the vibrations would disturb their livestock, even the honeybees in the orchards. There is also a small and very old chapel near the quarry. A beautiful little church the workers used to be blessed in each day before work began. The resident father was most concerned about the ancient stained glass which is said to be some of the finest in …’
‘Yes, yes,’ said St-Cyr, ‘but when, please, did Monsieur Jacqmain invest in the project?’
‘During the rainy season in Africa he would return to France. It was in 1936 but if you ask me, Inspector, I believe, as did Madame, that his sole object was to find an excuse to be close to his daughter. We … we could not let that happen and … and lent our voices to those of the others. Since then, we have not seen him.’
De Vries could not have known then, in 1934, of the explosives and could only have learned of them much later. ‘And those two Parisiennes wanted to see an ancient quarry just so that they could tell others they’d been there?’ asked Kohler.
Was the Bavarian a disbeliever of everything? ‘Nana said Monsieur Jacqmain had given her something that had to be returned to the magazine. He was most insistent.’
‘The nitroglycerine in the suitcase,’ interjected St-Cyr.
‘Yes. A flask that was kept in its special box. He had taken it away just before the war stopped him from going back to his savages. You see, I have the keys to the gates and to the magazines. The quarry is just to the east of Aumont-en-Halatte, in the escarpment, but the roads … this weather … the darkness. They went in daylight. Surely you’re not …’
‘No problem,’ said Kohler. ‘All we need are the keys. We’ll see that they’re returned with Sylvianne.’
When they reached the car and were letting its engine warm, Kohler said, ‘The kid’s the Gypsy’s, Louis, and Nana soon figured it out.’
‘But was Tshaya aware of Nana’s continued interest in the child or of Jacqmain’s interest in Nana?’
‘She must have been. When faced with deportation in 1941, she fled to Tours to be close to the one man she knew would help her because she had what he wanted, the scars, and his mother had what was hers. Is she the reason Nana bought the flypapers?’
‘Strychnine is most unpleasant, Hermann. The body convulses. The face grows livid, the eyes bulge until death intervenes, then …’
‘Ja, ja, mein lieber Detektiv, just answer the question, eh?’
Kohler got out to rip the black-out tape from the headlamps. ‘It’s an emergency,’ he said. ‘Gabrielle and Nana and Suzanne-Cecilia each must know it’s only a matter of time until they’re picked up, if they haven’t already been.’
Louis sighed heavily. ‘Then perhaps that is why Nana wanted the strychnine and it is only a matter of time until they take it.’
*
The forest was close, the road winding. Ahead of them the garde champetre of Aumont-en-Halatte pushed his sturdy bicycle, cursing the snow, the lateness of the hour and themselves most especially.
Beyond a wooden bridge across a frozen stream, tall and rusting gates bore a last vestige of the Sun King’s coat of arms and the faded notice Defense d’entrer.
‘I will wait here, Inspectors,’ grumbled the village cop. ‘That way, if there is trouble, some warning may be given.’
A wise man, was that it? wondered Kohler, squinting down through the driving snow at this father of seven children, all of whom had been under the age of five. ‘You do that, Henri, but make sure the tombstones are of granite, eh? and not of limestone. It lasts a hell of a lot longer.’
The bushy eyebrows knitted themselves, the grizzled moon-cheeks tightened. Paris would have to be told how things were. Paris must be forced to listen! ‘Inspector, no one has been here for years. The magazines are isolated – ah! certainement, Monsieur Jacqmain has obeyed all the regulations to the letter. Distance from the working face. Protection in case of accident. Two timbered walls with sand packed between in case some idiot with a rifle should have target practice. A double roof aussi, and sufficient ventilation. But …’ He paused. He gave these two time to reconsider their little adventure. ‘But the dynamite should have been taken away long ago. It smells. The heat in summer has not been good for it, the dampness in springtime also.’
‘Anything else?’ asked the giant, grinning down at him from under a beaver hat with full earflaps that were tied beneath the chin.
‘Oui. Many times I have notified the authorities in your army to send a disposal crew but without success.’
‘We only want to have a look.’
The chubby lips were pursed in exasperation. ‘That is what I am afraid of.’
A wise man again.
‘Inspectors, there are two magazines and they are well off to your left some 600 metres once you enter the property. They are behind a remnant of the original escarpment, a boss of rock that was not mined out. First comes the powder magazine and then, some fifty paces further, that of the blasting caps.’
Companionably Kohler clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘Give us a fag, eh? For the war effort. Hey, make it two.’
‘Hermann, if he has any, they will have to be hand rolled. It will take all night in this wind!’
Woefully the dark brown eyes caught the light from the headlamps. ‘I have none,’ lamented the village flic. ‘Now even the tobacco ration has been cut in half, nor can I take one stick of wood from the forest to warm the toes.’
Hard times.
‘Inspectors, please watch your step. With the snow, the crevasses in the floor will be hidden. Those, that is, which do not have the cedars sprouting from them.’
The big one switched off the headlamps and the engine and pocketed the keys only to take them out to lock all doors. ‘Our guns,’ he said. ‘I’m the one who’s responsible for them. They’re under the driver’s seat, so keep an eye on the car.’