trouble, although he couldn’t think why Blake would have told him about it unless it was already known in certain quarters.
‘I think it matters very much. I would like the name, please, Rocco.’
Rocco shook his head. ‘If the information is out there already, Colonel, and I heard about it, then it’s too late to matter. The person who told me is not a threat, I promise you. But ignoring it is.’
More ticks of the clock, then, ‘Very well. You had better show me.’
Rocco led him downstairs to the wall map, and asked Berthier to clear the office and make sure nobody entered. When the door was closed, he explained in brief what he believed would happen, based on having seen the location and the entrance and exit roads, and its uncanny similarity to the site of the ramming. He used his rough- drawn sketch to back this up, then stood back and let Saint-Cloud think it over. What he didn’t mention was Calloway and his colleagues; while all the clues pointed towards their involvement somehow, he still wasn’t sure how a group of Englishmen could be tied in with an assassination attempt on the French head of state. That part still made no sense. Besides, there were other reasons why he didn’t want to set that particular hare running just yet.
The colonel seemed unimpressed. ‘I can see why you would consider this, Inspector. But the president has given no indications to me that he intends going to this Pont Noir, wherever it is. It may well have some historic and social importance to France and other countries, but he has far more important places to visit. In fact, I can show you one where my own experience tells me he is far more vulnerable… and where I have good reason to believe he will go very soon.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘I do have experience of these matters. Ensuring the safety of the President of the Republic is not as straightforward as catching criminals, I assure you.’
Rocco couldn’t understand why Saint-Cloud was being so dismissive. But he was remembering Santer’s warning about watching his back, and his vulnerability should anything go wrong. He’d been assigned to Saint-Cloud to help with the security review, and that was what he was doing. But he was determined not to be fobbed off because of the security chief’s superiority over a police detective. ‘I think you need to see this place for yourself.’
Saint-Cloud looked almost affronted at having his decision questioned. He took a deep breath and said coldly, ‘Are you absolutely certain, Inspector Rocco, that you have not allowed yourself to be influenced by some… disconnected but inexplicable events involving a car and a truck, driven by people you have not yet found? I can see why you would draw the conclusions you have, but this all seems… circumstantial, and frankly, nothing more than cinematic in scope.’
‘Maybe. But it won’t harm to look, will it? And,’ he added dryly, ‘your expertise will soon prove it one way or another.’
It was a challenge Saint-Cloud couldn’t ignore, nor could he dismiss the suggestion of an eyeball inspection. ‘Very well,’ he said stiffly. ‘How long will it take? Only I have a meeting in one hour. I’ll take my own car.’
‘Depends how fast you drive,’ said Rocco. He headed for the door and the rear car park. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you.’ A strong grain of rebellion resisted the courtesy of offering the colonel a lift. Besides, he had a feeling the man would only sneer at Rocco’s Traction and deem it unworthy of a proper policeman.
As he turned along the corridor leading to the back door, leaving Saint-Cloud to get his car keys, he saw Caspar walking towards him, a relaxed grin on his face. They shook hands and Rocco led the former undercover cop outside.
‘Good to see you again,’ he said quickly, unlocking his car. ‘Thanks for coming.’
Caspar looked in good trim, although still gaunt, but less strained than he had previously, less haunted. ‘My pleasure. I needed a change of scenery, anyway. And it gave me an excuse to sit on a train and do nothing for a while.’
‘Good idea. Santer says you’re working.’
‘Yes. Some regular jobs doing security and a bit of low-level surveillance. Nothing too big yet. But getting there.’ He smiled almost shyly, his demeanour a complete transformation from when Rocco had last seen him. But then, he had been beaten and shot, which tends to make even the strong wilt a little. ‘But this is good.’
‘You still want to get back in?’ Caspar had been suspended on health grounds after the strain of working undercover had become too great. But he’d been desperate to regain his badge ever since, convinced he could still make a contribution.
‘Actually, I’m no longer so sure about that.’
‘Really? What’s changed?’
‘The work. The stuff I do now, it’s got its moments, but there’s no longer the same pressure. There’s some risk, but I can handle it.’ He shrugged. ‘And I’m not kidding myself anymore, you know? I was too near the edge for too long. Problem was, I couldn’t see it.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Anyway, I’ve got a girlfriend now. Christ, I’m almost respectable!’
Moments later, Saint-Cloud came out and climbed in his car. If he noticed Caspar, he gave no indication. Rocco led the way out to the Pont Noir, filling in Caspar on the way, including Bellin’s part in the car’s planned disappearance.
‘I’ll put the word out,’ Caspar said. ‘See what the gossips are saying.’
‘It was just a car — a tool for a job. But I think Bellin was being paid by someone big to get rid of it; someone he’s terrified of.’
‘Someone around here?’
Rocco shook his head. ‘Someone in Paris.’ The capital was full of scary people; people who’d only have to glance at a man like Bellin to throw him into a funk.
Caspar puffed his cheeks. ‘Christ, that narrows it down a bit. But not much.’ He nodded through the windscreen. ‘He looks familiar. Not your boss, is he?’
‘Have you heard of Colonel Saint-Cloud?’
‘What, Big Charles’s bodyguard?’ Caspar looked impressed. ‘That’s him? What’s he doing here — and why you?’
‘I was about to explain that. You’ll be working on his payroll, although I don’t expect you to like him for it.’
‘Great. And as long as I don’t have to throw myself in front of a bullet for him.’
‘I had the same thought.’ He explained where they were going, and Saint-Cloud’s resistance to the idea of an attack site or the method involved.
Caspar caught on fast. He’d been around senior officers and officials enough to know that one always had to be on one’s guard. ‘Right. So it’s eyes and ears to the ground, keep my head down and my mouth shut.’
‘Exactly. Find out anything you can about the attack at Guignes… and whether it’s possible they or another group could be planning a follow-up here. They might be crazy enough to try again just because nobody expects it.’
‘Or someone will try to top it.’ Caspar stared out of the window. ‘Wouldn’t take much, topping failure with a successful hit.’
‘Or that.’
‘So he’s definitely coming?’ Caspar meant de Gaulle.
‘Saint-Cloud seems to think so, but he’s not giving anything away.’ He told him what Blake had said about the private visit.
‘I’ll see what I can find out. I know a few OAS guys with long memories, but they’ve gone quiet since independence. I doubt they’re still active, although they might know people who are. What exactly do you want me to do?’
‘Dig around, see if you can get a line on any groups with contacts out this way. So far I’ve got nothing because Saint-Cloud’s given me nothing. But I don’t want to be handed my head on a plate for not trying, and missing something obvious… something you might be able to dig out instead. Santer will fill you in on the N19 attack, but that ended so badly, I wouldn’t rate them as being ready for another go.’
‘Sounds like it was costly, losing two men for a carload of paperwork.’
Rocco agreed. It still puzzled him that the attackers, which had included a former soldier, had stumbled so badly. Getting imprecise information on a target’s timing or route was always a risk plotters had to juggle with. But getting it so badly wrong had been disastrous on an epic scale. It prompted a thought.
‘You might get Santer to find out the name of the motorcycle escort who fought back. See if you can speak to
