‘He’s from Sierra Leone.’
‘Ah,’ Toucas said suspiciously, ‘An African.’
‘No, a Frenchman,’ Luc responded.
Toucas half-smiled. ‘Well, we need to find Pierre Berewa. Do you have his mobile number? Can you call him?’
Luc’s phone was dead. He used the Colonel’s to no avail. Suddenly, he looked at his own desk. The drawers were tipped out. ‘We kept the spare key to the cave entrance in that drawer.’
‘See if you can find it,’ Toucas said. ‘But put these gloves on please.’ He pointed to a box of latex gloves left there by the forensics squad. ‘Fingerprints.’
Luc began rummaging through the files.
‘How many keys did you have?’ Toucas asked.
‘Two. Pierre had my key.’
‘Ah, Pierre, again.’
After an exhaustive search Luc declared the spare key missing and said, ‘I think we should check the cave.’
‘Very well, let’s do that.’
Lieutenant Billeter drove. On the way, Toucas took a call, mostly listening. When he was done he turned to Luc in the back seat. ‘The coroner tells me there was something interesting about the rape samples from the female victims.’
Luc didn’t want to hear but Toucas wasn’t attuned to his sensibilities.
‘The rapist had abnormal sperm. Short tails, apparently not good swimmers. The doctor used the term, ‘immotile’. Maybe this will be helpful, we’ll see.’
Luc could see Marie and Elizabeth in his mind. For the first time that day tears began to stream down his face.
At the end of the lane, they saw Pierre’s red car in the gravel parking area. Luc ran to it, but Billeter warned him off. ‘Don’t touch anything!’
They peered in but it was empty.
Luc led them down the ladder. On the ledge of the cliff the sight of the gate wide open sent him into fury. ‘Someone’s been in there! Christ!’
Billeter used his walkie talkie to radio for more men.
‘Take us in there, Professor,’ Toucas said, unbuttoning his stiff leather holster.
There was still a cardboard box of shoe covers in the cave mouth. Luc hit the universal power switch and the entire cave lit up, front to back.
‘We should have protective clothes,’ Luc mumbled.
‘To protect us?’ Toucas asked.
‘No, the cave.’
‘Under the circumstances, let’s not worry about that,’ the colonel commanded.
Toucas and Billeter seemed irritably distracted by the cave art, as if it was put there to confuse a crime scene. Luc moved forward cautiously, checking each treasure, fearful he would find graffiti, or some ruinous act. Anyone capable of debasing human life would certainly be capable of that.
‘What are these?’ Toucas asked, pointing at a Roman Numeral III, affixed to the wall.
‘There are ten chambers in the cave. This is the third, The Chamber of the Red Deer.’
‘Which is the most important?’
‘They’re all important. But if I had to answer, I’d say the tenth chamber.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
They finally got to Chamber 9. Luc took some comfort in seeing all the art untouched, as perfect as ever.
They entered the tunnel on hands and knees.
When they emerged from the tunnel into the tenth chamber and the Vault of Hands, Luc immediately saw Pierre’s long arm in the Chamber of Plants.
He shouted, ‘Pierre!’ and ran to him.
He was lying face-down.
His black skin was as cold as the cave floor. Billeter went through the motions of trying to find a pulse and declared that rigor mortis had already set in.
‘Search him,’ Toucas ordered, and Billeter donned gloves and began the task while Luc collapsed on his haunches to watch the nightmarish scene.
Another student murdered.
At the feet of the bird man.
In this mystical place.
He heard Abbot Menaud’s words in his head: ‘I’m afraid they’re all gone.’
Billeter was saying something that he missed. Luc looked up and asked him to repeat it. ‘I said he had one key in his pocket. Is this the original or the copy?’
‘It’s the original. It’s my keychain.’
Billeter resumed his inspection. ‘There’s a stab wound in his right flank. We’ll see what the coroner says but that’s the probable cause of death.’
‘What do these mean, these plants and that man or whatever he is with this erection of his?’ Toucas asked.
‘I don’t know if we’ll ever know what they mean,’ Luc answered wearily. ‘I’m sure people will have theories.’
‘What’s your theory?’
‘Right now, I couldn’t say. My best student is dead. My people are dead. The women…’
Toucas didn’t pretend to be empathic. ‘This isn’t idle chatter, Professor. I’m conducting an investigation! Do you want justice? I’m sure you do! How well did you know this man?’ He pointed at Pierre with a jut of his chin.
‘I knew him very well. He was with me for four years. He was a good archaeologist. He might have become a great one.’
‘Where was he before he was your student?’
‘Paris. University of Paris. He was Parisian.’
‘From Africa.’
Luc keyed on the accusatory way the man spat that out. ‘So what?’
‘Did he ever have friends or relatives come visit him here?’
‘No.’
‘Did he have any bad habits, drugs?’
‘No. Not that I know of.’
‘Money problems?’
‘Beyond what all students face? I wouldn’t know. What are you driving at?’
Toucas rubbed his fleshy cheeks with the heels of his hands in a show of fatigue or maybe exasperation. ‘A crime has been committed. A great crime. All crimes have motives and opportunities. Why do you think Pierre Berewa was in this cave, professor?’
‘I don’t know. He shouldn’t have been.’
‘Well then. We have a motive. There’s been a theft. Your equipment is gone, the purses and wallets of the victims were taken. There was a sexual assault. Spontaneous perhaps. The women were there. The perpetrators were men. It happens. And your Pierre had a key to the cave. Maybe…’ He stopped long enough to respond to Luc’s growing anger. He had risen from his squat and was towering over the colonel, growing red with rage. ‘Just maybe, Professor, please listen to me, this student had some shady dealings with bad people. Maybe he was their opportunity. We must keep an open mind.’
‘There was another key!’ Luc shouted, the words echoing in the chamber. ‘It’s gone. Maybe Pierre was trying to stop them from – I don’t know what.’
