always been fair to us gypsies, wouldn’t you say? Treated us respectfully and with dignity? Given us courtesy and equal rights with the rest of the French population? Why shouldn’t we help them for a change? Return the compliment?’
‘You haven’t forgotten what happened last time?’ ‘We’re better prepared this time. And if the worst comes to the worst the police can always act as our back-up. It’ll be like John Wayne in Stagecoach.’ Sabir gave him an old- fashioned look. ‘Yeah. I know. I know. We’re not playing a game of cowboys and Indians. But I think we ought to use this guy’s own tactics against him. It nearly worked last time…’
‘… apart from your balls and your teeth…’ ‘… apart from my balls and my teeth. Yes. But it will work this time. If we plan it right, that is. And if we don’t lose our nerve.’
6
Calque eased himself out through the broken front window of the police car. He lay for a while, spreadeagled on the ground, looking up at the sky. Macron had been right. The airbag did work with the seat belt. In fact it worked so well that it had broken his nose. He put up a hand and fumbled at the new shape, but didn’t quite have the courage to yank it back into place. ‘Macron?’ ‘I can’t move, Sir. And I can smell petrol.’ The car had settled at the exact apex of the corner. Calque had an absurd vision of prising open the boot, taking out the warning triangles and then limping back to set them up so that no one would inadvertently run into the back of them. Health and safety directives insisted that he should also wear a reflective vest when he did this. For a brief moment he was actually tempted to laugh.
Instead, he struggled to his knees and craned down to peer under the wreck. ‘Can you reach the keys?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, switch off the engine.’
‘It happens automatically when the airbags inflate. But I’ve turned the thing off anyway to make sure.’
‘Good lad. Can you reach your cellphone?’
‘No. My left hand is caught between the seat and the door. And the airbag is between my right hand and my pocket.’
Calque sighed. ‘All right. I’m standing up now. I’ll get to you in a moment.’ Calque rocked on his feet. All the blood moved to his body’s periphery and for a moment he thought he would fall down in a dead faint.
‘Are you all right, Sir?’
‘My nose is broken. I’m feeling a bit weak. I’m coming now.’ Calque sat down in the road. Very slowly he lay back down and closed his eyes. From somewhere behind him there came the sudden, distant scream of over-heated brakes.
7
‘How did he get the sub-machine gun?’
‘From the Spanish paramilitary, of course. Villada never got around to telling me that bit.’
Calque was sitting beside Macron in the Accident and Emergency department of Rodez Hospital. Both of them were bandaged and taped. Calque had one arm in a sling. His nose had been reset and he could feel the residual effects of the local anaesthetic niggling away at his front teeth.
‘I can still drive, Sir. If you can get us a fresh car, I’d like to take another shot at the eye-man.’
‘Did you say another shot? I can’t remember the first one.’
‘It was only a manner of speaking.’
‘Well it was a stupid manner of speaking.’ Calque laid his head back on to the seat cushion. ‘The roadblock boys don’t even believe the eye-man was there because there are no bullet holes anywhere in the car. I’ve told them the bastard obviously cleaned up after himself, but still they amuse themselves thinking that we smashed up the car by mistake and are trying to cover our tracks.’
‘You mean he did it on purpose? He’s trying to make us into a laughing stock?’
‘He’s laughing at us. Yes.’ Calque ran a cigarette beneath his nose and prepared to light it. A nurse shook her head and motioned him outside with her finger. Calque sighed. ‘They want to take the case away from me. Give it to the DCSP.’
‘But they can’t do that.’
‘They can. And they will. Unless I give them a convincing reason otherwise.’
‘Your seniority, Sir.’
‘Yes. That’s convincing. I can feel every day of it in my back, in my arms, in my upper thighs and in my feet. I think there’s a place halfway up my right calf which still feels young and vigorous though. Maybe I should show them that?’
‘But we’ve seen him. We’ve seen his face.’
‘At eighty metres. From a moving car. Behind a sub-machine gun.’
‘But they don’t know that.’
Calque sat forward. ‘Are you suggesting I lie to them, Macron? Exaggerate the extent of my knowledge? Merely in order to keep a case that has threatened, on a number of occasions now, to finish us off?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Bunching his fingers like a crane clamp, Calque gently palpated his newly straightened nose. ‘You may have a point, my boy. You may have a point.’
8
‘I need access to the internet.’
‘The what?’
‘To a computer. I need an internet cafe.’
‘Are you mad, Damo? The police are still looking for you. Someone will probably read the news on the computer next to you, see your photo, call in your details and watch happily as they come to pick you up. Then, if they film the whole scene of your capture on their webcams, they can post it straight away and make their names. They will be instant millionaires. Better than the lottery.’
‘I thought you couldn’t read, Alexi? How come you know so much about computers?’
‘He plays games.’
Sabir turned round and stared at Yola. ‘I’m sorry?’
She yawned. ‘He goes to internet cafes and he plays games.’
‘But he’s a grown-up.’
‘Still.’
Alexi couldn’t see Yola’s face as he was driving but he managed to dart a few concerned glances into the rear-view mirror. ‘What’s wrong with playing games?’
‘Nothing. If you’re fifteen.’
Yola and Sabir were trying to hide their enjoyment behind faked straight faces. Alexi was the perfect subject for teasing because he took everything which referred to himself at absolute face value, whereas, when it referred to other people, he was considerably more selective.
Alexi had obviously succeeded in reading their minds for once, for he immediately changed tack to a more serious subject. ‘Tell me why you need the internet, Damo?’
‘To find a new Black Virgin. We need to pinpoint a place, well away from the Camargues, to which we can lure the eye-man. And which he will believe in. For this we need a Black Virgin.’
Yola shook her head. ‘I don’t think you should do this.’
