Wash This Blood Clean from My Hand

‘You think there’s a mole in the squad, Danglard?’

Danglard hesitated and gave a gentle kick to a ball, sending it across the room.

‘Possibly,’ he said.

‘But looking for what? My files on the judge?’

‘That’s what I can’t fathom. What would be the motive? I took prints from the key – just my own. Either I covered up the previous handler’s, or else the visitor wiped the key before putting it back in the drawer.’

Adamsberg half closed his eyes. Who on earth would have been interested in the Trident case? It was not as if he had ever made a mystery of it. The tension of travelling and a day without sleep were beginning to weigh on his shoulders. But knowing that Danglard was unlikely to have betrayed him was a relief. Not that he had any proof of his deputy’s innocence, apart from the transparency of his expression.

‘You didn’t think of any other way the “DangeR” might have been interpreted?’

‘Well, I thought some elements of the 1973 murder would be better held back from the RCMP. But the visitor had been there before me.’

‘Shit,’ said Adamsberg, with a start, interrupting the child’s sleep.

‘And had put everything back.’

Danglard brought out three folded sheets of paper from his inside pocket.

‘I’ve kept these on me ever since,’ he said handing them to Adamsberg.

The commissaire glanced over them. Yes, those were the documents he had been hoping that Danglard would spot. And the capitaine had been carrying them round on him ever since, for eleven days. That must be proof that he had not betrayed him to Laliberte. Unless he had sent copies.

‘This time,’ Adamsberg said, handing them back, ‘you understood what I meant when I was thousands of kilometres away, and on the strength of an inconspicuous signal. So why is it that sometimes we can’t communicate when we’re only a metre apart?’

Danglard threw another ball up in the air.

‘A matter of what it’s about, I dare say,’ he said with his thin smile.

‘Why are you keeping the papers on you?’ Adamsberg asked after a pause.

‘Because since your escape, I’ve been under constant surveillance. They’re watching my building, because they’re hoping that if you slip through their fingers, you’ll try to see me. Which is what you were about to do, just now. That’s why we’re sitting in this school.’

‘Brezillon?’

‘Of course. His men went into your flat officially, as soon as the RCMP sounded the alarm. Brezillon has his orders and they’ve turned everything upside down. One of their own commissaires a murderer and on the run. The Minister has agreed with the Canadian authorities to arrest you the minute you set foot in France. The entire French police force is on alert. So you can’t go home. Or to Camille’s studio. Your usual haunts are all watched.’

Adamsberg stroked the child’s head automatically. It seemed to make the little boy sleep more soundly. If Danglard had betrayed him, he wouldn’t have taken him to the school to help him avoid the police.

‘My apologies for my suspicions, capitaine.’

‘Logic isn’t your strong point, that’s all. In future, don’t count on it.’

‘That’s what I’ve been telling you for years.’

‘No, not logic in general, just your logic. Where can you find a safe house? That make-up won’t protect you for ever.’

‘I thought of going to Clementine’s.’

‘Yes, good idea,’ said Danglard approvingly. ‘They won’t think of that, and you won’t be disturbed there.’

‘But cooped up there for the rest of my days.’

‘I know. That’s what I’ve been thinking of for the last week.’

‘Are you sure, Danglard, that my lock wasn’t forced?’

‘Certain. The visitor used the key. It must be someone from the office.’

‘A year ago, I didn’t know anyone there except you.’

‘Well, perhaps one of them knew you. You’ve put plenty of people behind bars, after all. That can spark off hate, thirst for vengeance. Perhaps a family member who wants to make you pay? Someone who’s trying to get back at you, using this old business of the judge.’

‘But who would have known about the Trident case?’

‘Everyone saw you go off to Strasbourg.’

Adamsberg shook his head.

‘Nobody else could have known the link between Schiltigheim and the judge. Unless I’d told them. There’s only one person who would make the connection. Himself.’

‘Do you really think your walking corpse went to the office? Took your keys, searched your files, to find out what you thought you were on to at Schiltigheim? Anyway the living dead don’t need keys, they just walk through walls.’

‘Very true.’

‘Look, can we agree just one thing about the Trident? You can call him the Judge, or Fulgence if you like, but let me call him the Disciple. A real live person who for some reason is trying to carry on the judge’s work. I’m willing to grant you that much and it’ll avoid a lot of tension.’

Danglard threw another ball up into the air and caught it.

‘Sanscartier,’ he said, changing the subject abruptly. ‘You said he wasn’t that convinced?’

‘According to Retancourt. Does it matter?’

‘I liked the guy. A bit slow of speech, yes, but I liked him. His reaction on the spot is interesting. And what about Retancourt? What did you think of her?’

‘Exceptional.’

‘I’d have liked to do a bit of close combat with her,’ said Danglard with a sigh which seemed to contain genuine regret.

‘I don’t think it would work with someone your size. It was a remarkable experience, Danglard, but it’s not worth committing murder just to give it a try.’

Adamsberg’s voice had become gruff. The two men walked slowly to the back of the room, since Danglard had decided Adamsberg had better leave by the garage exit. Adamsberg was still carrying the sleeping child in his arms. He knew the endless tunnel he was about to enter, and so did Danglard.

‘Don’t use the metro or bus,’ Danglard advised him. ‘Go there on foot.’

‘Danglard, who else could possibly have known I had no memory of 26 October? Apart from you.’

The capitaine thought for a moment, rattling his coins in his pocket.

‘Just one other person,’ he concluded. ‘The one who helped you lose it.’

‘Logical.’

‘Yes, my sort of logic.’

‘But who, Danglard?’

‘Someone who was there with us, among the eight people? Take out you, me and Retancourt, that leaves five, Justin, Voisenet, Froissy, Estalere, Noel. Someone who could look in your files.’

‘And the Disciple, what do you make of him?’

‘Nothing much. I’m concentrating on more concrete elements.’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as your symptoms that night of the 26th. Now that’s something that really bothers me. The wobbly legs for instance.’

‘I’d had a hell of a lot to drink, as you know.’

‘Yes. Were you taking any pills? Tranquillisers?’

‘No, Danglard, I don’t think I’m the kind of person who normally needs a tranquilliser.’

‘True. But your legs wouldn’t carry you, that’s what it felt like, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Adamsberg in surprise. ‘They just wouldn’t hold me up.’

‘But only after you hit the branch. That’s what you told me. Sure of that?’

‘Yes, but what of it?’