The effect of so startling an attack coupled with the strength of his attacker, and the look of diabolical fury on Rahn’s face, was enough for the gunman. He stopped struggling and dropped his weapon. Rahn lowered him, grabbing his collar as he did so, then stooped down and retrieved the discarded gun. As he made his way with his prisoner towards Sybilla, three figures crashed their way through the bushes, causing Rahn to swing around, pistol aimed from behind the prisoner towards the new threat. When he saw two gendarmes and a man in plain clothes, he visibly relaxed and changed course to meet them.
A brief conversation ensued, during which Rahn handed over the prisoner to the gendarmes and the gun to the plain-clothes man. While the authorities were engaged in arresting and handcuffing the detainee, Rahn ran over to Sybilla, who was just picking herself up from the ground.
“Give me your weapon!” he hissed.
“Wha—” she began.
“Now!” insisted Rahn. “I fired the shot, understand?” Sybilla nodded and slipped him the weapon, which he stuffed into the front of his belt. Sybilla gave him a meaningful glance to the rear to indicate the imminent arrival of the plain-clothes man. Rahn nodded imperceptibly and turned to meet him.
The plain-clothes man gave a curt nod to Sybilla, then glanced at Rahn, raising his eyebrows slightly as he did.
“Ah, you haven’t met, have you? Chef, this is Agent Skadi from British Intelligence. Agent Skadi, this is Chef d’Escadron Paul Fournier of the Gendarmerie.”
Sybilla, smiling, held out her hand, which the detective took and shook formally and briefly. The faintest of smiles flitted across his face before he turned and walked towards the downed gunman, his pistol in his hand, the firing mechanism cocked and the gun levelled at the man on the ground. He prodded the man with his foot, always having his gun ready. Receiving no response, he forced his foot under the body and turned it over. Reaching down, the gun still levelled, he felt for a pulse in the neck. Finally, he stood erect, made his weapon safe and slipped it into his overcoat.
Walking back to Rahn and Sybilla he asked, “He’s dead. Which of you fired the shot?”
“I did,” said Rahn. “He was coming towards us and had fired two shots. I returned fire in self-defence.”
“I will need to take your weapon, Wolf,” said the inspector. “Normal procedure, as you know.”
“Of course, Paul,” said Rahn as he pulled the Browning out from his belt. Ejecting the magazine and pointing the weapon at the ground, he pulled the slide back two or three times, clicking the trigger each time to ensure the weapon was safe before sliding the magazine back into the pistol and handing it to the detective. Fournier was about to slip the gun into his pocket when he did a double take. He shone his torch onto it and looked up at Rahn.
“This is a Browning. I would have thought you would have a MAC 50 or a Model 35?”
Rahn shrugged and grimaced. “I like the balance of the Browning, and you can get twice as many rounds in the magazine as you can in the Model 35. Who knows when that might be important?”
Fournier slipped the pistol into his pocket and continued to study Rahn for a few seconds before turning to Sybilla. “Your weapon, madame?”
“I’m not carrying one,” said Sybilla truthfully.
“Agent Skadi is here for identification purposes,” interposed Rahn. “She has met Müller in person.”
Not quite true, thought Sybilla, but I have certainly studied his photographs until his features are imprinted on my mind.
“Is either the dead man or the prisoner Müller?” asked the inspector.
“The one I caught certainly isn’t,” said Rahn. “Too young. Agent Skadi, would you care to look at this one?” he suggested, indicating the dead man.
The three of them walked over to the corpse and Sybilla studied the features while Fournier shone his torch on the dead man’s face. Kneeling, she motioned Fournier to bring the light closer, then lifted one eyelid wide. The eyeball had rolled upwards in death, but sufficient of the iris remained visible to check the colour. Standing up, she shook her head.
“This is not Müller,” she confirmed.
They made their way together to the main gate which now stood open, thanks to a conscientious gendarme who had extracted a grumbling, unhappy key holder from his cosy evening at home. Fournier stopped and indicated his car parked at the side of the road.
“Do you wish a lift back to the gendarmerie?”
“No, thank you Paul, my own car is just a little way along the road,” answered Rahn.
“I will wait here a little while until the coroner comes to deal with the body,” said the detective, “and I currently have two gendarmes scouring this place to ensure that that we haven’t missed Müller. I should get back to the gendarmerie in about an hour. You will call in tonight to make a statement, yes?” It was more of a demand than a request.
“Of course, Chef, we’ll drive directly there,” confirmed Rahn, starting to walk down the road.
“A moment, Madame?” said the detective as Sybilla turned to walk with Rahn. Sybilla returned and stood at his side. “Are you amenable to a little advice, Agent Skadi?”
“Of course, Chef.”
“In the type of enterprise in which you are engaged, I would have thought it a wise precaution to carry a weapon. Why don’t you ask Agent Rahn if you can borrow one of his? He appears to carry a newly acquired Browning in the front of his trousers and a Model 35 stuffed into the rear
