An Uncertain Place

‘The other two, doctor. Who are the other two people you killed?’

‘I haven’t killed any people.’

‘The two other creatures then.’

‘The grand master, Plogan, and his daughter. Terrible forces of evil. I started with them.’

‘Where?’

The paramedics came in and put down a stretcher, taking out their equipment. Adamsberg gestured to them to wait a few moments.

Madame Bourlant was listening hard to the conversation, shaking with fear.

‘Where?’

‘In Savolinna.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Finland.’

‘When? Before Pressbaum?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is Plogan their real name?’

‘Yes. Veiko and Leena Plogan. Dreadful creatures. He reigns no more.’

‘Who?’

‘I never pronounce his name.’

‘Peter Plogojowitz?’

Josselin nodded.

‘In Highgate. Finished. His line’s died out now. Go and see for yourself – the tree will die on Highgate Hill. And the tree roots around his tomb in Kiseljevo, they’ll die too.’

‘What about Pierre Vaudel’s son. Isn’t he a Plogojowitz too? Why did you let him live?’

‘He’s just an ordinary man. He wasn’t born with teeth. Cursed blood doesn’t run in all the branches.’

Adamsberg straightened up, but the doctor caught him by the sleeve.

‘Go and see, Adamsberg,’ he begged. ‘You know. You’ll understand. I need to know.’

‘See what?’

‘The tree on Highgate Hill. On the south side of the chapel, a big oak tree that was planted in the year of his birth, in 1663.’

Go and see the tree? Obey the demented wishes of a Paole? With his idea that Plogojowitz was in the tree, like the uncle in the polar bear?

‘Josselin, you’ve cut the feet off nine corpses, you’ve massacred five human beings, you locked me into that vault of hell, you’ve manipulated my son, and you were about to kill him.’

‘Yes, yes, I know. But just go and see the tree.’

Adamsberg shook his head in disgust or lassitude, stood up and gestured to the paramedics to take him away.

‘What is he talking about?’ asked Madame Bourlant. ‘Family problems?’

‘That’s exactly right. Where did you shoot from?’

‘Through the hole in the wall.’ Madame Bourlant took him into the corridor with her little steps. Behind an engraving, the thin partition wall had been pierced by a hole about three centimetres across, giving on to the piano room between two tapestries.

‘This was Emile’s lookout post. Since Monsieur Vaudel always left all the lights on, you were never sure if he’d gone to bed or not. Emile could look through the hole and see if he had left the desk. Emile, you know, used to pinch the odd banknote. Vaudel was rolling in money.’

‘How did you know all that?’

‘Oh, Emile and I got on all right. I was the only person round here who didn’t give him the cold shoulder. We had our little secrets.’

‘Like the revolver.’

‘No, that was my husband’s. Oh my goodness, I’m still shaking. Shooting a man, that’s not something you do every day. I was aiming low, but it jumped up. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to shoot, I just came to see what was happening. And then, well, your police weren’t arriving, so it looked to me as if you’d had it, monsieur, so I thought I should do something.’

Adamsberg agreed. Yes. He would absolutely have had it. It was only twenty minutes since he had crept into the bathroom. A ferocious hunger suddenly made his stomach rumble.

‘If you’re looking for the young man,’ added the little old woman, trotting off to the cellar again, ‘he’s in my living room, trying to do something about his hands.’

XLVI

DANGLARD’S TEAM WAS FOLLOWING THE AMBULANCE, WHILE Voisenet’s was conducting the inquiry in the Vaudel house. Adamsberg had found Zerk sitting in the next-door living room, looking just as intimidated as he had when faced with Paole, and surrounded by four armed police officers. His hands were swathed in thick bandages, which Madame Bourlant had fastened with safety pins.

‘I’ll look after this one myself,’ said Adamsberg, hauling Zerk to his feet by one arm. ‘Madame Bourlant, have you got any painkillers?’

He made the young man take a couple of pills, and shoved him out towards his car.

‘Put your seat belt on.’

‘Can’t,’ said Zerk, holding up his bandaged hands. Adamsberg nodded, pulled across the seat belt and fastened it. Zerk sat passively wordless, shattered, as if deprived of sense. Adamsberg drove in silence. It was about five in the morning and almost light. He wasn’t sure what to do. He could follow the rules technically, or face what he had to head-on. A third solution, the kind Danglard would always whisper to him, was to steer matters to a compromise, elegantly, English fashion. But that kind of elegance wasn’t in his make-up. Feeling drained and vaguely discouraged, he just drove on without thinking. What did it matter, to have it out or not? What was the point? He could just let Zerk go off and live his life, without taking any further notice of him. Or he could drive to the end of the world without saying a word. Or he could leave him there. Clumsily, with his bandaged hands, Zerk had managed to take out a cigarette. But he couldn’t light it. Adamsberg sighed, pressed the cigarette lighter and handed it to him. Then he picked up the second mobile. Weill was calling.

‘Did I wake you, commissaire?’

‘I haven’t been to bed.’

‘Neither have I. Nolet has found the witness, a man who was in school with Francoise Chevron and Emma Carnot. He got Carnot surrounded half an hour ago. She was armed and on her way in person to her school friend’s apartment.’

‘There are some nights like that, Weill, when hunger stalks the world. Arnold Paole was arrested an hour ago. It was Dr Paul de Josselin. He was about to kill Zerk at the house in Garches.’

‘Any damage?’

‘Zerk’s hands are badly cut, Josselin’s in hospital in Garches with a bullet in his gut. Not life-threatening.’

‘Did you shoot him?’

‘No. The woman next door did. She’s sixty years old, five foot nothing, weighs a handful of kilos and had a.32.’

‘Where’s the young man now?’

‘With me.’

‘Are you bringing him back?’

‘Sort of. He can’t use his hands yet, so he’ll need some help. Tell Nolet to seal off Francoise Chevron’s house, they’ll try everything they can to get Emma Carnot out of the mess she’s in and keep it pinned on Chevron’s husband. And tell them to keep Carnot incommunicado for forty-eight hours. No statement to the press, not a word. The girl will be in court tomorrow. I don’t want Mordent to have been eaten alive for nothing.’

‘Naturally.’