This Night’s Foul Work

one on the left. Get a move on, for Christ’s sake, and call Retancourt.’

‘Froissy’s cupboard’s locked, commissaire.’

‘Get the spare key from my drawer, for God’s sake,’ cried Adamsberg, as he ran downstairs.

‘Right,’ said Danglard.

There was a phone tap, there was a hold-up, and as he hurriedly pulled on his shirt Danglard trembled, as he understood why. Twenty minutes later, he was switching on the receiver, kneeling in front of Froissy’s cupboard. He heard running footsteps as Adamsberg arrived behind him.

‘Where are they now?’ the commissaire asked. ‘Have they left the house?’

‘No, not yet. Veyrenc’s deliberately taking his time getting dressed and finding his car keys.’

‘They’re taking his car?’

‘Yes. He’s found the keys now, the men were getting -’

‘Shut up, Danglard.’

The two men knelt down and leaned to listen to the transmitter.

‘No, sonny, just leave your mobile here. Think we’re stupid?’

‘They’ve ditched the mobile,’ said Danglard. ‘We’ll lose their signal now.’

‘Switch on that other mike.’

‘What other mike?’

‘The one for the car, dammit! And switch on the screen – we’ll be able to follow them with the GPS.’

‘Nothing showing. They must be between the flat and the car.’

‘Mordent?’ Adamsberg was calling. ‘They’re down in the street outside his house.’

‘We’re only just getting to the corner of the street, sir.’

‘Shit.’

‘There was an accident at Bastille and a big tailback. We put on the siren but it was chaos.’

‘Mordent, they’re going to take him in his car. You’re going to follow them via the GPS.’

‘But I don’t have his wavelength.’

‘No, but I do. I’ll guide you. Keep the line open. Which car are you in?’

‘The BEN 99.’

‘I’ll send you the sound through your radio.’

‘What sound?’

‘Their conversation inside the car.’

‘Right.’

‘There they are,’ whispered Danglard, ‘They’re moving off now, east towards the rue de Belleville.’

‘I can hear them,’ said Mordent.

‘And not a peep out of you, you little shit. Put your seat belt on, and keep both hands on the wheel. Go to the ring road. We’re going out to the suburbs – you’ll like that, won’t you?’

‘Not a peep out of you, you little shit.’ Adamsberg recognised this sentence. From a long time ago, in a high meadow. He clenched his teeth and gripped Danglard’s shoulder.

‘Sweet Jesus, capitaine, they’re going to kill him.’

‘Who is?’

‘Them. The Caldhez gang.’

‘Step on it, Veyrenc, faster’n that! It’s a cop car isn’t it, motherfucker? You can go fast as you like! Put the lights and siren on so they get out of our fucking way.’

‘How do you know who I am?’

‘Don’t try to be smart, motherfucker, we’re not going to fuck about all night.’

‘Motherfucker, fucking, that’s all they can say,’ groaned Danglard, sweating profusely.

‘Shut up, Danglard. Mordent, they’re on the ring road, heading north. They’ve got the lights flashing, you should be able to spot them.’

‘I can hear the siren, yeah.’

‘… Fernand and Big Georges. Remember now? Or did you forget you bumped them off?’

‘I’m just remembering.’

‘Took your time, didn’t you? Need us to remind you who we are now?’

‘No. You’ve got to be the other little bastards from Caldhez. Roland and Pierrot. But anyway, I didn’t kill those other pieces of shit. Your Fernand and Big Georges.’

‘You won’t get out of it like that, Veyrenc. We told you we weren’t going to fuck about. Straight on, we’re going to Saint-Denis. You bumped them off, and Roland and me, we’re not going to twiddle our fucking thumbs waiting for you to come after us.’

‘I told you, I did not kill them.’

‘Shut your face. We’ve got ways of knowing, don’t try and tell me different. Turn right here and shut the fuck up.’

‘Mordent, they’re going past the cathedral in Saint-Denis.’

‘We’re just reaching it now.’

‘Keep north, Mordent, north.’

Adamsberg, still on his knees in front of the receiver, was pressing his fist against his lips, pushing at his teeth.

‘We’ll get them,’ said Danglard mechanically.

‘They’re fast workers, capitaine. They can kill without even noticing it. Shit, now due west, Mordent. They’re going towards those big building sites.’

‘OK, commissaire, I can see their lights. They’re about two hundred and fifty metres ahead.’

‘Get ready – they’re probably going to drag him on to some building site. Once they’re out of the car I won’t be able to hear them.’

Adamsberg pressed his fist against his mouth again.

‘Danglard, where’s Retancourt?’

‘Don’t know, she wasn’t at home.’

‘I’m going to Saint-Denis. Keep track of the GPS and switch it to my car.’

Adamsberg ran out of the building, while Danglard tried to stretch his aching knees. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he limped to a chair and pulled it over towards the little cupboard. A pulse was beating in his temples, giving him a piercing headache. He was going to be responsible for Veyrenc’s death, just as surely as if he had pulled the trigger. It was he who had taken the decision, on his own initiative, to warn Roland and Pierrot to be on guard, telling them that their two friends had been killed. He hadn’t mentioned Veyrenc’s name, but even people of their limited intelligence wouldn’t take long to put two and two together. Not for a moment had Danglard imagined that they would take the risk of going for Veyrenc. The real idiot was him, Danglard. And he was the real bastard, too. Contemptible jealousy at being ousted had driven him to a lethal decision, taken without foreseeing the consequences. Danglard jumped as he saw the luminous dot on the screen come to a stop.

‘Mordent, they’ve stopped. Rue des Ecrouelles, about halfway along. They’re still in the car. Don’t show yourself.’

‘We’re forty metres behind. We’ll do the rest on foot.’

‘It’s not going to hurt you one little bit. Pierrot, wipe the prints off the car. Nobody’ll know what the fuck you were doing out at Saint-Denis, nobody’ll know why you died on a building site. And that’ll be the last we hear of you, Veyrenc, and your fucking hair. And if you make a sound, it’s quite simple – you’re dead sooner.’

Adamsberg was driving at top speed, sirens screaming, along the almost empty ring road. Oh God, please let him… For pity’s sake. He didn’t believe in God. OK, the third virgin, then, the one he did believe in. Please get Veyrenc out of this alive. Please, please. It must have been Danglard, Christ Almighty, there couldn’t be any other explanation. Danglard, who had thought he had to go and warn the other two in the Caldhez gang, to protect them. Without telling him. Without knowing what they were capable of. He, Adamsberg, would have been able to tell him that Roland and Pierrot were not the sort to sit and wait for someone to threaten them. They were bound to react immediately and blindly.