I have to get back to Paris.’
Massin watched him turn away, feeling his control of the situation beginning to fade. Maybe he’d made a horrendous mistake after all. Maybe Saint-Cloud hadn’t known, left out of the loop by his boss and principal. But that didn’t make sense. He forced himself to try one last thing.
‘You have a map in your office. It’s in the drawer of the cabinet and Pont Noir is clearly marked. I saw it just now.’
Saint-Cloud shrugged without turning back. ‘Rocco must have put it there in an effort to place any suspicions elsewhere.’
‘Really. So if I contact Paul Comiti, who I’m sure was in the president’s car today, he will tell me that this visit was completely unknown … even to you?’
The mention of the chief of the bodyguard quartet that accompanied de Gaulle every step he took seemed to have a paralysing effect on Saint-Cloud. He stopped dead, shoulders stiffening. His head dropped, and he turned round to face Massin and walked back.
He was now holding a gun.
‘You loathsome little cretin!’ he shouted. ‘How dare you question me!’ His eyes flickered as if the light inside was faulty, and his mouth trembled, his lips curling with hatred and rage. ‘Why could you not leave well alone? Imbecile! Do you not see that this country is on the road to hell … that we once had an army which is now being emasculated?’ He threw his head back. ‘Of course, with men like you in charge, what can good people expect?’
Massin nodded, suddenly seeing with great clarity what this had all been about. What was driving Saint-Cloud and others like him. ‘The army? Do you mean the army generally … or the 1st Foreign Parachute Regiment in particular? Is that what this is about – revenge for a disbanded regiment?’
There was a moment when Massin thought he’d gone too far. Saint-Cloud’s finger went white around the trigger and his face appeared to swell with indignation. He tensed, waiting for the arrival of oblivion, and wished he’d taken more decisive action instead of pushing the man like this. After all, who was there here to listen?
But Saint-Cloud hadn’t finished. His voice came out softly. ‘That wasn’t enough? A once proud regiment reduced to ignominy … a regiment that had shed the blood of its officers and men for this country – and for what? To be overrun by foreigners and weaklings and … governed by vainglorious fools. Yes, that’s what this is about, Massin. I would see that vile man dead for what he has done to us!’ He sneered. ‘But how would you know? You’re a failed soldier and a failed country policeman. What would you know of tradition or honour?’
‘Evidently more than you. What about Captain Lamy – was he part of this, too? Another parachute regiment sympathiser?’
‘Lamy?’ Saint-Cloud looked puzzled, then waved a hand. ‘Lamy was an opportunist who blew with the wind. He even thought he could take my job. He knew about my affiliations with past members of the regiment and threatened to tell the authorities. I had to get him out of the way.’
Massin recalled what Santer had told him about the attack at Guignes, and why Lamy had been involved. ‘You set him up. You used his brother and Delarue to get him on board, then fed the group false information about the car. They thought the president was on board because you told them he was. Just to get rid of Lamy.’
‘Prove it.’
‘Put down the gun, Colonel,’ Massin said softly, and raised his own weapon. His hand was shaking, but even he couldn’t miss from here.
But Saint-Cloud moved even quicker, stepping right up to Massin and raising his own gun. He placed it against Massin’s forehead, between his eyes.
As the cold, hard tip of the gun barrel ground into his skin, Massin felt his every nerve screaming at him to move away from what was surely coming. But he couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot. He wondered, was this what real terror was like? Bringing you to a point where you accepted death because you couldn’t do anything else?
Instead, he found his voice and said, ‘Put it down, or I will shoot you.’ And took up the slack in his trigger.
Saint-Cloud laughed out loud, a fine spray of saliva touching Massin’s face. Up close, his eyes looked distanced, somehow, as if seeing things from a long way away, and Massin realised the man had lost his mind. ‘You