Death on the Pont Noir - By Adrian Magson Page 0,50
or by whom.’
The wall clock ticked loudly several times before the colonel said, ‘How could you even know about such a place or the president’s interest in it?’ His face looked tight, and his voice carried a hint of disbelief. ‘Who told you?’
‘I learnt about it earlier this morning. It doesn’t matter who told me.’ Rocco didn’t want Blake to get into trouble, although he couldn’t think why Blake would have told him about it unless it was already known in certain quarters.
‘I think it matters very much. I would like the name, please, Rocco.’
Rocco shook his head. ‘If the information is out there already, Colonel, and I heard about it, then it’s too late to matter. The person who told me is not a threat, I promise you. But ignoring it is.’
More ticks of the clock, then, ‘Very well. You had better show me.’
Rocco led him downstairs to the wall map, and asked Berthier to clear the office and make sure nobody entered. When the door was closed, he explained in brief what he believed would happen, based on having seen the location and the entrance and exit roads, and its uncanny similarity to the site of the ramming. He used his rough-drawn sketch to back this up, then stood back and let Saint-Cloud think it over. What he didn’t mention was Calloway and his colleagues; while all the clues pointed towards their involvement somehow, he still wasn’t sure how a group of Englishmen could be tied in with an assassination attempt on the French head of state. That part still made no sense. Besides, there were other reasons why he didn’t want to set that particular hare running just yet.
The colonel seemed unimpressed. ‘I can see why you would consider this, Inspector. But the president has given no indications to me that he intends going to this Pont Noir, wherever it is. It may well have some historic and social importance to France and other countries, but he has far more important places to visit. In fact, I can show you one where my own experience tells me he is far more vulnerable … and where I have good reason to believe he will go very soon.’ He gave a thin smile. ‘I do have experience of these matters. Ensuring the safety of the President of the Republic is not as straightforward as catching criminals, I assure you.’
Rocco couldn’t understand why Saint-Cloud was being so dismissive. But he was remembering Santer’s warning about watching his back, and his vulnerability should anything go wrong. He’d been assigned to Saint-Cloud to help with the security review, and that was what he was doing. But he was determined not to be fobbed off because of the security chief’s superiority over a police detective. ‘I think you need to see this place for yourself.’
Saint-Cloud looked almost affronted at having his decision questioned. He took a deep breath and said coldly, ‘Are you absolutely certain, Inspector Rocco, that you have not allowed yourself to be influenced by some … disconnected but inexplicable events involving a car and a truck, driven by people you have not yet found? I can see why you would draw the conclusions you have, but this all seems … circumstantial, and frankly, nothing more than cinematic in scope.’
‘Maybe. But it won’t harm to look, will it? And,’ he added dryly, ‘your expertise will soon prove it one way or another.’
It was a challenge Saint-Cloud couldn’t ignore, nor could he dismiss the suggestion of an eyeball inspection. ‘Very well,’ he said stiffly. ‘How long will it take? Only I have a meeting in one hour. I’ll take my own car.’
‘Depends how fast you drive,’ said Rocco. He headed for the door and the rear car park. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you.’ A strong grain of rebellion resisted the courtesy of offering the colonel a lift. Besides, he had a feeling the man would only sneer at Rocco’s Traction and deem it unworthy of a proper policeman.
As he turned along the corridor leading to the back door, leaving Saint-Cloud to get his car keys, he saw Caspar walking towards him, a relaxed grin on his face. They shook hands and Rocco led the former undercover cop outside.
‘Good to see you again,’ he said quickly, unlocking his car. ‘Thanks for coming.’
Caspar looked in good trim, although still gaunt, but less strained than he had previously, less haunted. ‘My pleasure. I needed a change of scenery, anyway. And it gave me an