Death on the Pont Noir - By Adrian Magson Page 0,51
excuse to sit on a train and do nothing for a while.’
‘Good idea. Santer says you’re working.’
‘Yes. Some regular jobs doing security and a bit of low-level surveillance. Nothing too big yet. But getting there.’ He smiled almost shyly, his demeanour a complete transformation from when Rocco had last seen him. But then, he had been beaten and shot, which tends to make even the strong wilt a little. ‘But this is good.’
‘You still want to get back in?’ Caspar had been suspended on health grounds after the strain of working undercover had become too great. But he’d been desperate to regain his badge ever since, convinced he could still make a contribution.
‘Actually, I’m no longer so sure about that.’
‘Really? What’s changed?’
‘The work. The stuff I do now, it’s got its moments, but there’s no longer the same pressure. There’s some risk, but I can handle it.’ He shrugged. ‘And I’m not kidding myself anymore, you know? I was too near the edge for too long. Problem was, I couldn’t see it.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Anyway, I’ve got a girlfriend now. Christ, I’m almost respectable!’
Moments later, Saint-Cloud came out and climbed in his car. If he noticed Caspar, he gave no indication. Rocco led the way out to the Pont Noir, filling in Caspar on the way, including Bellin’s part in the car’s planned disappearance.
‘I’ll put the word out,’ Caspar said. ‘See what the gossips are saying.’
‘It was just a car – a tool for a job. But I think Bellin was being paid by someone big to get rid of it; someone he’s terrified of.’
‘Someone around here?’
Rocco shook his head. ‘Someone in Paris.’ The capital was full of scary people; people who’d only have to glance at a man like Bellin to throw him into a funk.
Caspar puffed his cheeks. ‘Christ, that narrows it down a bit. But not much.’ He nodded through the windscreen. ‘He looks familiar. Not your boss, is he?’
‘Have you heard of Colonel Saint-Cloud?’
‘What, Big Charles’s bodyguard?’ Caspar looked impressed. ‘That’s him? What’s he doing here – and why you?’
‘I was about to explain that. You’ll be working on his payroll, although I don’t expect you to like him for it.’
‘Great. And as long as I don’t have to throw myself in front of a bullet for him.’
‘I had the same thought.’ He explained where they were going, and Saint-Cloud’s resistance to the idea of an attack site or the method involved.
Caspar caught on fast. He’d been around senior officers and officials enough to know that one always had to be on one’s guard. ‘Right. So it’s eyes and ears to the ground, keep my head down and my mouth shut.’
‘Exactly. Find out anything you can about the attack at Guignes … and whether it’s possible they or another group could be planning a follow-up here. They might be crazy enough to try again just because nobody expects it.’
‘Or someone will try to top it.’ Caspar stared out of the window. ‘Wouldn’t take much, topping failure with a successful hit.’
‘Or that.’
‘So he’s definitely coming?’ Caspar meant de Gaulle.
‘Saint-Cloud seems to think so, but he’s not giving anything away.’ He told him what Blake had said about the private visit.
‘I’ll see what I can find out. I know a few OAS guys with long memories, but they’ve gone quiet since independence. I doubt they’re still active, although they might know people who are. What exactly do you want me to do?’
‘Dig around, see if you can get a line on any groups with contacts out this way. So far I’ve got nothing because Saint-Cloud’s given me nothing. But I don’t want to be handed my head on a plate for not trying, and missing something obvious … something you might be able to dig out instead. Santer will fill you in on the N19 attack, but that ended so badly, I wouldn’t rate them as being ready for another go.’
‘Sounds like it was costly, losing two men for a carload of paperwork.’
Rocco agreed. It still puzzled him that the attackers, which had included a former soldier, had stumbled so badly. Getting imprecise information on a target’s timing or route was always a risk plotters had to juggle with. But getting it so badly wrong had been disastrous on an epic scale. It prompted a thought.
‘You might get Santer to find out the name of the motorcycle escort who fought back. See if you can speak to him.’