The Secret Of The Cathars (2011) (30 page)

Philip slowly lowered his hands. “She is back in her bed in the hotel, fast asleep. She has had a tough day, one way and another, so she decided not to accompany me this evening. She said I was nuts to come back up here. I’m afraid it looks as if the woman was right again.”

“
Nuts?” Hebert seemed amused. “You must think I am nuts if you expect me to believe you. Why don’t you call to her to come out now and save us from wasting any more time?”

“
I’ve told you…”

“
Don’t play around, Monsieur Sinclair. You don’t want our friend Montlucon to fire another shot into that narrow corridor, do you? She could easily be killed this time.”

“
All right.” Philip realised he was beaten and called out to her, “Jackie, they’ve guessed you’re there. Come out through the gap into the room. Hold your hands up and shine the torch on your body so they can see that you haven’t got any weapons.”

“
Very sensible.” Hebert smiled as she emerged. “Hello, my dear. It’s a pity we have to meet like this. I’m sure you will have realised by now that it was very foolish of the two of you to come back here tonight. You are obstructing the arrangements we wish to make for removal of these items to a safe place. Now you have presented us with the problem of deciding what we are going to do with you.”

He turned and began to speak to Montlucon.

Jackie moved close to Philip. “Hebert is suggesting they empty one of the large chests and lock us up in that,” she muttered. “But Montlucon is afraid we will escape before they have finished removing the treasure.”

An argument was staring to build up between the two men.

“
Hebert says they can surround us with other chests to prevent us getting out. The ginger-haired thug wants to kill us now. He says we’ll die anyway from suffocation or hunger. His actual words were that dead witnesses don’t tell tales.”

Alain Hebert was waving his arms around, trying to persuade the ginger-haired thug not to kill his two captives but the other man appeared unwilling to agree.

“
Hebert says they’ll be hundreds of kilometres away before we can escape. They can ring the police anonymously from Marseilles in a couple of days and we’ll be released alive but with no information that can help the police in finding them.”

However Montlucon was shaking his head, apparently immovable.

“
Ginger says they don’t have time to mess around. He wants to kill us straight away and get on with the job. He doesn’t want us in the way.” Jackie voice broke. “I don’t like the look of this, Philip.”

The ginger man pushed Hebert to one side and walked towards Philip. He raised his gun and pointed it the Englishman’s face from about three feet away. Looking down the barrel at the intent, piggy eyes of the merciless killer, Philip went cold as he realised his life was about to end.

“
No!” Alain Hebert stepped in front of the gun with his hand held up. “I will not let you kill him like this. I abhor unnecessary violence.”

Without a word Montlucon moved the muzzle of the gun a fraction and fired. There was a frightful explosion and the back of Hebert’s head burst open and spattered Philip and Jackie with the revolting fragments of the blood and brains of the last of the Merovingians. Philip heard a shriek from across the room. He dropped the torch and went into a crouch as Hebert’s dead torso toppled back towards him. His arms went round the man’s waist and, using it as a battering ram, he rushed at Montlucon and knocked the murderer off his feet. The ginger man fell on to his back on one of the brass-bound lower chests and the hand holding the gun swung outwards.

Philip was about to leap on the man and wrestle the gun away from him when a pair of muscular arms grabbed him round his upper body, trapping his own arms against his sides. He felt as though he had a broad band of steel across his chest. The great beast of a man, Gustav, lifted him off his feet and he was completely powerless. He drummed his heels against the brute’s lower legs but it had no effect.

Montlucon climbed slowly to his feet, breathing heavily. He approached Philip slowly, an evil expression on his face. He slapped him violently on both cheeks, snapping his head from side to side. He snarled in English, “I kill you. But first I hurt you.”

“
No!” Jackie yelled and started forward, but the weasel ran towards her with a stiletto in his hand and she was forced back.

Philip’s attempts to wriggle free of Gustav’s grip were a waste of effort. Montlucon raised the gun slowly until it was no more than three inches from his mouth. An evil grin crossed his face and he moved the muzzle a fraction to one side. Philip realised the first bullet was going to be aimed so as to smash his right cheek and jaw, so that he wouldn’t die instantly. He knew that would cause him agony. And what would happen with the second shot?

Philip knew real fear then. He felt a weakening in the pit of his stomach and hoped he wouldn’t suffer the additional shame of voiding his bowels. Although he was still held too tightly to struggle, he waggled his head violently to try to avoid the first bullet. Ginger frowned as he tried to place the shot to cause the most pain without killing him.

“
No,” moaned Jackie. “Please, no.”

Then the shot exploded across the room. Philip felt no immediate pain as he watched Montlucon. A surprised expression had come over the man’s as face he looked down at the red blotch which was spreading rapidly across his shirt-front. He leaned back and gazed at the pistol in Cesar Renoir’s hand, no more than six feet away from him.

“
That is for killing my father,” she said.

Then she fired again. This time the bullet hit him straight between the eyes, jerking his head backwards. He toppled gently onto the chest where Philip had earlier knocked him, the gun falling from his nerveless hand on to the floor.

“
And that,” said Cesar expressionlessly, “is for killing my lover.” She lowered the gun.

For a second there was a complete frozen silence. The evil little Mickey recovered first. He spun round and hurled his knife with unerring accuracy at the journalist. With a sickening thud twenty centimetres of razor-sharp steel plunged up to its hilt in her stomach. She dropped the gun and grasped her body round the knife. With a groan she sank to the floor.

Jackie started forward but Mickey pushed her back against the chest. Pierre also ran towards her, then halted as an authoritative voice rang out in French.

“
Nobody move! I have an automatic pistol and I have the licence to use it on anybody who tries to resist.”

Everybody looked towards the door. To Philip’s astonishment it was Armand Sejour who walked into the room from the entrance corridor. He pointed the gun at Gustav.

“
Release the Englishman.” Then, when there was no immediate response. “Release him now, or I will shoot you in the knee.”

The threat was spoken mildly as the young Frenchman advanced, but the brute promptly let Philip go.

“
Now, lie on your face on the floor.” He turned his gun on Mickey. “And you.”

The two crooks hastened to do as they were told. Pierre had gone to care for Cesar, wrapping his jacket round her middle. Armand seemed to trust him enough to half-ignore him.

“
Can I help?” asked Jackie, for once apparently happy to take a supporting role.

Armand handed her his mobile phone. “Can you go outside and ring the police. Tell them there’s been a double murder. That should bring them running. Also we need an ambulance for the journalist. Tell them as well that we have two Mafiosi to take in to custody. Will you remember that?”

“
Of course,” her response held a little of the old acerbity which she might have shown to an assistant who got above himself.

However Armand appeared unaware of it. “I see you have a torch. Good.” He pointed to the entrance corridor. “If you go out through the main door, you’ll find the path down to the road is rough and newly cut, but you shouldn’t have any problems, using your torch. Will you go down there and wait for them to arrive and show them up here?”

She nodded and left without a further word.

Meanwhile Philip had been trying to wipe off the filthy remains of the contents of Alain Hebert’s skull.

“
Now,” said Armand to him, “I will tell you how to truss up these two thugs to prepare to hand them over to the police.”

Without questioning his authority, Philip found himself spending the next quarter of an hour strapping the men’s wrists behind them with their belts. Then he had to cut some lengths off the rope and hogtie their ankles so that they would only be able to walk with short steps, making it impossible to escape.”

“
Will they be able to walk down the path like this?” asked Philip.

Armand shrugged. “They will fall down a lot, but will anybody worry about that?”

“
I suppose not.”

He grinned for the first time. “Now we wait for the police.”

“
What about Cesar Renoir?”

“
The journalist?” He seemed to remember her for the first time. “I don’t know anything about repairing wounds, do you?”

“
Not much.”

“
Well, you go and see what you can do to help the other guy. I’ll keep watch on these two.”

Philip went over and knelt down beside the woman. She still had the knife hilt protruding from her stomach. Her face was a ghastly white but she was still conscious.

“
We’ve gone to call for an ambulance. How are you feeling?”

She smiled wanly. “I seem to have gone numb down there. I think I’ll just stay as still as I can.”

“
She has lost much blood,” said the man.

“
This is Pierre.” She introduced him. “He was one of the men who stayed loyal to my father when Montlucon tried to take over. It was Pierre who told me, while we were cutting the path, that they killed my father two days ago.”

“
Are you sure you should be talking?”

“
It’s all right. Talking doesn’t affect my stomach and there are some things I need to say to you in case I can’t say them later.” She paused for breath. “First you must say sorry to Mademoiselle Blontard. I was responsible for the death of her assistant.”

“
Andre Jolyon?”

“
That’s right. I didn’t do it myself, but I was the one who told Gustav and Mickey where his room was at the hotel.”

“
What happened?”

“
They got into his room while he was at dinner. When he returned they knocked him unconscious. Then they waited until everyone was asleep and carried him up to the castle and threw him off the cliffs to make it look like an accident.” She shook her head slightly. “But I never thought they’d fool the forensic scientists.”

“
Why did they do it?”

“
It was one of Montlucon’s clumsy schemes to try and get the excavations stopped. Alain had warned them that the dig was getting close to the treasure. Of course it didn’t work.”

Philip suddenly had an idea. “Did he then decide to put in Lerenard to take over and muck up everything?”

“
Lerenard?” Her look was puzzled. “I know nothing about any Lerenard.”

“
Oh. So he’s nothing to do with these guys.”

“
Not as far as I’m aware.”

Philip got to his feet, confused by all the different people involved. He wanted to discuss it with Jackie but he knew that would have to wait for an opportunity to do that.

Faintly floating through the corridor came the sound of the first police siren. Now somebody else would take over. Now there would be questions, interviews, hours of sitting waiting to be released from the cross-examination.

- 30 -

“
At least Sergeant Leblanc had to take us seriously this time,” said Philip as they drove to Prouille the next morning.

Jackie laughed. “I don’t think the good sergeant has ever had to cope with such a lot of problems at one time in his life before.”

“
That’s right. Two more dead bodies; one seriously injured in hospital; three crooks in jail; and a room-full of priceless treasure to look after. The poor chap can’t know which way to turn.”

“
On top of that,” she pointed out, “there’s apparently a big row building up over who actually
owns
the treasure in that underground room.”

“
Is that right?”

“
So the mayor told me. Some shadowy organisation based in Paris is lobbying the government, telling them that they have recorded proof that the stuff belongs to them.”

A full night’s sleep and a late start had enabled them both to get over the shock of nearly being killed the night before. When they had got back to the hotel some time after midnight they had immediately stripped off the clothes which still carried the smell and some of the remains of Alain Hebert’s death and had stuffed them in a dustbin liner for burning. They had then showered carefully, washing every little last vestige from their bodies and their hair, before they had collapsed into bed.

Now they felt fit to face the world and get on with the business of understanding the little they had been left of the secret documents of the Cathar heresy. But of course their minds still dwelt on the fantastic experiences of the previous evening.

“
The real hero was Armand,” said Philip. “I must admit I’d thought of him before as being a bit inexperienced, especially when he seemed grateful to be given a chance to dig trenches in out of the way corners of the castle. Now he comes through like a mixture of James Bond and Inspector Maigret.”

Jackie wagged a finger at him. “We must both be very grateful to him. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t turned up. There was the ginger-haired guy’s gun lying on the floor and that little weasel was free to pick it up. I don’t think we would have lasted long.”