The Statement (9 page)

‘Let me give you some advice, Monsignor. Your efforts on your friend’s behalf have been admirable. But, in my view, he has stepped over the line. He will now be wanted for murder, not a murder of forty years ago, but one committed last week. If he’s arrested, he could be tried for the murder. And I doubt, given the present state of public opinion, that his plea of self-defence would be accepted. He’s on the run now, he’s probably frightened as never before. I think this is the moment for you to stay out of it. Pray for him. That’s all you can do. And one last thing, my friend. Remember, you made me a promise never to mention my name in connection with these events?’

‘Of course. That’s understood. And I’m very grateful for the help you gave us in the past.’

‘I told you never to mention that help. Not even to me.’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’

‘Remember, Monsignor. You’re a man of your word. I expect you to keep it.’

‘I will, sir.’

‘Good-night, then.’

‘Good-night.’

7

Shit! A big truck pulled alongside the little Peugeot, almost banging into it as the truck rushed ahead, moving into the lane in front. Night driving, he couldn’t do it any more, he had hoped to get as far as Montpellier, but now he saw a sign:
Béziers
. It would have to be Béziers. The truck’s red tail lights disappeared round a bend in the road. He slowed his speed to 90 kilometres. Don’t panic. Don’t panic!

Is it possible to tell everything you did to a priest in the confessional and yet be telling lies? If God Himself were to ask me now what I felt back then, what I felt at the cemetery wall in Dombey, what I felt when we threw the bomb into the synagogue on Rue Daumier, would I lie to God Himself? Would I say I felt I was doing my duty? And what
did
I feel? What did I feel when I went down to Room 410 and saw Le Grange pushing their heads under the water in the bath? We needed information. He said this was the way to get it. What did I feel when I received the train orders and stood in the station supervising the loading? Those faces staring out at me from the open freight-car doors. I looked away. They were going to die. I was afraid of them. They saw me, they knew. Some day, in some afterlife, they would point me out. That’s him. Brossard. He did it. He killed us.

The sign ahead said:
BÉZIERS. 10 Kilometres.

Ego te absolvo. Am I really absolved, am I really cleansed, am I free to enter heaven? I don’t know. My whole life has been an imposture. I’m lying, even when I think I’m telling the truth. Yet, in these last years, I
want
to tell the truth to someone. If I can tell it to a priest in confession, I feel better, I feel hope, if not in this world, then in the next. Confession is my insurance. My heart is bad. I could drop dead tomorrow. I
need
absolution. If God forgives me then I don’t give a damn about this world. I’m finished with this world. The proof is, I put my neck in danger by driving all the way to Caunes to hear those words from a priest. I could have gone directly to Aix and been safe in my bed tonight instead of out on this road, my bones aching, driving half blind, afraid as I never was in the days when I was just small fry, one of hundreds of
collabos
sentenced to death
in absentia
. Now, I’m a
cause célèbre
, my name in the papers, people have seen that photo of me when I was twenty-six, someone might have an epiphany in the street and shout out, ‘Eureka, it’s Brossard!’ And now they’ve got this new judge, Livi, Italian name, they say, but that’s not true. It’s Levy. Anyway, she’s given me over to the gendarmerie. They’re not like the police. Darnand always said don’t trust the gendarmes, they hate us, they turned their backs on the Maréchal from Day One.

Think of it. Back in those days, I could have had false emigration papers, straight from the Vatican, that Yugoslav bishop at the Holy See told Monsignor Le Moyne it would be no trouble at all. But I said no. I didn’t want to be like Barbie in some South American backwater, peddling his arse as a secret policeman for a cheap little South American dictator, speaking Spanish, eating that greasy
métèque
food. I love France, it’s my country, they’re not going to drive me out of my own country. I’m French, I’ll die in France!

Béziers. No one in the world knows I’m here tonight. Tomorrow I’ll be in Aix. Maybe they’ll know that. Maybe they’ll send another Jew to kill me. How did they know I was in Salon? Who told them? Help me, God? Help me!

BÉZIERS. Next Exit
.

8

César bounded up the steep flight of stairs, pulling her after him, straining on the lead as she fumbled for her keys. When she went into the apartment, her housekeeper, Madame Deferre, came out of the kitchen and whispered, ‘Your visitor is here, Madame.’

She went into the sitting room, having first handed over César’s lead. A young man stood up at once, with a slight, shy, bow.

‘I’m Annemarie Livi. How do you do? Very good of you to come.’

They shook hands. ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she told him. ‘I had to deliver my son to his school in Neuilly. There was some sort of delay on the Métro.’

‘That’s all right, Madame. I’ve just arrived.’

He was younger than she had imagined him to be, tall with reddish hair and a small, rather foolish moustache. She liked him at once.

‘Professor, thank you very much for agreeing to see me. I read your dossier on Monsignor Le Moyne. I think it could be a great help to us. Would you like some coffee?’

‘No, thank you.’

They sat down, facing each other. Suddenly, she felt no further need of formalities. ‘Professor Valentin, first, let me say I know it’s irregular, my asking to meet you. Tell me. The members of your commission, are they all historians?’

‘Yes. Eight of us.’

‘All laymen?’

‘Except one. Monsignor Flandin. He’s Secretary of the Ecclesiastical Committee for Relations with Judaism. He represents the Archbishop.’

‘And when do you think you’ll finish your investigation?’

‘That’s the problem, Madame. It may take a year or more.’

‘Why so long?’

‘We’re trying to investigate forty years of delays and concealments. We’re tracking down Brossard’s contacts with all sorts of people in the Church. Even though there are eight of us, it’s a slow process. And that’s a pity. Because, in the meantime, the public is convinced that the Church is the only culprit in hiding him.’

She felt a small skip of excitement. But still, he’s part of a Church commission. If he’s working for the Cardinal, he’ll try to shift the blame.

‘So, you believe that Brossard may have other protectors?’

‘Indeed, Madame. Powerful ones.’

‘Government?’

‘I’m guessing at all of this. I have no real proof. But I would say, possibly, the police up to the level of Prefect. Even the Elysée Palace seems to have been involved, under two different presidencies.’

‘And what about your colleagues on the commission? Do they agree with you?’

‘As far as I know, yes. We’re each following different avenues of investigation, but in our first meetings we’re very much agreed that there must have been other protectors. The trouble is, our commission was set up to investigate the Church’s involvement and only that. My colleagues are not interested in pursuing these other links.’

‘But you are?’

‘I want
you
to pursue them, Madame. I don’t have the means or the authority to do anything about it.’

‘But may I be completely honest, Professor? Surely, it’s in the Church’s interest for your commission to exonerate these ecclesiastics who have helped Brossard over the years. And what better way than to shift part of the blame back to the civil authority?’

She saw him stiffen in his chair. Then, surprisingly, he smiled. ‘Of course. But let me tell you something, Madame. The members of our commission are historians, not Church apologists. Scholars like Professor Proulx or Dr  Multon wouldn’t have accepted this assignment if it were a cover-up. Besides, Madame, I feel that Cardinal Delavigne is sincere when he says he set up the investigation because he believes a wrong that is brought out into the open is preferable to a declaration of innocence, which is suspect.’

‘I agree. The Cardinal’s actions during the Occupation and afterwards show that he was totally anti-Nazi and on the side of the Resistance. But he’s a son of the Church. And, as you know, the Vatican’s record is murky in this regard. I’m talking of its attitude to the Germans during the war and immediately afterwards.’

‘The post-war Vatican passports issued to Nazis to help them escape to South America?’

‘Yes.’

‘All true. But remember, the Church is not monolithic, particularly in France. Religious orders such as the Jesuits, the Dominicans, the Cistercians, et cetera, are a law unto themselves. Abbots and priors have a great deal of autonomy in their own monasteries. They can decide to help someone like Brossard, feeding him, lodging him and giving him money to live on, without having to ask permission, or even inform the local bishop or the hierarchy. In addition there’s the medieval tradition of a churchly authority that puts itself above the laws of men. It’s that sort of arrogance, I’m sure, that many of the priests who helped Brossard used to ease their conscience and flout the law. But in my researches, so far, I see no overall plan to hide Brossard. I mean, no plan coming down from the French hierarchy, let alone the Vatican.’

‘But there’s a plan somewhere. That’s what interests me.’

He leaned forward in his chair, his face filled with conviction.

‘Madame, that’s what you must find out. Think of it. How did Brossard manage to escape from the hands of the police in the Rue des Saussaies back in 1945 when he was arrested and charged as a war criminal? How did he manage to stay in hiding from the late forties until now? The least one can say is that the police didn’t search very diligently in order to find him. And how was it that in the sixties he managed to obtain a false identification card in the name of Pouliot, using as his address the address of the archbishopric in Lyon?’

‘Is that true?’

‘Yes. And, what’s more, when it was discovered that the false address was the address of the archbishopric, the Prefect in Savoie received instructions from Paris to let the matter drop.’

‘That could have been Church pressure.’

‘Possibly. But then we come to the astonishing presidential pardon in 1971. If
Le Monde
hadn’t got wind of it and broken the story, Brossard would be a free man today, a small fish, forgotten. And so, this new charge of a crime against humanity might never have come up. It’s this charge which for the first time is being levelled at Frenchmen, not Germans, that’s worrying certain people. You know who I’m talking about. Three other Frenchmen are similarly charged but have never been brought to trial. But if Brossard is caught and tried, their trials can’t be put off any longer. So, to sum up, Madame, I don’t believe that the Church alone had the power to help Brossard escape the police and the courts over a forty-year period.’

‘But the public believes it.’

‘Yes. And unless we find Brossard, they’ll continue to believe it. And that simplification of events, that falsification of the truth, will become a part of French history.’

‘And will that be so terrible, Professor? I mean, to those of us who are not historians?’

‘The study of history is not so different from the practice of the law, Madame. The primary aim of both is to discover the truth of events, isn’t it?’

‘Mine was a foolish remark,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. Of course, I agree with you. And it’s only now, in 1989, that little judges like me have come to realize that we can indict the Establishment. One thing puzzles me in all of this. If you believe that the Church isn’t Brossard’s only protector, why did you send me the Le Moyne dossier?’

‘Because the Church is still hiding him. So you’ve got to find him through that network of concealment. I sent it because I noticed something in it which may be the key to tracking Brossard down. The Chevaliers.’

‘Sorry?’

‘In some of the letters written by Monsignor Le Moyne, there’s mention of a group of right-wing Catholic activists called the Chevaliers de Ste Marie. In one letter, which I marked, Le Moyne says Brossard was made a Chevalier in this Order and that the Order is helping him financially.’

‘I see. Do you know Colonel Roux?’

‘No.’

‘He’s conducting the investigation. I’ll contact him at once.’

‘Good.’

The telephone rang in the hall. She heard Madame Deferre go to answer it. At once, the young man stood up. ‘I must leave now, Madame.’

‘No, no, please.’ She stood up. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

He held out his hand. ‘I really must.’

‘Telephone, Madame.’

‘One moment.’ She led him to the door. César bounded out of the kitchen, tail wagging. The young man patted the dog’s head and said, ‘The Chevaliers aren’t a schismatic group. But they have links to those traditionalist priests who have recently broken with Rome. To the former Archbishop of Dakar.’