The Coldest Case, Martin Walker [famous ebook reader txt] 📗

from Rossillon, who stepped back and gestured to the fireman to go ahead. The sledgehammer swung back once and then again, the fire chief making sure the camera was on him. Then he knocked away the beam holding the ratchet. The great arm swung over once more, the sling whipping its final thrust and one more oyster sack of water sailed off over the hill, spurred on by a new burst of cheers from the volunteers.

‘And if this doesn’t double the number of visitors to Castelnaud this year, I’ll eat my old képi,’ said Prunier.

But that didn’t stop Prunier from taking his turn with the sledgehammer when Rossillon invited him to launch the next sack. Then each member of Rossillon’s team, men and women alike, was granted a turn at firing the trebuchet before the aircraft returned for another dousing. This time it was judged complete. The great fire of Périgord was out.

25

Bruno was about to leave the place d’armes to take the curving track that led downhill when he saw a face he knew. The man was in the uniform of a pompier which was why it took him a moment to recognize him. It was Henri Bazaine.

‘I thought you were a winemaker. I didn’t know you were also a pompier,’ he said. He didn’t offer to shake hands and nor did Henri.

‘I thought you were a cop. I didn’t know you were also a firefighter,’ Henri replied, deadpan. ‘I’ve been a volunteer in the Bergerac brigade for twenty years and I’ve never known a night like this.’

A beat, as Bruno considered whether or not to speak out.

‘Not even back at the Clara Zetkin orphanage?’ he asked. ‘I presume that’s where you first learned about wine, making Riesling in the Elbe valley. And by the way, that asthma that kept you out of military service seems to have cleared up.’

Henri did not react. He just continued to look at Bruno with the same, studiedly neutral stare. Bruno wondered if General Lannes had been successful in dissuading the Elysée from accepting the lawyer’s offer of a deal. After the dramas of the night, all that seemed a long time ago.

‘Well, thanks for your work last night, you and all the other volunteers,’ Bruno said.

‘Thanks to you as well. Those catapults put new heart into everyone. Let’s hope the politicians learn the lesson of climate change from this fire, before we have more nights like this,’ Henri replied.

‘I agree with you on that,’ Bruno replied. ‘But don’t get your hopes up. Democracy is a wonderful thing, but politicians don’t tend to win elections by telling people to stop using fossil fuels.’

‘Or to stop flying and eating fast food,’ Henri replied, with the glimmer of a smile. It did not reach his eyes. Bruno decided to forge on.

‘What happened between you and Max?’ he asked. ‘Was it a fight over the Lefort scrapbook?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Henri’s face was impassive once more.

‘Auf wiedersehen,’ said Bruno, as he turned aside and walked on down the hill, wondering whether it was worth telling Prunier of Henri’s presence among the volunteers. Until he heard from Isabelle about the Elysée’s decision, it would make little difference. It was now six in the morning, a new day. Perhaps he’d be able to have breakfast with Alain before getting some sleep.

At the bottom of the hill, where a long line of vehicles was waiting to cross the bridge, the parking area was in chaos as vehicles vied to leave. They needed a traffic cop, Bruno thought, wondering whether he should start sorting out the jam. As he pondered, a gendarme emerged from the crush, blew his whistle and began restoring a modicum of order. Then Bruno saw the fluttering tricolor that indicated the command truck and beyond it the blue of the air force truck. It had not moved. There was nobody in the driver’s compartment so he hammered on the rear door. After a moment, it was opened by a sleepy-eyed stranger in air force blue.

‘I’m looking for Alain,’ he said. ‘He’s my cousin.’

‘You’re Bruno? He went looking for you. He said you were the guy who got those catapults going. So, chapeau, I doff my hat to you, but I’m knackered and I’m going back to sleep.’ The door closed.

Bruno sat on the small step outside the truck door and closed his eyes, thinking how good a coffee would taste just now. And then he caught a strong whiff of the stuff. A young woman holding a tray filled with coffee cups was heading for the command truck.

‘May I buy one?’ he asked, reaching for some change.

‘On the house. Our café would have burned down without you guys,’ she said. ‘Take two, you look like you need them. And we’ll have some croissants in a few minutes.’

As she went into the command truck, Alain emerged from between two other trucks, saw the coffee and said, ‘Is one of those for me?’ Bruno handed over a cup and they hugged each other clumsily, with one arm.

‘Was it really your idea, to use the catapults?’

‘Not really, I just remembered they were up there and thought, hey, that would be worth a try. But you were here at Castelnaud the other day. You would have thought of it. That reminds me, how’s the lovely Rosalie?’

‘Fine when I saw her yesterday morning, before we got called up here.’

‘You’ve chosen well there. All my friends enjoyed meeting you both, so you’ll have a social life ready and waiting when you arrive. But tell me, is this work with the water-dropping aircraft a regular part of what you do?’

‘Not at all,’ Alain replied. ‘There was an emergency call for our help yesterday and even though the aircraft are nominally part of the Service Civique, the flight crew are all ex-air force. They insisted on having our communications systems. They had some problems in Provence a couple of years ago when the cops and pompiers were trying