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

to direct them. That’s why we have a pilot in our truck as ground controller. I’m just running the electronics. But we haven’t stopped. We were dropping water in the Landes yesterday and near Nérac before that.’

‘Well, thanks for helping put our fire out. You should have called to say you’d arrived.’

‘I had no idea where we were last night when we got here. We were just told to load up and get going so the aircraft could start dropping as soon as it was light.’

Bruno grinned. ‘That sounds like the military I remember. But can’t the planes operate in the dark?’

‘They could but they have to fly quite low to get a concentrated drop and in hilly country like this in the dark, it’s just too risky.’

Alain turned as his name was shouted from the truck and someone in air force uniform beckoned him to come back. ‘Here we go again, off somewhere new.’ He handed the coffee cup to Bruno.

‘Give Rosalie my best regards.’ They shook hands and as soon as Alain climbed into the back of the truck its engine started, and with a peep of the horn it headed for the bridge. Bruno watched it go and then went to the command truck to say he was signing off and going home for some sleep. He found Prunier there, being interviewed by Phillipe Delaron for Sud Ouest.

‘This is the guy you should be talking to,’ Prunier said to Phillipe. ‘It was Bruno’s idea to use the gabarres to evacuate people and he was also the one who told me we should try the catapults.’

‘Is that right?’ Phillipe asked, turning to Bruno.

‘A lot of people were coming up with different ideas,’ Bruno replied. ‘In the military you learn to combine your arms, air power, infantry, armour and artillery. We had the fire trucks, the pompiers and volunteers as our infantry and we knew the air power would be coming once it was light. What we didn’t have was artillery – and that was the gap the catapults could fill. When we realized just how fast the fire was moving we were desperate enough to try anything. The important thing now is to make sure we learn from this, to make proper plans and run exercises to get everybody accustomed to working together.’

‘That’s exactly what I told the fire chief,’ Prunier said, turning back to Philippe. ‘We’re forming a working group to draw up recommendations and I want Bruno to be on it.’

After taking some more photos, Phillipe went to interview Rossillon and Bruno asked Prunier, ‘Any news from J-J about Henri Bazaine? I just ran into him; he’s one of the volunteer pompiers from Bergerac.’

‘Really? So he can’t be all bad. No, I haven’t heard from J-J since yesterday. And we found no trace of his taking a train or autoroute to Paris. Now I’m going home to get some sleep and drop off this filthy uniform at the dry cleaner. You should do the same. Do you know you smell of pee?’

‘It’s from one of the evacuees, a little old lady I had to carry who must’ve been incontinent. I’ve been smelling it all night.’

Bruno went home, fed his chickens, stripped off, climbed into the shower then turned off his phone and went to bed. He woke in the early afternoon, made coffee and had another shower before turning his phone back on. He had almost a dozen messages, two from the Mayor, three from the local radio station, two from J-J, one from Sabine, another from Rossillon and two from Isabelle. He called her first.

‘I saw you on TV breakfast news with those medieval war machines,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I ever saw you looking quite so filthy.’

‘I stank even worse,’ he said. ‘Any news from the Elysée about Bazaine?’

‘Yes, against our advice, they’re going ahead with the deal. Bazaine gets immunity and in return the Elysée gets the Rosenholz stuff.’ She then paused and the silence lengthened and then lengthened some more.

‘Ah,’ said Bruno, starting to understand. ‘Once they have it, have the wonder boys in the Elysée promised to pass it on to you and our counter-espionage people?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘You mean they’re going to keep it?’ Bruno said, in disbelief.

‘Knowledge is power,’ she replied. ‘To be fair, they don’t want a witch-hunt. I understand that and to an extent I sympathize with that point of view. But . . .’ She paused again.

‘But you’re still a cop at heart,’ said Bruno. ‘And you don’t want Bazaine getting away with murder.’

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘But I have an idea. What are you up to this weekend?’

‘If you’re thinking of coming here, we can take Balzac to visit his puppies.’

‘I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,’ she said. ‘Well, almost anything. But part of this trip might be official, depending on some meetings I have to arrange. I should be able to confirm sometime tomorrow.’

‘Wonderful,’ he said. Then he ignored the calls from the radio station and rang the Mayor.

‘I just called to congratulate you,’ the Mayor said. ‘I think half the town saw the morning news on TV with you and the trebuchet.’

‘Good for you. Everybody else is calling it a catapult.’

‘And you seem to have a new fan in my esteemed colleague, the Madame Maire of Envaux. She said on TV that you were the one who arranged the gabarres to evacuate people.’

‘Everybody is being very kind but the truth is we mishandled the situation,’ Bruno said. ‘We misjudged the speed of the fire. The evacuation routes weren’t arranged in advance. Bridges that were supposed to be closed were left open and there was too little advance planning between the police, the pompiers and the air force. We need to do better next time because I think there’ll be more wildfires like this.’

‘I agree with you,’ said the Mayor.’ And not just here or in Australia or California where we see them on TV, but in more and more places as