Martin Walker - The Devil's Cave

‘What are those metal rods you used to pull against the current?’ Bruno had to ask.

‘Telescopic poles, like the ones hikers use, only they’re spring-loaded so we can brace against smooth walls. How tall is that waterfall?’

‘Twelve metres.’ Bruno looked up and saw J-J’s face beaming in the spotlights.

‘That’s OK, we’ve got an expandable ladder,’ said Miko. ‘It’s attached to this rope around my ankle. You know you were almost at the Gouffre when we found you? There’s quite a reception committee and we’ve got a rope running all the way through the river, so just keep a tight hold and you’ll all be fine.’

‘Was anybody hurt in the explosion? What about the girl?’

‘A militia captain got concussed and one of his men has a broken leg. But they’re all going to be OK. The girl should be in hospital already.’

‘Just look at me a moment,’ the doctor said, waving a finger before Bruno’s eyes and checking his pulse. ‘You need warming up and a good rest. Get yourself checked by your own doc in the morning.’

Within minutes, the ladder was in place. Miko and the doctor had climbed into the cave and Fernand had put a breathing mask onto Albert and was leading him into the underground river. Sergeant Jules was the first down the ladder, and once Fernand returned, he led Jules down the river and into the Gouffre.

‘Your turn now,’ said Fernand when he came back.

Bruno shook his head. ‘There’s an overweight and rather older Commissaire of Police up there. I’d like to make sure he gets out safely. Then I think you might need help with the stretcher.’

It was another hour before Bruno hauled himself out of the lake and into the vast and well-lit space of the Gouffre. Some of the light came from TV cameras, and some from the flashes of Philippe Delaron’s camera. The warmth was in the welcome that awaited: the Baron hugging him careless of the soaking water, and then Father Sentout and the Mayor, beaming at him with Balzac squirming in his arms.

The Baron handed him one of the stone beakers from the cave, filled to the brim with cognac. Bruno took a deep draught, and then stripped off as the Baron handed him an enormous towel and led him to a heat-blower someone had erected. Albert and J-J were standing before it as if they never wanted to leave, the folds of their heavy towels blowing back with the force of the hot air. Sergeant Jules was sitting to one side, still enjoying the heated air, but even happier to have his wife beside him.

‘ Putain , you had me worried for a while back there,’ said the Baron, gathering underwear and T-shirt and tracksuits and waiting to help Bruno dress.

Bruno just grinned, feeling the warmth of the towel and the heater and the glow of the cognac. The Baron had been in the army; he knew the unwritten rules. It was good to see him again and to know that none of their recent arguments meant a damn thing.

‘I never doubted that you’d make it out of there,’ said the Mayor, ‘even after they told us it would take weeks to clear the tunnel.’

More members of the rescue team, all in wetsuits, were plunging into the lake to help bring out the stretcher bearing the Count. They pushed Bruno and the others away from the hot-air blower and stood the stretcher before it while the doctor checked the Count again and attached another mobile drip.

‘He’s still with us, just, but I don’t think he’s going to make it. Is the helicopter ready?’ the doctor asked, stripping off his wetsuit. Another member of the rescue team confirmed that it was standing by, rotors turning.

‘Right, get those hot towels around him and we’ll run him out to the chopper.’ Within moments, they had gone. Bruno, J-J and Albert gathered back around the hot air, stone beakers in hand.

‘There’ll have to be an inquiry,’ J-J said. ‘One shot dead and another wounded, maybe dying. You know the procedure. It’ll be a formality but they’ll need all our written statements before Friday.’

‘Whoever runs the inquiry can go back into that cave themselves to look for my gun and the guns of the bastards who tried to kill us,’ said Bruno. ‘I don’t fancy making that swim again anytime soon. And I don’t think there’ll be much of an inquiry with no weapons evidence.’

‘Then they’ll adjourn the inquiry until they can retrieve the weapons,’ said J-J thoughtfully. ‘We could be suspended on full pay for months.’

‘Your new Procureur seemed the type to find a way round that.’

‘If he doesn’t my wife will probably shoot him first and then me,’ J-J said, in that mournful way that usually meant he was joking.

Bruno looked around the cave. There was little damage from the blast except for the Dragon’s Teeth that had guarded the entrance to the tunnel. One of the great pillars had been tossed onto its side, crushing a rack of jugs that were slowly being transformed into stone. Beside it lay Foucher’s body under a blanket, on the spot where the blast of a Gendarme’s shotgun had felled him. Another pillar had rolled half into the lake, crushing a pedal-boat, and the third still stood, a fat, phallic sentinel above a secret underworld that Bruno knew he wanted to start exploring. He’d have to talk to Miko about joining a cave exploration club.

But right now he wanted to go home, to feed his chickens and ride his horse and walk his dog and then to have a bowl of soup and sleep the clock round. He put down the towel and dressed in the garments the Baron had brought. As if it were a signal, the Mayor came forward and steered him to one of the TV cameras where he submitted to a brief interview on the dramas of the day.

‘Home?’ asked the Baron. Balzac was tucked into the crook of his arm and he handed the puppy to Bruno. ‘Dinner’s on me if you want it, but you look like you need some sleep. You’ll find quite a welcome outside.’

‘Home,’ Bruno agreed, relishing the soft rasp of Balzac’s tongue on his ear. He braced himself for whatever awaited in the open air. At first, he just stood and looked at the sky, amazed that it was still light, even more amazed at how blue it was. The evening sunlight looked unbelievably fresh and perfect after his hours underground. Then he saw the beaming faces and heard the welcoming shouts of his friends and neighbours. He shook hands and kissed cheeks all the way back to the Baron’s car. He paused to kneel down and kiss Florence’s twins, and then their mother, accepting an invitation to dinner the following evening.

He’d just got his hand on the door of the Baron’s lovely old Citroen DS when he heard Ahmed calling his name and hurrying his way through the crowd.

‘We’ve got a call-out and it sounds like your place,’ he said, his mouth to Bruno’s ear and his voice low. ‘Maybe you’d better not go back until I get confirmation. I’ve got an engine on its way, should be there by now.’

‘You mean a fire? At my place?’ Bruno asked, seeing the answer in Ahmed’s eyes. He jumped into the car and told the Baron to drive like the wind, wondering how and why but already suspecting he knew the answer. He held Balzac tightly to him as he heard the sound of the siren behind him. Ahmed was following in the little command car. He turned to face forward, thinking of the house he’d built with his own hands, of his ducks and chickens and the garden he’d made, of the wine in the cellar and his books on the shelves.

There were two fire engines at work when he arrived but only one was still jetting water onto the roof of the house. There were black scorch marks around the broken windows of the living room and kitchen and the entrance door had gone. His ducks and chickens were all right. The barn and his bedrooms had been spared.

‘It could be a lot worse. We were lucky somebody saw smoke from the road and called it in,’ said Ahmed, coming to stand at his shoulder. Raymond was with him, the crew captain of the second fire engine. ‘It was just the curtains in the kitchen. All the real damage is in the living room.’