Adrian Magson - Death on the Pont Noir

Tasker turned and looked back. The police car was slowing with a flash of its brake lights. They were turning back. ‘Put your foot down,’ he said quietly. ‘Get us a good lead.’

Calloway nodded and the car leapt forward. They drove in silence for a mile, each alone in their thoughts. Then Tasker said, ‘Stop the car.’

Calloway glanced at him. ‘You what? They’ll be on us in a minute.’

‘I said, stop the bloody car. Now!’ To emphasise his point, Tasker dropped the stock of the sawn-off into the crook of his elbow so that the barrels were nudging Calloway’s ribcage.

Calloway did as he was told, applying the brakes firmly but smoothly. Any sudden movement right now would cost him his life. He coasted to a halt. They were near an expanse of woodland, the trees spiky and rimed with frost. A gathering of crows circled around the uppermost branches, disturbed by the car’s arrival, while below them, some cows in a field looked up, breathing out clouds of vapour at this sudden intrusion.

Tasker said without looking round, ‘Biggs. Get round to the back and rip off the number plate. Somebody will have reported it and we need to keep ’em guessing.’

Biggs eyed the gun in Tasker’s hands, then shrugged and climbed out.

‘Right, go,’ said Tasker quietly, and lifted the barrels of the sawn-off. ‘Nice and quick, now.’

Calloway had no choice. He nodded and stamped on the accelerator. The car fishtailed slightly on the greasy surface, then they were away, leaving Biggs standing at the side of the road, his mouth open in shock.

‘What was that for?’ said Calloway.

‘Because he annoyed me. And he called us amateurs.’ He sniffed and lowered the gun to the floor between his knees. ‘And he’ll slow down that cop car. Now get me close to this bloody village before they catch up with us.’

It didn’t take long for the cavalcade of patrol cars, emergency crews, support vehicles and other interested parties to arrive, summoned by the bodyguards in the DS.

Rocco and Claude waited on the bridge, immune to the cold, hands in plain sight as the first cars skidded to a stop and officers jumped out, guns drawn; it would have been too disturbingly ironic to have had a zealous patrol cop, anxious to make a name for himself, start blazing away without asking questions as soon as he saw two men at the site of an attack on the president.

Some looked surprised to see Rocco, men who had heard about his suspension. They either avoided his gaze or muttered between themselves about what he was doing here. Most nodded with familiarity or called a greeting, and went to investigate the crash site.

Among the vehicles were two blue vans with Godard and his Gardes Mobiles, who quickly put up roadblocks to keep unwanted gawkers at bay and isolate the scene from the press. A car carrying Commissaire Perronnet, Captain Canet and Dr Rizzotti arrived and parked on the far side of the bridge. Both officers nodded at Rocco without comment before walking by and studying the scene of the truck’s descent into the pond.

Rizzotti stopped alongside Rocco and Claude, and took one look over the edge before shaking his head. He eyed Rocco for a moment, then gave him a covert wink before suggesting loudly that someone call a rescue truck with heavy lifting gear.

Then Commissaire Massin appeared.

The senior officer uncurled himself from the rear of Perronnet’s car with an air of reluctance. He viewed the area for a moment, adjusting his cap with care, then walked along the road onto the bridge, his shoes clicking with parade ground precision. He nodded at Rocco and Claude, then went to view the scene for himself, before returning accompanied by Canet and Perronnet.

As he did so, Detective Desmoulins arrived in a patrol car and jogged across the bridge. He was grinning widely.

‘You were right all along, Lucas,’ he said loudly, while still several metres away. His words carried clearly in the thin air, drawing the attention of the uniformed officers and support crews securing the scene. All conversation ceased. ‘They hit the Credit Agricole in Bethune; four Englishmen in a DS, armed with shotguns and pistols. Three went in and one stayed with the car.’ He stopped in front of Rocco and looked around, enjoying the audience. ‘Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea. They ran slap bang into another crew and there was a gunfight. I just heard it over the radio. Sounds like it was a rerun of the Valentine’s Day Massacre.’

Massin was the first to speak. ‘What are you talking about?’ He clearly hadn’t heard the news.

‘The English gang who smashed up the cafe? Lucas said they were here to do a job, and he was right; they came back to rob the bank in Bethune. Three got away but one was killed. One of the second gang was killed and one wounded. I’d already warned the Bethune office as Lucas suggested, but they were a bit reluctant to believe me, especially…’ he paused, then added innocently, ‘as they’d heard about his suspension.’

Massin said nothing for a moment, the skin around his eyes going tight. Then he said, ‘What else? Was anything stolen?’

‘No. That was the joke. There was a last-minute change to the schedule. The bank said the main bulk of money was delivered a day early at the request of the tyre factory. Something about shutting the lines down for a maintenance check, so they paid the workers yesterday instead.’

‘Who were the other crew?’ Rocco asked.

‘One of the local cops reckons the dead man is an old gang soldier from St Denis in Paris who’d retired years ago. The wounded guy and the third one they caught right outside were amateurs. A bunch of nobodies.’

‘I see.’ Massin looked bemused. ‘Where are the Englishmen now?’

‘Last seen heading north — probably back to Calais and the white cliffs of Dover. I alerted the Calais division and they’re putting out patrols to stop them.’ He looked at Rocco and gestured towards the truck below them. ‘Sounds like the distraction you described, while all this was going on.’

Rocco nodded, his eyes on Massin. The next step was up to him.

The commissaire looked uncomfortable and lifted his chin, then turned and spoke directly to Rocco. ‘I have had… representations from an eyewitness who confirms that you were handed an envelope by a man answering the description of the Englishman, Tasker.’ He glanced around as if making sure everyone was listening, although not a sound could be heard. ‘She confirmed that you handed the envelope back with

… “a degree of force”, was how she described it.’

Mme Denis, thought Rocco. You beauty.

‘I have also received documentation via our embassy in London, supporting the fact that you refused on the spot to take the money.’

‘Documentation?’ Rocco couldn’t believe it.

‘A copy of a statement made by the accomplice of the man Tasker — the same one who took the photographs — witnessed by a third secretary of our embassy and two members of the Metropolitan Police, one of them Detective Chief Inspector Nialls, who I can vouch for personally.’

Rocco blinked at that. It was quite a thing to say, for Massin.

‘I consider it sufficient to back up your claim that it was an attempted entrapment, Inspector, and have already issued directions for your suspension to be lifted. And I apologise for the… regrettable accusations made against you. I’m sure you understand, however, that I had to follow certain… procedures.’ He coughed. ‘I believe you, too, unwittingly, became part of the distraction.’

‘Thank you,’ he said.

Massin nodded and reached down to his side. For the first time Rocco realised he was wearing a sidearm. Massin unclipped it and held it out. ‘I’m sorry — I did not bring your weapon. You might need this.’