Giorgio Faletti - I Kill

‘Let’s hear it.’

‘If I were you, general, I’d just keep out of it. Captain Mosse is in deep trouble and not even you can get him out. Military tactics provide for situations like these, don’t they? Sometimes you simply have to cut your losses and leave one of your men to his fate.’

‘No one gives me lessons in military tactics. Especially you, Frank. I’ve taken people who were harder than you’ll ever be and torn them to pieces. You’ll just be one more, mark my words.’

‘Everyone’s got to take his chances, general. That’s the rule of war.’

Frank had turned his back and left. On the way out he had seen Helena standing at the living room door, to the right of the hallway. Frank could not help thinking how beautiful she was, with her luminous eyes and skin. Her blonde hair. Their eyes had met as he passed. Frank had noticed that, contrary to his initial impression, her eyes were blue, not grey. And her gaze held all the sorrow of the world.

Driving downtown, Frank had leaned back in his seat, his eyes studying the plastic lining of the ceiling. He had kept trying to erase two overlapping images from his mind. Harriet and Helena. Helena and Harriet. The same eyes. The same sadness.

Frank had tried to think of something else. As they reached headquarters on Rue Notari, he had pondered the general’s mocking words. No One gives me lessons in military tactics. The general didn’t realize all the implications of what he had said. Just then, there was a killer at large who could give lessons to them all.

‘I said, what do you think General Parker will do?’ repeated the attorney general.

Frank was so deep in thought that he had let Durand’s question go unanswered for a little too long.

‘Sorry. I think Parker will do everything in his power to help Mosse, but he won’t throw himself off a cliff. The consulate will surely get into this, but there’s one important fact to be noted. Mosse was arrested by an American FBI agent. We wash our dirty laundry among ourselves and we save face. We’re the country that came up with impeachment, after all, and we’ve never been afraid to use it.’

Durand and Roncaille exchanged glances. He was right. There were no problems there. Durand took his time getting to the point.

‘Your presence here is a guarantee that everyone has the best intentions. Unfortunately, the road to hell is paved with them. Right now, we – and I mean the Principality police – need results. The Roby Stricker case has apparently nothing to do with the killer we’re after.’

Frank felt Nicolas Hulot standing behind him. They both knew what Durand was driving at. There were dark clouds hanging over them. And behind those clouds, there was an axe raised, ready to strike.

‘There was another victim last night. The fourth. We can’t just sit here letting garbage get dumped on our heads. I repeat, your collaboration is greatly appreciated, Frank.’

Politely tolerated, Durand. Only politely tolerated. Why don’t you use the right words, even if I did just hand you General Parker and his thug on a silver platter?

Durand went on in the same vein, dumping the garbage at Hulot’s door.

‘I’m sure you realize that the authorities simply cannot continue to watch a chain of murders like this without taking steps, unpleasant as they might be.’

Frank watched Nicolas. He was leaning against the wall, suddenly alone on the battlefield. He looked like a man refusing a blindfold before a firing squad. Durand had the decency to look him in the eye as he spoke.

‘I’m sorry, inspector. I know you’re an excellent officer, but at this point I have no choice. You are removed from the case.’

‘I understand, Dr Durand,’ Hulot said, nodding simply. He was probably too tired to protest. ‘There won’t be any problems.’

‘You can take a holiday. This case has been extremely wearing for you. The press, of course-’

‘I said there was no problem. There’s no need for you to sugar the pill. We’re all adults and we know the rules of the game. The department must do as it sees fit.’

If Durand was impressed with Hulot’s reply, he did not let on. He turned to Roncaille. Until then, the police chief had listened in silence.

‘Good. You’ll take over the investigation, Roncaille. As of today. Please keep me informed of every development. Any time of day or night. Goodbye, gentlemen.’ And the ever polite attorney general Alain Durand walked away, leaving a silence behind him that he was relieved not to share.

Roncaille ran a hand through his already smooth hair.

‘I’m sorry, Hulot. I would have liked to avoid this.’

The police chief’s words were not just a formality. The man was genuinely sorry, but not for the reasons he wanted them to believe. Now he was in the lion’s cage, and it was up to him to tame the wild beasts.

‘Get some sleep. You both need it. Then I’d like to see you in my office as soon as possible, Frank. There are some details I’d like to discuss with you.’ With the same apparent composure as Durand, Roncaille escaped from the room as well. Frank and Hulot were left alone.

‘See? I hate to say “I told you so,” but I can’t blame them.’

‘Nicolas, I don’t think either Roncaille or Durand could have done any better than we did. This is politics, not reason. But I’m still in it.’

‘You. And what do I have to do with it?’

‘You’re still a police inspector, Nicolas. You were taken off a case, not suspended from the force. And you’ve got something that nobody else on the case has.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Twenty-four hours a day to work on it, without having to account to anyone, without having to waste your time writing reports.’

‘Through the back door, huh?’

‘Right. There’s still something we have to check out, and you seem the best person to do it now. Actually, I don’t think it was I who noticed that record sleeve in the video.’

‘Frank, you’re a son of a bitch. A real son of a bitch.’

‘I’m your friend. And I owe it to you.’

Hulot changed his tone. He stretched his neck to relieve the tension. ‘I think I’ll get some shut-eye. I guess I can now, right?’

‘Yeah, and I can’t have heard Roncaille say he wants to see me “as soon as possible”. I’m practically asleep already.’

Frank rubbed his eyes and looked up at the blue rectangle framed by the window. When he had returned home to his apartment he had been too tired even to shower. He had collapsed on the bed after peeling off his clothes, leaving the shutters open.

I’m not in Monte Carlo, he thought. I’m still in that house on the beach, trying to pull myself together. Harriet is sunbathing next to me, lying on a towel, the wind in her hair and a smile on her face. Now I’m getting up and going to her, and there will be no one dressed in black. There will be no one between us.

‘No One…’ he said aloud.

The two deaths of the night before came back to him and he got up reluctantly. Through the window he could see a strip of sea where gusts of wind had formed whitecaps far offshore. He went over to open the window. A gust of warm air rushed in and swept what was left of the nightmares from the room. He had slept only a few hours and felt as though he could have slept for ever.

He showered, shaved and put on fresh clothes. As he made himself some coffee, he mused over the new developments. Now that Nicolas was out of the game, things would be a lot more complicated. Roncaille wasn’t capable of handling things on his own, at least not from an investigative point of view. He might be a genius at PR and talking to the media, but field investigations were not his cup of tea. Maybe a long time ago they had been, but now he was more politician than cop. However, he had a good team working for him. The Principality’s police force wasn’t considered one of the best in the world for nothing… blah blah blah…