Armand Cabasson - Wolf Hunt

‘Yes, I know that’s the reason you’ve struck him off,’ replied Margont. ‘But how obese is he?’

Relmyer stared at him as though he were mad. Luise intervened. ‘He must weigh much more than a hundred kilos. I was able to talk to his wife and to certain of his neighbours who described him to me. They told me that Sowsky moves with extreme difficulty and that he gets breathless very easily.’

Therefore it’s impossible that he’s our man,’ Relmyer repeated. ‘Just as it’s impossible that he serves in the Viennese Volunteer force and that he is with the Austrian army, contrary to what his wife claimed to you, Luise. No Volunteer battalion would accept an invalid into its ranks. He must have stayed in Vienna!’

CHAPTER 24

THE house was small, squashed between two much larger buildings; an insignificant dwelling in a modest district. While Relmyer repeatedly hammered on the door, Margont turned to Lefine and Pagin.

‘Fernand, go and take a casual look round. You, Pagin, make sure none of the neighbours leave, otherwise one of them might attract the attention of the gendarmes. But no brutality!’

Finally the door was opened by an Austrian woman with black hair streaked with grey pulled back in a chignon. She stood in the doorway, barring entry.

Luise spoke to her softly: ‘Do you remember me, Frau Sowsky? Luise Mitterburg. I came the day before yesterday to ask you about your husband.’

‘He’s not here, I told you.’

‘I can vouch for these two officers.’

‘He’s here and we’re coming in,’ cut in Relmyer in an

uncompromising tone. ‘We would like to talk to him.’

Madame Sowsky gave in, seeing that it was useless to annoy the hussar any further by defending the lost cause of her lie ... Her husband was easy to find. He was sitting in the gloom in his bedroom, the coolest place in the house. As Margont’s eye fell on him, he felt immense pity. His wife was over forty years old, but how old was he? It was impossible to tell. His excessive fat stretched his skin, filling out the grooves of his wrinkles. His protuberant stomach was literally crushing him in his armchair, and his legs, swollen and reddened with oedema, were putting him on the rack. He must have weighed a hundred and eighty kilos.

‘He’s ill, like his father before him,’ sobbed his wife. ‘Shame on you! May God strike you down!’

‘We won’t stay long,’ Margont told her tactfully.

Relmyer stared at the suffering man. His own pain was just as intense, even if it was much less visible. It was a little like looking in a mirror - the body in front of him was a reflection of his spirit.

This bitter thought increased his aggression.

‘Herr Sowsky, I want to speak to you about the army registers,’ he announced menacingly in German.

The man smiled. ‘Your accent is impeccable. You’re Austrian?’ These few words were enough to exhaust him. His obesity was slowly strangling him, compressing his lungs. Relmyer was going to continue when Sowsky waved a languid hand.

‘It’s no use! I am a patriot, Monsieur, and you are a traitor. Torture me, kill me if you like - that will hardly be an effort for you as I’m already dead - but I will never talk.’

His face was becoming purple, the price of having spoken so many words. But Sowsky had something more to say. He raised his arm: ‘Long live Austria!’

His wife, in spite of her anguish, looked at them defiantly.

‘Do you know why he works at the Kriegsministerium? It’s because his health prevented him from becoming a soldier. You can cut me up in front of his eyes, he won’t say anything and I, I will shout at him to remain silent.’

Margont was disorientated by the turn of the conversation.

‘No one is going to torture anyone. The military registers have been falsified. Names have been added to the list of losses but the people added, young boys, have never served in the regiments in question. I’m talking about the Infanterie-regimenter 9, 20, 23, 29 and 49, and the Viennese Volunteer Chasseurs. We only want to know the name of the employee responsible for that.’

Sowsky said nothing, but his face, now attentive rather than stubborn, gave him away. The manipulation had been discovered and Sowsky knew about it. The seconds ticked slowly by, like the passing of time before a rolling coin falls on its side. The coin landed on the wrong side.

‘I won’t tell you anything. The affair was discovered weeks ago ...’ He had to pause to catch his breath. So the document that Relmy-er had searched so hard for in the Kreigsministerium did exist. However, Relmyer would never succeed in finding it. On the other hand, he was in the presence of someone who had read the letter or whatever it was that had been spoken of.

‘An inquiry has been started,’ went on Sowsky with difficulty. ‘It was interrupted by the war but, after the retreat of your army, the investigation will be taken up again.’

‘I’m sure there’s a suspect! What’s his name?’ shouted Relmyer. ‘I’ve forgotten.’

Obviously he was lying.

Relmyer tried to control himself. How far would he go in order to oblige the man to speak? To resolve his quest was he going to become a disgusting executioner like the murderer he was tracking? Margont spoke in measured tones. There was already enough tension in the room without adding to it.

‘Did you ask why these falsifications took place? Do you know what happened to the young men concerned?’

Sowsky did not answer. Yes, he had asked himself that question several times. Like all honest functionaries, cheating appalled him. ‘They were assassinated,’ continued Margont.

Relmyer did not move. Sowsky’s eyes turned away. He had not imagined anything so atrocious. He had thought that the young

men were rogues trying to escape justice by passing themselves off as war deaths.

Relmyer went over to him and murmured: ‘My name is Lukas Relmyer. Relmyer: that name was almost added to those other “errors”/

Margont held out the list of suspects. ‘Please tell us who he is/ Sowsky hesitated for a long time. Finally he spoke.

‘He’s not on your list. Because he was fired the very day it was discovered that he was behind the manipulations whose significance we did not know. He claimed he was innocent. After the end of the war, he will be summoned before a military tribunal. His name is Hermann Teyhern.’

‘What does he look like?’ Relmyer pressed him.

‘I never met him. I have only worked on the army registers for a short while/

‘Is he in the Viennese Volunteer regiment?’

‘All that I heard about him is that he lives in the village of Leiten.’ Relmyer thanked him and left precipitately. Now that they had the wolf’s den, the hunt could begin.

CHAPTER 25

RELMYER hastily assembled a new detachment of hussars, but this time they skirted round the forest.

The village of Leiten was on the top of a hill and slid towards a valley carpeted with fields. Teyhern’s house was set apart, isolated by a large wood. Relmyer and his men encircled it.

The vast stone building dominated a courtyard enclosed by a wall. All the shutters were closed, giving the place the appearance of a fortress. Relmyer took hold of the axe fixed to the saddle of his mount. He was going to smash in a window near the door, but Margont advised him to choose one at the back. Relmyer obeyed and attacked the shutters with force, creating a noisy shower of splintered wood.

When he went into the house, he was struck by a sharp anguish. The gloom reminded him of the forest in which he had almost been killed. He crossed the room in a flash, bumping into armchairs, not taking the time to accustom his eyes to the darkness,