"For now, continue digging. Review the videos of Inspector Norton and that man from the Mairie. Try to find more connections between the past and the present. As for me, I have to return the letter and get some sleep. Tomorrow, we can figure out our next step."
My friends logged off and I removed my glasses, connecting them to the battery charger. My eyes wandered the room, settling on Hitler's letter. I picked it up carefully, the old paper feeling crumbly. It was nearing 12:30 AM.
This was probably as good a time as any to do the deed.
I arrived at the office without incident and knelt in front of the door, intent on using the screwdriver again. The weak latch gave way unexpectedly and the door flew open, banging loudly against the wall again. I hurried in, holding the letter, when a sound caused me to turn around. Standing in the doorway was Mrs Leblanc's daughter! "Uhm, hello there, Raymonde, how are you, this fine evening?"
"What are you doing here? Why are you in Grand-Papa's room? You were stealing his papers! That is what it is."
"No, I wasn't stealing it, I was, uhm, I was returning it."
"And you think that makes it right? You broke in here to return stolen papers? And who stole them if it wasn't you? Tell me that, you- you liar."
"Wait please. You are right. I did take the letter but I am also returning it. At least let me explain, then you can call the police if you want." I brought my hands together, the letter in them not helping my plea. Returning the letter to the table, I tapped it down, smoothing away the wrinkles. "I know this looks bad but I swear this is truly important."
She glared for a while but a smile worked against her frown. "No thief could look as pitiful as that. Get up and explain yourself. No wait, I have a better idea. Meet me for breakfast downstairs, tomorrow morning. You can explain then and it had better be good. Now back to your room," she stated, motioning me with her hands. She followed me, not saying another word. I went into my room, looking at her one last time.
"Thank you for believing me."
"Don't thank me yet. We will wait for tomorrow to see if thanks are due or not," she returned, closing the door and double-locking it from the outside.
Chapter 6
Raymonde Leblanc
It was 7:30 AM. The sound of a key in my door had woken me.
"Be down in fifteen minutes. I'll be waiting downstairs for your explanation," Raymonde Leblanc stated through the door.
I showered, dressed rapidly and hurried down, joining her at the corner table in the dining room.
"I have already ordered breakfast for you. Your story had better be good," she warned.
With a sigh, I sat down, looking at her. Her hazel eyes were luminous, accentuated by laughter lines. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties. A shock of raven black hair was barely held in check by a colourful ribbon tied behind her back. A few freckles adorned her cheeks. It made her look somehow mischievous. Her nose was small and pert. A wide smile and perfect teeth.
She was beautiful.
"Thank you for giving me a chance last night," I started. " I know we didn't start off well but it's all a big misunderstanding. I hope you don't mind but I have to go back a bit in order to explain why I am here."
"Fine. I will listen."
"My father and his wife were murdered by a monster called the Shadow-Killer. Before dying, my father sent me a clue about an ancient family mystery in the form of a book, The Hollow Needle, written by your great-grandfather. I followed the clues here, to Etretat. Unfortunately, the serial-Killer who killed my father is also here, searching for the same answers. On top of that, I've got an Interpol Inspector chasing me."
"You poor man. To lose your parents like that," she sympathised. "And so brave to take up the chase for answers, despite all the dangers."
"The dangers will be there no matter what I do. Bravery has little to do with it. The serial killer is out there and no one has a chance of stopping him any time soon. After re-reading the Hollow Needle, I wondered what Leblanc was really writing about. I asked a few friends to help me research the subject. A link seems to exist between my family, your great-grandfather, and the Fort of Frefosse."
She seemed startled when I mentioned the fort. I continued, "Coming here was the next logical step and I was selected to take the trip. My friends remained at home for the time being and, uhm, stayed in close communication throughout the trip. I would do the physical investigation, they would do the research and we would figure out together what was going on in Etretat."
The waitress brought our breakfast. I had omitted mentioning the techno-glasses because it would lead us right back into that plane cabin and how we met, thanks to O'Flanahan. From the moment I met Raymonde, I was attracted to her. The feelings were out of place but they were there nonetheless. I could not tell if she reciprocated my feelings but, after being caught stealing that letter, I didn't want to make any further mistakes and risk losing her burgeoning trust.
I noticed a thin man sitting at a table nearby, his head turning away when I looked in his direction. Despite an attempt to hide his features, I recognised him as the unpleasant clerk from the Mairie. He was listening to our every word.
A bead of sweat broke over my brow and butterflies invaded my stomach.
"Are you all right? You have gone all pale," Raymonde said, looking concerned.
"No, uhm, it's my stomach. It's cramping like crazy. I must return to my room. Can you help me there?" I asked, bending over slightly.
Raymonde appeared suspicious but helped me out of the restaurant, her warm, shapely body pressing against mine in the narrow hallway. Before we could reach the stairs, I straightened out and whispered in her ear, "I'm fine. Not sick. Sorry about that, trust me, I'll explain in a few minutes. However, we must leave here now. Let's go to my car."
I steered her towards the exit and the parking lot. We walked quickly, hurrying to the Porsche.
"What is going on?" she demanded.
"I am being followed. That man sitting next to us. I met him yesterday, at the Mairie, where I was trying to get information about old records. He was inexplicably rude and refused to grant me access. Suddenly, this morning, he is sitting at the next table, listening to our every word. Do you know him?" I asked.
"No, I'm afraid not. I haven't lived here for years. But we should not have too much trouble finding out who he is. If he slept here, his name will be on the register. Maman will probably know him. She knows everybody around here. Where are we going?"
"I don't know. I just want to get away from him. How about we drive to the Needle and sit on a bench and talk there."
"And what of breakfast? We walked away from our meal. I am still hungry," she argued, pouting a little.
"How about we stop and order a take-out meal on the way?"
"Non," she flatly refused. "I want to be comfortable for my breakfast. I will not sit on a cement bench, eating on my knees. There is a restaurant at the golf club, near the Needle. We can have breakfast there."
"Fine," I capitulated. She certainly was temperamental. Personally, I was fine with coffee for breakfast. I opened the car door and helped Raymonde in. Closing the door, I headed around the car when I noticed the clerk from the Mairie looking through the restaurant window.
Incapable of resisting, I waved with what I hoped was an insolent smile and got into the Porsche. Starting the powerful engine, I slammed it into gear and pushed my foot down hard. The wheels spun madly, screeching sharply, and we took off like a bullet, the back end of the car nearly sliding out of control. I almost hit a street sign as we shot out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck.
"What are you doing? Why are you going so fast? You nearly hit that truck back there," Raymonde screamed.
"Sorry, rented car. Not used to it yet." I retorted while trying to appear calm.
"That was scary."
I noticed her fast breathing and its effect on her chest.
"Keep your eyes on the road. Get that foot off the gas and tur
n left over there," she ordered.
We reached the golf club restaurant quickly, thanks to her expert directions. We sat at a table overlooking the Aval cliff and ordered breakfast from a tall, balding waiter, whose shiny head reminded me of Briar. When he left, Raymonde leaned back in her chair. "Well, now that we are here and all alone, perhaps you could finish your story?"
"I'm sorry for acting so suspiciously but, I didn't want anyone else overhearing."
"Unless that someone was going to call the police about a thief."
"We both know the time has passed for that."
Her hazel eyes jumped to mine. "Well, you do have some backbone in you after all. Yes, you are right. I will not call the police. I don't like involving them. I must admit I know something about this mystery as well. I will explain after you have told me your explanation. But be quick and to the point."
I reached in my jacket pocket and pulled out my glasses. If Raymonde had important information, I had to record it.
"Why did you put those on? Do you have a problem with your eyes?"
"Yes, the glasses, uhm, help me see better," And farther. And in the dark. And record everything.
"Next time, pick a better style. Something not as black or heavy. You look like, how do you say it? Like a 'dork'. Is that the word?"
"How about I tell you my story?"
"Go ahead, Mr Sirenne."
"Paul, please. As I said, I arrived in Paris, obtained a car and drove directly here. My focus was on the Fort of Frefosse, reputedly blown up in 1911 by the army. In fact, our information revealed someone called Old Man Vallin destroyed it and he was paid to do it. Two months later, Vallin was killed, thrown into the crater left after the fort's destruction. As for me, after an encounter with Norton, the Interpol Inspector, I went to the Mairie, looking for clues about Old Man Vallin. That was where I met the little man who was spying on us. Last night, your mother showed me your great-grandfather's office. While there, they, uhm, I saw a letter..."
"The letter I found you holding."
"That's the one."
"I have seen it before, long ago. It was from Grand-Papa's papers. Maman must have put it on the desk for the presentation coming up."
"When I saw the letter, I thought I recognised the handwriting. I did not have time to check it out because you came in. I went back later to borrow the letter, to check if I was right about the writing,"
"Who had written it, then? Tell me."
"Wait, here comes breakfast. We can't let the waiter overhear us."
Raymonde was flustered but remained silent while the waiter served us. As soon as he was out of hearing distance, she pounced, "Now, you will tell me who wrote that letter. No more delays. I will eat and you will speak."
"Fine, if you put it like that. We, uhm, I believe the letter was written by Adolf Hitler."
"Hitler? Are you positive?"
"Yes. A specialist from Nuremberg confirmed it. Hitler was living across the Channel with his sister, when the letter was written. We don't know if your grandfather met him, but Hitler's letter implied the Hollow Needle might not be complete fiction. There is more about the Fort of Frefosse. It might have been built over a tunnel leading to a huge cave. We think the Aval cliff is hollow and your grandfather knew it. Now, thanks to that letter, we believe Hitler may have known of it as well."
She had cleaned her plate in the time it took me to tell her about Hitler. "I too have questions about Grand-Papa. I'm sure you know Maman was with him when the Germans invaded our poor little town. She has never forgotten those events, although she rarely talks about them. That is when she lost her sister and her father. Relatives took her in after Grand-Papa died. Gone or not, Grand-Papa's spirit was always haunting us. When Maman re-opened the Villa and asked me to return, I decided I was going to find answers, if only to be done with Grand-Papa and maybe help Maman get on with her life. Something else happened instead. You happened!"
"Me? What about me?"
"Don't play the innocent. From the moment I saw you on that plane, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You are the strangest man I have ever met, coming here with information and wild ideas, answering the exact questions I have. The thing is, despite your antics, I like you. I feel I can trust you. I don't know if I'm speaking out of turn but I'd like to work together on Grand-Papa's mystery. We could solve this thing together and catch the murderer who killed your parents. It sounds dangerous but I don't care. And we need to talk to Maman about all this."
"Let's go right now."
"No, we will wait for that man to go away. Right now, I would like to go for a walk and get to know more about you."
She headed outside, leaving me to settle the bill. I gave the waiter a good tip, remembering his excellent timing, and hurried out of the restaurant. I caught sight of Raymonde walking near the edge of the cliff and hurried down to join her.
We walked in silence. I could think of little else but her, wondering what I was doing, thinking of a relationship, with so many dangers and challenges all around. I couldn't explain why now or why here but I was falling in love!
I moved nearer. She didn't shift away and smiled shyly. We looked deep into each other's eyes and she entwined her arm into mine, pulling me tight against her. I could feel her every movement, her body rubbing against mine. I felt thrilled, my thoughts and emotions running wild.
As we walked along, a brisk wind stirred up. The whole scene felt vaguely familiar, like a déjà-vu. I tried to dispel the feeling but it only grew stronger when she started speaking.
"I used to come up here, as a little girl. I wandered the countryside but this was my favourite place. When you mentioned the tunnels and caves, it made me think of Jean Auel."
"Didn't she write the book 'Clan of the Cave Bear'?"
"That is the one. I was fascinated by her description of the Neanderthals and how they lived in caves, right here, in France. I have gone to some of them to see the wall paintings. France has thousands of caves and people have been living in them for more than twenty-five thousand years. It seems very possible there might be a cave right under our feet. Who knows for how long it has been here?"
She stopped walking and looked down.
We were standing where the Fort of Frefosse had been. If a cave existed, its entrance was here, buried below tons of concrete, sand traps and landscaping. I noticed a large, familiar-looking, structure nearby.
The déjà-vu feeling was back. "What is that?"
"It is the first bunker built in Etretat by the Germans."
"You mean to tell me the first bunker they built was placed over the ruins of the fort. Doesn't that seem curious?"
"Yes, now that you mention it. Let's go in and look around," she suggested.
It was a crumbling affair, a bad mix of cement and local sand. The bunker was a stark reminder that, sixty years ago, this small peaceful town had seen horrible destruction and upheaval at the hands of the German army.
Approaching the bunker, a powerful feeling swept over me, as if I were being watched. Was the Shadow-Killer here? Had the man from the Mairie found us? I looked around in a panic. Peering behind me, I realised this was the exact scene from my strange dream. Remembering the strong light coming from the bunker in my dream, I examined it.
The openings were dark and lifeless.
Raymonde's arm tightened on mine as we entered the bare doorway, leading us into a simple room. The cement was crumbling away everywhere except for the floor, poured from a later batch. Why would they have re-cemented it, if not to fill in or hide something? Apart from that, there was nothing unusual. Perhaps my dream had been nothing more. However, it had not felt like a dream. It had felt meaningful. We left the bunker, heading back onto the path.
She caught my arm again, pulling me against her side.
I thought about Maurice Leblanc, about how he had led me here, to Raymonde, his great-granddaughter. I thought about what my father had said so long ago, a phrase vividly remembered:
"Son, one day, you will be thinking about how life has brought you full circle, when the end has brought you back to the beginning. That is when the real mystery will be exposed. That is when you will know why I have given you this book."
In a way, my father's end had led me to this beginning with Raymonde. I wondered if my father had been telling me about the circle of life. Perhaps the real mystery had nothing to do with treasure. Smiling to myself, I pulled Raymonde very close and kissed her.
I forgot about my father after that.
TOP SECRET
For Adolf Hitler's eyes only
From Obersleutenant Weissmuller
2nd of February, 1937
This is to be my final report about the Etretat research project. I have succeeded in our original goals a full two years ahead of schedule. I believe the result to be exactly what we desired.
All specialists, historians and archaeologists who researched Etretat have been eliminated. No trace of them, or their research, will ever be found. In some instances, this required drastic measures, all of which were successfully conducted in complete secrecy. As well, all key documents were removed from the universities involved without incident.
As a result, we are now the only ones aware of the secrets which lie below the cliffs of Etretat, apart from whatever our opponents in Etretat might know. They and their cursed town have unfortunately remained well protected despite our most strenuous efforts. Luckily, it seems their desire for secrecy is as great as ours.
We are therefore safe to begin the next phase. I have already made preparations. My recent appointment to the post of Obersleutenant in your army will help in this regard. No matter what our opponents attempt, this time they will not succeed. We will be victorious and the caves will be ours.
I have attached a brief summary of the assembled research for your examination. Once I have access to the caves, a clearer picture should emerge.
Historical Summary
1) The creation of the Etretat caves.
The caves were likely formed sixty-five million years ago by a meteorite impact in a shallow seabed. Through natural geological processes, the cracked seabed raised up, until it was an imposing limestone plateau, towering one hundred meters over the water. Four hundred and fifty thousand years ago, the Weald-Artois Anticline ridge failed, releasing a million cubic meters of water per minute. Lasting several months, the flood carved out the core of the English Channel.
The Caves of Etretat: Part One of Four Page 7
