The Caves of Etretat: Part One of Four

by Matt Chatelain

  Running had been a mistake. The Resistance had left behind two most valuable assets. That which we sought plus their women and children! It ensured our success, no matter what they did. Despite my eagerness to fight the Resistance, my real goal had little to do with them. My purpose was to seize that which Leblanc had held for more than thirty years.

  By the end of the first day, all takeover phases had been carried out. I finished the evening drinking champagne and terrorizing the deputy mayor. It was entertaining enough, watching him jump from foot to foot, his face blanching in fear. He was a puppet for the absent Lindon. However, Tonnetot, Lindon and Leblanc were powerless. They could do nothing. This time, it was our turn.

  On the second day, digging was well underway on the Aval cliff. I was informed we would soon break through into the buried Frefosse dungeon. As well, much headway had been made in the Leblanc villa. A secret passageway had been found connecting a bedroom with his office. The men were positive they would find another passageway soon. Following the census team's report, I had two locals brought in. Despite the severity of my questioning, neither admitted a single thing. We buried them behind the ancient church, a good end to a satisfying day.

  The third day found me in a less than pleasant mood. The search of both villas had revealed nothing. My men were not solving the challenges. Early afternoon, I went out to Leblanc's home. It took six hours to find the second tunnel. Once in, we reached the caves in less than an hour, our arrival coinciding with the breakthrough into Frefosse's ancient dungeon on the other side.

  The caves were ours!

  The fourth day was to be our last 'official' day in Etretat. Using an incident developing in the distant Havre as a handy excuse, we pretended to leave. In fact, only empty vehicles left Etretat, my men and I safely ensconced inside the caves. Another Kommandant was selected. Ignorant of the existence of the caves, he had orders to impose complete control over the region. We would be free to act.

  We hid the entrance to Frefosse's dungeon, concealing it underneath a hastily-poured bunker. Its floor could be lowered by a hydraulic system. The Leblanc tunnel would be used as a secondary access.

  Now came the most important phase of the project, where my planning would prove invaluable. We would not stop until these caves were transformed into a veritable fortress, unlike any other in the world, from which we could carry out our plans of world domination.

  Chapter 10

  The Tunnels

  I was sitting down in Leblanc's antique desk chair. I had been looking around the room, trying to solve our new riddle. The secret passageway led here, therefore the Vallins came through here. Both outside doors in the Villa had alarms and neither had gone off. So, where had the Vallin brothers gone?

  "I may have something," said Briar. "Could you move back against the wall in front of the desk and slowly pan the room."

  I did as he asked.

  "Perfect. Tell me what you see. Describe it, my boy."

  "I see a desk, behind that, a chair, and a low cabinet with a built-in bookshelf."

  "What about above the bookshelf? What do you see there? Tell me that!" he emphasized, getting excited, his shiny head bouncing around animatedly.

  "I see a large rectangle. Inside that, a triangle, and inside that, a circle!"

  It had been there all the time, right in plain view.

  Another Leblanc masterpiece.

  "Bravo, my boy, Bravo!" Briar added, nearly screaming. He caught himself and calmed down, straightening out his jacket.

  Leblanc had purchased this house in 1917. He often claimed illness, spending much of his time in bed, resting. What if, instead, he had a hidden exit, allowing him to escape without being seen, not even by his wife? What then?

  I returned to the desk chair and sat down. I thought of my father, training me to think logically, preparing me for moments like this. No matter which way I assembled the facts, my conclusion was always the same. The entrance used by the Vallin brothers had to be the library unit itself.

  Three observations led me to this. The first: there wasn't enough room behind the walls for a hidden passage anywhere else in the house. The second: Leblanc always put his clues in plain sight. I was sure he had done the same in his private office. He had placed the geometric symbols above the library.

  The third observation was dust. Upstairs, the carpet had hidden the traces of dust from the hidden corridor. Down here, on the varnished wooden floor, dust was much more visible. By simply rotating my chair and looking down, I could see dusty footprints between the bedroom passageway and the bookcase. Though an attempt to clean up had been made, enough remained to note two different shoe impressions, confirming both Vallin brothers had invaded the house. One had likely remained in the office, keeping a vigil, while the other had gone up to Raymonde's bedroom.

  Therefore, logically, a door was right in front of me. Mrs Leblanc was opening drawers and moving objects at random, trying to trigger the door mechanism. She would not succeed. It was not a book. Too easy to trigger. There would be no switch, no button. There could be no accidental opening of this doorway.

  I noticed four little rectangles, one on each of the bookcase's four columns. They jarred with the rest of the library unit, as if imposed on it, not part of the original design. There was also a shelf missing on the right. Why was it missing? "Raymonde, could you close the panel entrance into this room."

  "Paul's figured something out," Coulter said.

  I opened the bookcase's left glass door, and emptied the second shelf. Removing it, I found it came off strangely, nestled inside a curious spring-loaded notch on the left. This was unlike the shelf's right side, where a small strip of wood acted as support. Pulling the shelf out, I heard a faint 'thunk' emanating from inside the wall.

  I opened the glass door on the right side of the library, exposing the area missing a shelf and checked for a similar indentation. It was painted over but it was there. With an apologetic look at Mrs Leblanc, I hit the indentation hard with the palm of my hand. The paint let go, revealing another spring-loaded notch. I took the shelf, pushing it into the indentation and dropping the other side down on the wooden strip. As it seated itself, a second, deep 'thunk' was heard, much louder than the previous one. Closing all three cabinet glass doors, I felt them lock more securely than before. Holding my breath in anticipation, I reached for the cabinet handle on the right and pulled on it.

  Nothing happened!

  While wondering what I had missed, my eyes fell upon a book on the top shelf. It was The Hollow Needle, an identical copy to the two already in my possession. Unfortunately, the cabinet doors would not open again, probably not until I activated the mechanism to access the hidden entrance. I would have to examine the book later.

  "Mrs Leblanc, would you mind closing the office door? It would probably be best if you closed it from the inside."

  The door closed with a solid 'thunk'.

  "Try opening it again."

  She tried but it was impossible.

  "Excellent. Now let me have another go at this."

  I reached for the cabinet glass door one more time and pulled on its handle. After a few moments, I detected movement! Excited, I tugged harder. The entire bookcase slid out of the wall, accompanied by a hiss of escaping air. It was nothing more than a very thick, very wide door. The low cabinet in front of it had gotten even lower, dropping into the floor, as the library continued to open on its massive hinges. The lower cabinet settled into a new position, becoming a handy step.

  Raymonde and her mother peered into the inky darkness of the tunnel beyond, as they congratulated me. Coulter asked how I had done it.

  "Oh no. I'm not wasting a half-hour explaining things. I'll explain it on the way. It's time for us to go exploring."

  ***

  Past the library 'doorway', a set of stairs vanished into the darkness. Aiming the flashlight around and seeing nothing dangerous, I descended slowly, Raymonde following close behind. We had packed a
few supplies and brought a coil of rope, just in case. The glasses were recording and my three friends were glued to their monitors. Mrs Leblanc stayed behind, choosing to remain in the office until our return.

  After about seven metres, the stairs ended and we followed a straight brick corridor, featureless except for electrical wires attached to the wall at regular intervals. The wires had been cut near the entrance, suggesting there had been an outside power source in the past. I saw an extremely old light bulb in a ceramic socket and I noticed more bulbs hanging from the wires in the distance. Coulter stopped me before I could go further. "Do me a favour and examine that light bulb more closely. Maybe we can learn more about who placed them here."

  I lifted the light bulb up, exposing a printed logo.

  "It's German. That means Germans were in this tunnel. When would they have had the chance? Would you know, Briar?" wondered O'Flanahan.

  "There can only be one time. The Germans invaded in Etretat in 1940. They took over Leblanc's house immediately following their arrival. They would have been able to search this house from top to bottom. It could not have held its secrets for long."

  "It must have been heart-rending for Leblanc to run away from his home, knowing the German army was coming to steal what he had kept hidden all these years," Raymonde commented.

  This was no longer a clever theory spun around a coffee table. Unfortunately, Leblanc had taken whatever he knew to his grave. No, I was wrong about that. The Shadow-Killer knew. Hitler also knew, as early as 1911. Hitler and another man, killing people, stealing the same information we were desperately trying to collect today.

  It truly was a conspiracy!

  Unfortunately, I could not accept Leblanc would ever have allied himself with Hitler and company. Leblanc had left Etretat behind in 1939, proving he was not their ally but rather their enemy.

  O'Flanahan's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Say, are you going to explain how you opened the secret door in Leblanc's office or what?"

  "It began with the impression of a straight line that wasn't there. The four rectangles on the bookcase implied a straight line. There was no shelf on the right side of the cabinet, breaking the line. When I transposed the right and left shelves with the concept of open and closed, as applied to the passageways, I understood Leblanc's game. The left shelf of the library represented the secret door in Leblanc's bedroom upstairs. The middle shelf represented the office itself and the right shelf represented the secret doorway leading out of the office. To move from the office to the hidden passageway, I would have to replace the missing shelf on the right but there was no spare shelf sitting around. I took my comparison a step further. Perhaps, I had to take the left shelf, the one representing the upstairs passageway, and move it to the right side to complete the line. This might mean only one door could be open at a time for the mechanism to work. That's why I asked Raymonde and Mrs Leblanc to close the entry points. With both doors closed and both shelves in the right position, the hidden passageway mechanism was unlocked, allowing me to open the tunnel door."

  "I can't believe you came up with that. I'm officially impressed," Coulter admitted.

  "I'll second that," O'Flanahan said gruffly.

  Our modern tunnel connected with a much older tunnel carved out of the bedrock. Water pooled around our feet, soaking our shoes.

  "Maybe that's why the Vallin were walking around in socks. They came in rubber boots and took them off to avoid leaving wet tracks all over," Raymonde said.

  The older tunnel ended in a T-junction, the wires turning to the left towards the Aval cliff and the caves we sought. Everyone wanted to follow the wires.

  Our direction was chosen.

  While we walked along the dark tunnel, countless noises echoing around us, Briar broached a previous topic, "I have done more research into Norton being the killer."

  "You've been thinking Norton was the Shadow-Killer for a while now. I just don't see why it has to be him," O'Flanahan interrupted.

  "Because he's the one after us, I mean after you, Paul. Raymonde as well, I would guess. Norton's actions at the Chapel did nothing to make him look innocent. You must admit that. I mean the man shot at you both. Once he had the cylinder in his possession, who knows what he might have done," Briar retorted.

  "He might have done nothing, being just a cop tracking a killer and coming across an unexpected clue in the form of that cylinder," O'Flanahan snapped back.

  Both had good arguments. I was leaning in O'Flanahan's corner. Norton might be unhinged but he didn't come across as a killer. Briar spoke up again, "My point is I have come up with disturbing information. I am not the first to suspect Norton of killing his sister. He was investigated but the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. He saw shadows everywhere, Shadow-Killers, and he found them, or at least, he claimed he did. Many doubted the unsolved murders he collected for his list were connected. His work suffered as his obsession with the Shadow-Killer grew. Inspector Rowan from Interpol accused him with the murder of several people from his list. Unfortunately, Rowan was conveniently killed in an accident before he could reveal his evidence. The case was dropped. Norton was eventually re-instated but warned to steer clear of his theories. When he pulled strings to check on your parent's murder and started talking about the killer again, Interpol became uneasy. After the Harry Stiles murder, Interpol stopped hesitating and shut Norton down or rather, they tried to. He took off before they could apprehend him. There is, at this very moment, a warrant for his arrest across the whole of Europe. I tell you, Norton is the killer. I am sure of it."

  This was certainly worrisome.

  Raymonde and I had walked about a hundred and fifty metres towards the Aval cliff. We encountered increasing amounts of rubble and broken chunks of rock. Everyone hoped the caves wouldn't be much further. The rubble deepened until it filled up the entire tunnel. The wires disappeared into the pile of broken rocks and stones.

  "This mess has been here for a long time. It looks like the collapse may have been caused by an explosion of some force," informed Coulter.

  "The tunnel was blown up after the Germans had been here. Those wires continue through the rubble. They blew the tunnel when they were done with it," observed O'Flanahan.

  Frustrated, we headed back the other way.

  "Digging tunnels through stone is hard work, even soft chalk like this. This is a long tunnel. Someone must have felt it was worth the effort," stated Briar.

  "Could Romans have dug this tunnel?" wondered Coulter.

  "Absolutely," replied Briar, ever the professor. "Romans were here in 50 BC, they had the tools, the skills and the work force. They would have needed a lot of men, let me tell you. This is a very long tunnel."

  Raymonde and I were now knee deep in freezing water and it was getting deeper. The reception for the glasses had been degrading as we got further underground. We managed to say good-bye to our friends before losing our connection to the Internet completely.

  ***

  We had been wading through deep water for a while and were shivering from the cold. Luckily, the water grew shallower until, thankfully, we were past it. We took a short break to warm up. I took off my pants and wrung them dry. I was shaking with the cold, numbed by it, as was Raymonde. Despite being chilled, she still had enough energy to comment on my appearance, as I stood, shivering in my underwear.

  Still, she followed my example and removed her sopping pants, squeezing them free of excess water, while cleverly avoiding my sarcastic retort. We rubbed each other briskly to get the blood flowing again.

  Our shivering taken care of, we dressed, our clothes sufficiently dry, and continued our march along the tunnel leading towards the Amont cliff. My senses sharpened in the gloom and I was able to pick out details in the rock walls. Despite the weak flashlight, I perceived everything with such clarity, I felt I might not need the flashlight at all.

  I mentioned the strange occurrence to Raymonde. She surprised me by saying she was ex
periencing the same thing and suggested we turn off the flashlight.

  As our eyes adjusted, it seemed as if the walls and roof of the tunnel were emanating a dim light, an incredibly faint yellow glow, so weak the flashlight had overwhelmed it. Neither of us came up with a satisfactory explanation for the strange luminosity. We continued in silence, enjoying the odd experience while it lasted, turning the flashlight back on when the glow faded to nothing.

  We arrived at a dead end, the tunnel stopping abruptly, as if work on it had been abandoned. Baffled, Raymonde and I retraced our steps until we found a small room a few metres before the end of the tunnel. It was empty, except for a few rotten shelves.

  We returned to the end of the tunnel. To our relief, we discovered a narrow cleft in the rock on the left, cleverly hidden in the folds of the tunnel walls. It led us to a door made of a single block of stone. A lever released a catch, allowing us to open it. We walked out into a bigger tunnel, this one lined in long bricks, much older than those in the tunnel near the Leblanc residence. Bricks like these had to be from the Roman period. I recorded everything for future analysis. We went along the right side of the tunnel. After a short distance, we encountered a locked gate, beyond which we saw an overgrown glade.

  Unable to exit, we retraced our footsteps. Once past the camouflaged door, we perceived the faint sounds of pounding surf. Soon after, we arrived at the end of the tunnel, a hole in the Amont cliff, about ten metres above the ground. Below us, exposed by the retreating tide, was a short strip of sand connecting to the main beach.

  I coiled a loop of rope around an outcropping, dropping both ends to the beach below. We were not the first to come here. There were signs of rope wear right where I had just placed mine. The Vallin brothers had probably come through here twelve hours ago, when the tide was out.

  I climbed down first, getting to the bottom quickly and waited, holding the rope tight, as Raymonde went carefully over the ledge and made her way down the cliff. She dropped down the last few feet into my waiting arms. After a brief kiss, we separated and, reaching for the hanging rope, I pulled until it slipped off the outcropping. I coiled it up, hung it on my shoulder, picked up both pack-sacks and headed off to Etretat's main beach, Raymonde and I holding hands.