‘You mean – there are actuallyalien spaceships?’
He shrugged. ‘Who knows? We don’t have enough information to know that for sure. More likely than gods or angels, anyway.’
I thought of Gabriel, and what he’d said to me. I said, ‘But some people see angels.’
‘Then they’re imagining it. Angels are just creatures out of stories. But aliens – well, they’re different.’
I thought there was something wrong with this argument, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Instead, I said, ‘But why are you here – right here, I mean? Has there been a UFO sighting in this place?’
‘Exactly. Two nights ago. The police in Toulouse faxed it to GEIPAN. You see, if someone sees one of these phenomena, they’re encouraged to make a proper report to the police who will then pass it on to us. I was their man on the spot, so to speak – I live in Toulouse.’
‘Oh.’ I looked around the clearing, suddenly filled with a strange dread. Could it really be true that some alien craft had hovered above this spot? I’d always thought of such things as fruitcake stuff or at least so far beyond what I could really believe in that I never really wondered whether there was any truth in it. But now it felt different.
‘It wasn’t anything to worry about,’ he said, correctly reading my expression. ‘Just a shape, and some lights, and some suggestion it might have landed briefly in this very spot.’
‘Who saw it?’
‘I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential for the moment. But it was a reliable witness. We always check that very carefully. He wasn’t drunk or stoned or anything like that. And he was a very sensible, practical sort of guy. Not someone who’d make up stories. Besides, there was another witness who saw the lights too – independently. They didn’t know each other, so they hadn’t cooked it up together.’
I swallowed. ‘So it could be true? I mean that it’s one of your Class D things?’
‘We have no idea yet. It could be an easily explained one. I just have to gather as much evidence as I can from the site as well as from the witnesses, to take back to my bosses.’ He was so matter-of-fact, so sensible about it. But I felt staggered.
I asked faintly, ‘What sort of evidence?’
‘Disturbance of the ground, scorch marks, that kind of thing,’ he said. He waved a hand ruefully around. ‘Of course, it’s not going to be easy now. That’s the trouble. Conditions aren’t always optimum for investigations.’
‘N – no, I suppose not.’
‘Anyway. Never mind all that. I’m sorry, I’ve been very rude, I forgot to introduce myself.’ He held out a hand. ‘My name’s Michael Stephan. Everyone calls me Mick.’
We shook hands. ‘And I’m Sylvie,’ I said. ‘Sylvie Mandon.’
‘Good to meet you, Sylvie,’ he said, beaming.
‘And you, Mick.’
‘You’ve got a French name,’ he said.
‘My dad. Well, he’s not French, he’s American, but a Cajun, you know, from–’
‘Yeah. Louisiana. They still speak a bit of French there, right? And they have great food.’
‘It is pretty cool,’ I agreed, feeling a sudden pang for Dad’s gumbo. He made a mean gumbo. Nothing like in a restaurant. Much, much better. Heaps of seafood in the thickest tastiest spiciest soup you could imagine. Really filling.
‘Vampire country too, hein? Interview with a Vampire and all that.’
‘Mmm,’ I said, wondering if he was going to start telling me he believed in vampires as well. I hoped not. I’ve heard enough of them to last me a while. Jessie has a huge crush on vampires – well, really on that Edward Cullen guy in Twilight,you know. Not me – well, that’s to say I really liked the book and I even kind of based a poem on it, called Waiting,which I wrote for English and made into a clip last year – except that I didn’t think of the guy in that as a vampire, not really. The idea of hankering after a guy who was just stopping himself from drinking your blood, like you were some kind of rare steak, seemed pretty yuck to me, even if he was gorgeous like Edward Cullen.
But I needn’t have worried. He didn’t go on about vampires, thank God. Instead he said, ‘Where are you staying?’
‘In the town.’ I waved around at the cars. ‘We just came here today because of the film shoot.’
Oh, yeah, okay. You said there was a film. What is it?’
‘It’s a film set in Roman times, based on a book by a guy called Marc Fleury.’
His eyes widened. ‘You’re an actress?’
‘No. No way. I’m just here on holidays. The film people – we only just met them. My sister and me, we’re here on holidays with my aunt. She’s working on a book. About Herod. You know.’
‘Oh yes,’ he said, without much interest. His phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. He looked at the screen. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go now. But, look, are you in St-Bertrand for long?’
‘Two or three weeks, I’m not sure. Till–’ I broke off. I’d been about to say, Till we feel better about what happened,but decided I really didn’t want to tell him about that. It was none of his business. And even if he was cool, I’d only just met him, after all. Some things you couldn’t spill straightaway.
Mick didn’t seem to notice my hesitation. He said, ‘That’s good. I will be here for at least a week, maybe more, to complete my investigation. I hope we might meet again.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Sure, I’d like that.’ And I watched him as he loped away down the track towards the main road, the phone glued to his ear.
Out there
I was going to go back to the film shoot after that but suddenly decided I didn’t feel like it. They’d probably just be shooting that same scene for the tenth time. And I didn’t want to be around Daniel anyway. Instead, I’d just walk back to the town. I had a pretty good idea of how to get there. I like walking, it was a lovely day, and I wasn’t feeling tired at all.
But five minutes in a car is more like an hour on foot. By the time I got within sight of St-Bertrand, my feet were pretty sore and I felt really thirsty. But I’d still enjoyed it. It was very quiet on that road – only two cars had passed me in all the time I was walking. I hadn’t caught up with Mick, either, as I’d half thought I might. Of course I didn’t know if he’d come on foot or car or whatever. I hadn’t heard an engine. But some cars are pretty quiet, and he could have had it parked by the side of the road. Anyway, it didn’t matter. I was sure I would see him again, though come to think of it, he hadn’t told me where he was staying. Still, he looked like a cluey sort of guy. He’d find me, I thought. I hoped he would, anyway. He was intriguing. Not your usual sort of person. And he seemed nice. Friendly. Easygoing. He wasn’t stunningly handsome, like Daniel, but he wasn’t ugly either. If he wore contact lenses instead of those glasses, and styled his hair into a better shape, he’d not be bad at all. A bit nerdy, sure, but that was way better than being arrogant and hostile.
And the UFO stuff, well, the more I thought about it, the more cool it seemed. A few months ago, I’d watched on DVD with Jess some episodes of that old TV show, The X-Files.It was pretty good even if sometimes the special effects were a bit, well, ’90s. Those investigators – Mulder and Scully, was that it? –they were kind of doing what Mick was doing. Except that he was doing it for real. The truth was really out there for him.
I wasn’t sure that I believed in aliens at all but still, it was interesting stuff. Mysterious. And how awesome that there was even a government department in France doing that sort of thing. I’d have to look them up. And then I thought I could do a clip on them and on hunting UFOs. That could be cool. Or I could combine it with my ‘wearing different faces’ idea somehow, like an ‘alien among us’ idea – an alien pretending to be human, wearing a human sort of mask, cruising in on an ordinary street, an ordinary town, and wreaking havoc.
I walked up the hill into the town. Passing the house where the men had been working on the roof yesterday (they were gone today), I saw a familiar face at a
first-floor window. The big dark eyes and halo of hair were unmistakeable. Gabriel. He saw me too, and his face broke into the biggest, sweetest smile. He waved. I waved back, feeling a smile break out over my own face.
But somebody came up behind him then. A tall darkhaired woman with a Spanish sort of look to her. She looked suspiciously down at me, then took Gabriel away. I shrugged. Poor kid. Not only did he have a dragon of a brother but it appeared he had a dragon of a nanny too. What was the matter with them? Was Gabriel in some sort of danger? Or were they paranoid because they were rich and thought someone was out to get them? Or just paranoid full stop, seeing stranger danger in every innocent encounter? Oh well, it was none of my business. But it was a pity for that poor little kid.
When I got back to our house, I found Freddy in the kitchen having a cup of tea. She looked surprised to see me. ‘I thought you’d be out there all day.’
‘It wasn’t quite what I’d thought. I got bored with it,’ I said, going to the fridge and taking out the jug of cold water. I poured myself a big glass. ‘I walked back. It wasn’t that far. Just a bit hot.’
‘Oh, okay. You hungry? I was just going to fix myself a bit of lunch. Omelette, actually. Bought some provisions at the store earlier. Want some?’
I drank down the whole glass of water. ‘Sure, I’d love it.’
So she whisked up the eggs and cooked up the best cheese and herb omelette I’ve ever eaten, with good fresh bread and a nice salad, followed by fruit and chocolate. I ate like a horse, cos I was so hungry after that long walk. I love food, I have to tell you. All the different flavours. Textures. Colours. Patterns. I’m lucky I don’t put on weight easily, unlike Jess who’s always going on different diets and breaking them. I’d hate to have to go on a diet. I wouldn’t last two minutes. Just get bored to death.
We talked a fair bit over lunch, Freddy and me. About the film shoot, mostly, and Marc Fleury, and a bit about Daniel and Gabriel (though only in relation to the film, I didn’t particularly want to talk about the rest). But I also told her about Mick, and what he did. She was really intrigued, said she’d read an article once about the work GEIPAN did.
‘They’re totally kosher too,’ she said. ‘You can be sure your new friend’s not a fruitcake if he’s working for them. In fact he must be pretty smart. They don’t employ dumb-asses. Well, it sounds like you and your sister have sure met some great folks these last couple of days. Two days in the place and you’re already in the loop. I’m glad. I was worried you might get a bit bored here.’
‘Oh, no, it’s not boring at all.’
‘Good.’ She got up and began to clear away the plates. ‘Now, look, I’m going down to the Roman ruins this afternoon – take some video, photos, make notes – you’re welcome to come with me or stay, just as you like.’
‘I’ll stay if you don’t mind. I’m a bit tired from that walk. Could I maybe go on the internet? I’d just like to send a few emails.’
‘And look up GEIPAN, yeah?’ said Freddy, her eyes twinkling. ‘Sure, no problem. I’m not going to need the computer for a few hours. It’s all yours.’
I went into my Hotmail account first. There was that email from Mum and Dad that Freddy had told us about this morning, plus one from Jess, plus one from Kate, another friend, plus some general You Tube messages and other boring bits and pieces. Mum and Dad’s email, which was cc’ed to Claire, was pretty much of the hope-you’re-all-right-we’re-missing-you-write-soon type, but there was also a bit that made me sit up:
We saw Helen’s mother in town this morning, they’ve been back a day or two. Not Helen – Irina said her daughter was feeling better but not well enough to go back home yet. Poor things, as if they didn’t have enough to cope with, they’d received a nasty anonymous letter. Apparently it’s not from Radic’s family or associates, according to the police. They think it’s most likely a hoax, because at times like this all kinds of nutcases crawl out of the woodwork, but they’re keeping an eye on the Makarios family anyway.
Poor Helen, I thought, my heart clenching. It was far worse for her than for us. Thomas Radic had once been her boyfriend. And he’d cast a terrible shadow over her wedding-to-be. It had already been postponed. Who knew if it would even take place at all? And now this – some idiot nutcase stranger – some ghastly moron sticking his oar in, for his own twisted fun. It made me feel sick. How could people be like that?
On an impulse, I shot off an email to Helen:
Hello Helen,
Just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you and hoping you feel better very soon. We wish you were here with us, maybe you could fly over and stay, I’m sure Aunt Freddy wouldn’t mind, she’s really cool.
With lots of love from Sylvie
P.S. Claire says she’ll write soon.
Well she hadn’t said that, but I knew she would, as soon as I told her. I pressed Send, then looked at my other emails. Jess had sent me a really cute and funny e-card of an animated frog, wearing a beret, leaping over a mini Eiffel Tower, with ‘Have fun in froggy-land, miss ya, luv Jess,’written on it in red, blue and white flashing lights. Kate had sent me a Forward thing, a joke about French people and croissants that made sense only if you really, really thought about it. Kate’s often sending on those sorts of things. Sometimes they’re funny, sometimes they’re not. But the effect of both of those messages anyway was to make me feel quite cheerful, so that I answered Mum and Dad’s email with a long newsy thing, not really mentioning Helen’s anonymous letter except to say it was terrible. Instead I wrote about how much we were liking it in St-Bertrand and getting on so well with Freddy and having fun. I even told them about Mick and GEIPAN and then of course that reminded me of looking up their website. So I went to Google and put it in. Sure enough, there were heaps of references to it.
The first thing I clicked onto was their main site: www.cnes-geipan.fr/geipan, which is all in French. There were lots of interesting things there, including real case studies and a bit too about IPNs, which Mick had told me was what he worked as – but my French wasn’t good enough to make out more than a few sentences here and there. Still, I printed out a few of the case studies anyway. I would have to ask Freddy to translate, I thought. And then I found a version of their site in English at www.cnes.fr/web/CNESen/5038-geipan.php, which told you a fair bit about how they worked, their history, classifications of UFO sightings, etc, which was very interesting. It was just like Mick had said, and really amazing. Imagine how fun it would be to work there! Like being a detective, only without all the blood and horrible people and scary stuff.
I sent Jess a link to the site because I knew she would be gobsmacked by it too and told her about meeting Mick and how nice he was and then about the film shoot and everything like that. Not about Daniel though. Didn’t want to waste words on him. I emailed Kate quickly and went back to Google, where I put in Marc Fleury+Orphans of Empire.Up came several references to Fleury which were just about all in French, because of course most of his Eagle’s Children series hadn’t been translated into English yet, only the first one, which was called Appointment in Rome.But going through a fan website I found a link to Les Orphelins de l’Empire,which is of course Orphans of the Empirein French. There was a newsletter on that site that was written in both French and English and a mention of the film being made.
The entry was weeks old and though it mentioned Marc, producer Jerome Renaud, director Claudine Hernandez, and the main actors, Alexis de Pinson and others whose names I did not know, it did not mention Daniel or his uncle. But then of course he was just a bit player and as to the money man, well, nobody’s that interested in who they are, are they? I was just a bit curious because I know it takes a lot of money to make a film, like, millions, even for a low-budget one, so it amazed me that someone would really just pour heaps of dough into it just to make his nephew happy. The rich really do live in a different world, eh?
Bored with that, I had clicked out of that search and was doing my usual thing of checking my
You Tube channel and looking at other people’s videos too when I heard the door bang, and Claire’s voice, high, loud, scared, calling out for Freddy. My heart hammering, I raced out of the room and into the hall.
Claire stopped dead. She was with Marc. She was always pale but – if it was possible – she went even whiter when she saw me. She asked, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘This is where we’re staying, remember,’ I said.
Not a good response. She shouted, ‘Where the hell have you been? How did you get here?’
‘I walked.’ When I’m being shouted at like that, I tend to go all quiet. Shut-down. I can sound sarcastic, even when I don’t mean to. It’s just that I hate it. Hate being screamed at.
‘For God’s sake, Sylvie! We’ve been looking for you everywhere! We thought you’d got lost in the woods.’
‘Why the hell would you think that?’
‘Because Daniel – one of the actors – he told us he’d seen you heading there,’ said Marc, speaking for the first time.
I went cold. Hell, it just had to be the guy who couldn’t stand my guts! Just my bloody luck. ‘What the hell business is it of hiswhat I do?’ I snapped.
‘You know him?’ said Claire, sounding surprised.
‘I met him briefly yesterday. The rudest person in the world. I didn’t know he was an interfering busybody as well, spying on people,’ I said, angrily.
‘He was not spying on you,’ said Marc gently. ‘He just happened to notice. He thought you must have got bored, because we repeated so much, and just went for a walk in the woods. But it is not always safe, you know. And Sylvie, you must understand – Jerome told me – really bad things have happened in Daniel’s life and, well, he doesn’t trust the world much. He expects the worst, always.’
Bright Angel Page 6
