by Daniel Kalla
“Then it will be easy for you,” Avril said. “Listen, M. Robichard, I am obliged to follow up on issues raised by the investigators with the E.U. and the WHO.”
“What issues?” he asked.
Avril shrugged as if the whole investigation were a big nuisance to her, too. “They allege that someone is tampering with their investigation.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I promise I will not take much of your time.”
Robichard turned and walked back into the house. Without a spoken invitation, Avril followed him down the narrow hallway. As she approached the living room, the smell of smoke grew stronger and she recognized the sounds—cheering and commentary—of a televised soccer game. She stepped into the cold austere living room, just as Robichard flicked off the sleek flat-screen TV mounted above the mantel. “I tape the matches and watch them in the morning,” he explained as he put the remote control down on the arm of the well-worn chair facing the screen.
He settled into the same chair and reached for the pack of cigarettes resting on the other arm. Avril sat down on the weathered sofa beside him. “Nine more calves, I hear,” Robichard said without looking at her.
“Excuse me?” Avril said.
He reached for the lighter and clicked it five or six times before the flame finally emerged. He lit the cigarette between his lips and inhaled a long drag before speaking. “I was told that nine more calves on the farm tested positive for mad cow.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
He coughed. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”
“Can you explain it?” she asked.
“Explain it? I never even saw it.” Robichard snorted. “All those supposed cases of mad cow disease and not one actually sick cow on our farm. How do you explain that?”
Avril searched his eyes for a hint of evasion, but she saw none. “I don’t understand your industry enough to even begin to try,” she said. “What about the contamination found in the cattle feed?”
“We did not supplement our feed with animal products. I have no idea how it showed up.” He paused for another drag of his smoke. “Or even if it showed up.”
“If?”
“All these positive tests and yet not one sick animal,” he said. “How do you know someone in the lab or at the E.U. is not falsifying results to make our animals look responsible?”
“I do not,” she said, realizing that his hypothesis might have weight. “Besides, it is beyond my jurisdiction. I am simply following up on the allegation that someone is interfering with the scientific investigators.”
“They have no right to complain,” Robichard grumbled in disgust. “Look what their interference did to our farm.”
Avril nodded empathetically. “Dr. Haldane has raised the possibility that the human cases are not at all related to the outbreak in the cows.”
Robichard’s frown deepened but he said nothing.
“He even speculates that the cows might have been infected to cover up the real source of the human cases.”
Robichard crushed the butt in the clay ashtray beside the pack of cigarettes but still did not comment.
“Dr. Haldane suggests that these conspirators might have even injected the animals directly with the mad cow disease.”
“Injected them?” Robichard fumbled with the pack, almost knocking it on the floor. He managed to steady it and extract a new cigarette. “That is craziness,” he muttered as he grasped for his lighter.
Avril’s toes tensed inside her boots. To avoid eye contact, she glanced at the mantel and again noticed the large TV mounted above. It looked new and expensive, so out of place relative to the rest of the sober furnishings.
Robichard stopped clicking his lighter and eyed her guardedly. “What is it, Detective?”
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she feigned weariness by rubbing her eyes and exhaling heavily. “M. Robichard, I have a very full agenda. Real criminals—murderers, thieves, and rapists—to catch. Frankly, I do not have the time or energy to follow up on the wild ideas of some foreign doctor, but my boss is being pressured by his boss and so on. You understand?”
Robichard appeared to relax slightly in his chair. He clicked the lighter a few more times until it finally produced a flame. “I know the feeling,” he said as he lit the cigarette.
“Just so that I can reassure the others, you are saying it is not possible that someone injected the cows at Ferme d’Allaire?”
He sucked aggressively at his cigarette. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“All right, but supposing someone managed to sneak onto the premises—”
“I used to practically live on that farm.” Robichard gestured with his cigarette, indicating the sparsely furnished living room. “Believe me, Detective, no one could sneak onto the farm without me hearing about it.”
“I understand.”
“And no one injected my animals. It’s all nonsense.”
“Of course, but I had to ask.” She dismissed the idea with a toss of her wrist, but her chest thudded and her blood chilled remembering his flustered initial response. She had been a detective too long to overlook that moment of exposure.
43
Limoges, France. January 21
Noah woke to the shrill ring of the room’s phone. As he reached for the receiver, he glanced at the bedside alarm: 7:10 A.M. “Hello,” he croaked.
“Morning, Noah,” Gwen Savard said pleasantly. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
He smiled to himself. “Matter of fact, you did, but thanks. I didn’t set my alarm. Normally, I don’t need to over here.”
“Sounds like you’ve adjusted to the French time zone.”
“Let’s not get carried away, Gwen.” He yawned. “Hey, must be late in Washington.”
“You know me, I’m a night owl.”
“An early bird, too.” He remembered those times waking up in Gwen’s bed to find that she had already left for a meeting or a predawn workout.
“What can I say? My job leaves more than a little to be desired.” She laughed. “Were you trying to reach me yesterday?”
He realized she would have seen his number on her call display even though he had not left a message. It reminded him of Charron’s fateful calls.
“You still there, Noah?”
“Just groggy,” he said. “It was nothing urgent, Gwen.”
“Oh, all right.” There was a note of strain in her voice, and Noah felt the distance widening between them again. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need any help from me and that you were, you know, okay.”
Determined not to let the conversation lapse into another series of awkward platitudes between former lovers, he said, “Listen, Gwen, this might not be the time or place…but I wanted to tell you that I really miss you.”
“Oh, that’s…um…” Her voice faltered. “Very sweet of you to say.”
Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “I was hoping it might mean a little more than that.”
“Of course it does, Noah,” she said, her words more assured. “It’s just unexpected.”
Noah realized that she might be dating someone else. “Look, it’s not a big deal.” He forced a laugh. “I think I’ve probably been reminiscing over too much French wine. Please don’t—”
“Noah, I think about you all the time. I miss you, too.” She sighed. “But don’t you remember how much our jobs kept getting in our way?”
“Sure, I remember. I just don’t care. I’m tired of my job, Gwen. And I’m sick of how often it keeps me away from the people who matter most.”
She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her tone was soft and uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Are you saying you want to give this—us—another try?”
“I think I am,” he said, surprising himself. “Not like the last time, though. I don’t want to put our relationship a distant second to our careers.”
She paused a moment. “My life has been on the back burner for so long that I was beginning to thi
nk it had just evaporated. I’m ready for a change, too.”
He warmed at the thought of reconciliation. “And not to break my word eight seconds into this offer…” He chuckled. “But I won’t be able to come home to Washington for another few days at least.”
“Ah, and here I was hoping you’d be under my window with a guitar tonight.”
“Why? Do you like the sound of cats fighting?”
“Okay, no guitar.” She laughed. “But it would be nice to be in the same time zone.”
“Soon, Gwen.”
“Good.” Her tone turned professional. “Now tell me what’s the latest in France.”
“Gwen, we’ve traced the human cases back to a geologist and his glacier,” Noah said somberly.
“A glacier?” Gwen’s voice cracked with surprise. “That’s what this is all about?”
“We don’t know yet.” Noah told her about the traces of the prion found in Georges Manet’s ice sample and his connection to all the known victims. “There are still so many unanswered questions.”
“Like how did BSE break out simultaneously in cattle?”
“Among others, yes.”
“Noah, I’m thinking that as the Bug Czar maybe I actually have a professional reason to join you over there.”
“As tempting as the idea is, no, you don’t,” he said, almost regretting the words as they left his lips. “Let me finish up as fast as I can here. Then I’ll come home and we can start over.”
Gwen wasn’t swayed. “Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to create a smoke screen in that province. When they find out that you’re beginning to see through it…”
His guts tightened as he digested her warning. “It’s not only me, Gwen. The WHO and the E.U. are also involved. There’s protection in numbers.”
“Yes, but you told me that you don’t know how much you can trust the people on ‘your’ side.”
“I trust Jean. And Duncan.”
“Is Duncan back there with you?”
“Yes. Speaking of whom, I have to meet him downstairs.” He thought of Maggie’s illness. “Listen, Gwen, I am going to get Duncan to give you a call. There’s something you should hear from him.”
“Is he all right?” she asked, concerned.
“Be best if you heard it from him.”
“Hmmm.” Her dissatisfaction with his answer was obvious, but she didn’t press the point.
“I better get moving.”
“Go. But take care of yourself, Noah Haldane!” Shyness crept back into her tone. “I’ve got no else around here to sweep me off my feet.”
He pictured her animated green eyes and lip-biting smile. Without a second thought, he blurted, “I love you, Gwen,” as he hung up.
Noah felt a slight glow as he bounded out of bed and headed for the shower. He had no regrets about the conversation. He longed to be with Gwen again. His only concern was his daughter. Chloe loved Gwen, but she had only just adjusted to her absence. He would have to find a gentle way to reintroduce Gwen into her life.
For the first time in days, he headed to the lobby more preoccupied with personal than prion-related issues. When Noah entered the same restaurant that had provided most of his sustenance for the past week, he saw Elise and Duncan already seated in the corner table with coffee cups in their hands. For once, they appeared to be chatting amiably. She looked as lovely as ever in her black suit and white blouse, but after his conversation with Gwen, Elise’s looks were academic to him now, as if he were noticing a pretty woman on a passing bus.
Duncan wore a casual jacket and his hair was combed, but the layers of darkness under his eyes made him look more sleep-deprived than ever. Those eyes lit mischievously as Noah reached the table. “Ah, Haldane, I hope we’re not cutting too much into your vacation by getting you up at this ungodly hour. Were you planning on a porcelain factory tour after a wee lie-in and a buffet brunch?”
Noah smiled. “No, I thought today would be a pool day.”
“Wouldn’t be the least surprised.” Duncan laughed. “Shite, Haldane, expect a call from Satan any time now. That deal you signed with him must be coming due.”
Unamused, Elise glanced impatiently from Duncan to Noah. “I think we need to focus on the recent developments.”
“Agreed.” Duncan slurped his coffee. “Let’s talk killer glaciers.”
“One that could be almost anywhere in the Arctic,” Noah said.
Duncan nodded. “Yup, that’s the bugger.”
“So either we find Georges Manet or we decipher his referencing system,” Elise said flatly.
“Why not?” Duncan grunted. “And once we’ve done both, we’ll build a perpetual motion machine and find the lost continent of Atlantis in time for lunch.”
Before Elise could respond, Noah said, “We need to rush the analysis on the samples Georges stored in Jeremy Milton’s lab. That might help.”
“In fact, I spoke to Dr. Milton right before I came down here,” Elise said.
“Oh?” Noah frowned. “About?”
“Pauline Lamaire.”
“Who the hell is she?” Duncan asked.
“Georges Manet’s former fiancée,” Elise said. “I couldn’t reach Sylvie, so I tried Dr. Milton. He gave me Pauline’s name. She still lives in Montmagnon.” She frowned. “Or she did, until a week or so ago.”
“What does that mean?” Noah asked.
“I tried to phone her, but her line has been redirected to the Gendarmerie Limoges. Apparently she has been missing since last week.”
“Missing?!” Duncan slammed his cup on the table. “She’s probably with Georges.”
The knots tightened in Noah’s neck. “Why would Georges be with his ex-fiancée now? He was seeing Giselle Tremblay last summer. And his sister told us he hasn’t had a serious relationship in years.”
“So what’s your grand theory?” Duncan demanded.
“I don’t have one,” Noah said miserably. “But it’s another unexplained happening in this sleepy province that has already chewed through several lifetimes’ worth of coincidences.”
Duncan blew out his lips. “Another missing woman, too. Like that poor sod of a farmer whose wife disappeared on him.”
The comment tweaked Noah’s memory. Without a word, he dug in his pocket and pulled out his notebook. He flipped through the pages until he found the entry he was searching for.
“What is it, Noah?” Elise asked.
“The timing is all wrong….”
“How so?” Elise demanded.
“That farm!” Noah pointed to his own notes. “André Pereau told us that he bought the affected calves from Ferme d’Allaire in the ‘late spring,’ at least six months before they showed symptoms.”
“Shite, that’s right!” Duncan nodded. “If his cows were injected at the Allaire farm, they would have become sick much earlier.”
“Exactly,” Noah said. “Long before any people had shown symptoms from Georges’s water.”
Elise’s brow crinkled in bewilderment. “So the animals were never injected?”
Duncan broke into a small grin. “Or Pereau’s cows were injected somewhere other than the Allaire farm.”
Parked outside the rundown stone farmhouse in Terrebonne, Noah reached to open the car door, but Elise’s voice stopped him. “Shouldn’t we call Detective Avars before going any further?”
“Did you happen to notice the shape the fellow was in last time we were here?” Duncan said. “Standing upright was a challenge for him. I don’t think he poses a huge threat to us.”
Noah nodded. “We can’t waste any more time, Elise.”
Prickling with anticipation, Noah climbed out of the car and scanned the grounds, but they were as deserted as on their last visit. At the entry, Elise rapped on the old wooden door. After a few moments, the door opened. André Pereau looked thinner but, dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, he was clean-shaven with combed hair. Noah smelled only aftershave, no wine. “Ah, welcome back, mes amis,” Pereau sai
d pleasantly.
He led them into the common room, which, unlike on their previous visit, was clean and without an empty bottle in sight. Duncan surveyed the room and nodded his approval. “How long have you been dry?” he asked.
Pereau shrugged. “Four days.”
“A long four days, I’m sure.” Duncan smiled. “Has your wife come home?”
“Not yet.”
Duncan nodded kindly. “Have you found her, then?”
“In Amsterdam.”
“Why would she go to Holland in January?” Duncan asked. “Why would anyone?”
“She went with another man,” Pereau said.
“Oh.” Duncan nodded sympathetically.
“I can’t blame her,” Pereau continued without a trace of anger or embarrassment. “It was a stressful time for her here. Those last months I spent more time with the bottle than with Yvette.”
Noah noticed the slight tremor in Pereau’s hands and recognized the signs of alcohol withdrawal. He wondered if Pereau’s sudden sobriety was spurred by the hope of winning his wife back. Duncan reached out and patted Pereau on the shoulder. “Sometimes, even humans make better company than the bottle.”
Pereau grinned sadly. “I miss her.”
Elise spoke up. “M. Pereau, we need to ask a few more questions about your cattle.”
The farmer led them back to the worn chairs they had sat in before. His face clouded with an expression of utter defeat. “I have nothing left to tell you.”
“There are some inconsistencies in the timing of this outbreak,” Elise said.
Pereau shrugged.
“When exactly did you take possession of those cows from Ferme d’Allaire?” she asked.
“Same as every year.” Pereau sighed. “The first week of June.”
“And the first sign of illness in the animals?” Noah asked.
“Not until the middle of December.”
“Six months.” Noah shook his head. “That’s way too long.”
Pereau frowned. “Too long for what? I do not understand.”
“We don’t think tainted cattle feed made your animals sick,” Noah said.
