As the tears flowed, he held her tightly, not wanting her to leave.
“The stream was her favourite place on our farm, quiet, like this...” She paused and gazed into the distance, searching for something. “Here, there’s a vixen that comes and somehow reminds me of our time together.”
“I understand. Life throws out random reminders of the past, even if it’s painful, it can help us remember, and help us to stand firm. We have to face those old scars.”
Am I saying too much? But it all feels like a release. It’s time to confront all our demons, with a partner who understands.
She grasped his hand. Her touch was firm but comforting; like holding her in his arms.
“You were brave going back to France. I know.”
“Yes, seeing the Duchesnes was hard, but when Gilles bought Wanda, I knew it would happen.”
“Their daughter? You were...very close and...”
“I loved Odette more than anyone. She is part of me forever.”
The urge to say more was becoming a necessity.
“Can I ask what happened? I feel she’s your loss and–”
Her phone rang.
“Hi, Gilles... I'm with Loup. He needed to talk, but we’re coming back. Bye, honey.”
She kissed Armand on both cheeks and gazed deeply into his eyes.
“We can talk going back or whenever you feel ready, Loup.”
He returned her kisses, but he no longer felt he could talk about Odette.
“Soon, when the time is right. Thank you, Vix. You’re special.”
*
Most of the windows of the farmhouse were open, letting in a breeze that cooled some of the anger churning through Carly, who was ready for an early night. She pushed the office chair back, having noted that the diary was blank—no appointments.
Gilles was stretched out on the sofa in the den, but he would hear.
“Why do you need to go back to Fenburgh? Can’t Vecheech’s lawyer handle this without you?”
“I’m sorry, babe. I’m their equestrian manager over here, plus I have a share in Drac and Wanda.”
“Make Roman come here. He castrated Pin and had Odette killed. Don’t go, please. We can’t trust him.”
“Her death was just an accident; the autopsy proved that. A lot of Papa’s anger is a bluff.”
She slammed the office door shut and strode into the snug, dropping onto the sofa where Gilles was.
“If he’s so concerned about the horses then he can come to Hazelmead and see that the horses are better off here.”
“That will only make him demand a greater share—again.”
“He’s the one that undervalued Wanda and Drac, not us.”
“Yes. Anyway, I need my junk at Fenburgh, like the rest of the research material that Vecheech bought... plus Boissard bloodline info.”
Carly put her arms around him.
“Okay, then I’ll come with you. You don’t want to be alone at the beach hut, and we had a great time there...”
“Tempting, except we have six horses to get ready for the Eridge event at the weekend. I don’t think Loup can do everything on his own.”
“Then we go to Fenburgh and get home in time to win. Simple.” Easier, as Carly would prefer to avoid a repeat of their last wild night at the hut—skinny-dipping had lost its appeal. Nightmares about Gilles and Lina had replaced the fantasies.
“You need rest, not a long tiring day dealing with Papa.”
And another thing still niggled about the Vecheech deal.
“I will when I know what happened to Wanda’s foals. They disappeared on Sunday, while I was competing at Borde Hill. Was that why you came home, and Lina was so angry?”
His hand began exploring, trying to distract her.
“Umm—can’t this wait? I’ve a better idea.” She pinched him, and he said, “Okay, the foals have gone to one of Vecheech’s Canadian studs, far away from Papa.”
“Yes, but where?”
His fingers were straying into her silk pyjamas, exploring beneath the last reminder of luxury; soon to be discarded if Gilles had his way again.
“Well, you remember our journey across the plains... into the mountains... down to a beautiful forested haven...”
She pushed him away and stood up.
“Evasive as ever. You’ll have to do better than that. I’m going to bed. When you’re finally ready to confess everything, about Lina, Vecheech, your plans... well, I might let you back then. Sleep well on the couch.”
FORTY-ONE
The two Wolfdogs were the same build and size as Mistico. Would they behave the same way? Mistico had been well trained, as Lina had devoted a lot of time and patience. Armand catapulted out the drugged meat more in hope than expectation.
Staying downwind in the shadows, he moved farther round the house, to a spot opposite the most overgrown corner, close to a balcony.
The dogs were either well trained or well fed as they ignored the meat and locked onto Armand. Their loping run and low howls might have scared a casual intruder, but Armand reached into his haversack.
The lead animal was ten metres away and circled, so its partner would catch him first. She closed to within three metres and was about to pounce when he pressed the button on his electronic dog repeller. It emitted a high frequency, accompanied by an LED flashing strobe. The female crawled away confused and blinded, but the male held its ground.
Training and aggression overrode discomfort and blindness. It prepared to attack, scissor teeth bared. Armand adjusted his stance, and as the dog leapt, he thrust his pack towards the animal. Its teeth clamped onto the fabric. Armand’s right foot swung towards its chest, while his flattened left palm sliced at its head.
Stunned by this counter-attack, the dog failed to stop Armand’s gloved hands grasping its neck. His thumbs pressed the carotid arteries depriving the dog of blood and therefore oxygen. Within seconds the animal went limp, and Armand let it fall before it was dead. Hopefully, he had deterred it from attacking again when it awoke, and he returned, as would the female.
Lax security was not one of Mick’s failings, so Armand checked for sensors as he approached the house and placed an electronic decoy in the bushes. It would imitate a dog’s heat signature and distract the nearest sensors from him; the rest were focused farther away.
Using a grapnel launcher, he attached a line to the balcony. He scaled the wall and swung onto the ledge of a window, which was ajar, so he eased it open. Inside was a corridor with a light at one end, possibly a stairwell.
Edging towards the glow, he watched for signs of internal cameras or sensors, especially on and above the flight of wooden stairs that led down to another corridor. With his infrared laser, he blinded the micro-camera covering the stairwell before disabling the sensors across his path.
Downstairs, he moved towards the front of the house, searching for a study or office. A brass lock and a keypad on an oak door were as good as a nameplate. He scanned for the passcode with his modified smartphone and punched it in, unlocking the bolts. The brass lock was pure show.
Inside, any sensors, motion detectors or cameras had been de-activated when he entered the code. Dark panelling, roll-top bureau and a Chesterfield contrasted with the computer array in the bay window—the anticipated access to Vidarranj.
He linked the smartphone into the network, bypassing the firewalls and security codes using the Hareng Rouge software that Natalie had given him at Saumur. The smartphone was set to access the files and copy them, via Mick’s wireless setup, to the Zoos’ external data store in France. A glance at the files showed he might have the evidence to link some of his suspects, although references to a breeding project would need careful study at home.
He left the smartphone downloading while he searched the rest of the room. The bureau opened easily, exposing a box file. It was the research material that Lina had mislaid and contained labelled CDs for every horse in her care at Fenburgh, including Wanda, and a CD about Carly. There was no sig
n of any samples, although he suspected Vidarranj had what they needed from Boissard Équestre.
Intentionally or not, Lina’s a major player in this breeding project.
Time was now against him, as Mick should be home in half an hour. Armand checked the bureau’s drawers and found a hidden compartment. Stashed away were dozens of mobile phone SIM cards and a device he recognised. Mick had the means to send delayed text messages from multiple mobiles; perfect for sending cryptic and misleading messages to Carly or anyone else.
Once the software had loaded its Trojan onto Mick’s computer, he disconnected the smartphone. He suspected not all the files were on this hard drive and Vidarranj's mainframe. He might need to follow up on this night’s work, but without entering any premises.
I pray Hareng Rouge will unlock the right doors as Natalie intended when she created it.
In the files downloaded, he had proof Mick was involved in an illegal horse cloning operation in which Lina had a significant role. However, whatever Vecheech had acquired was incomplete so that she could hold the key.
How far has Lina betrayed us all? What more can she do and when? If Odette stumbled on her involvement with the cloning, that would be another reason for Lina to kill my poor cousin.
FORTY-TWO
Carly was pacing across the kitchen, shaking her head.
“Damn Gilles. Why the hell does he do this to me?”
“Because his priority is himself. Be strong, like I know you can.”
“What if Roman or Mick did something, after the meeting?”
It was a possibility. The files from Mick’s office indicated thousands of dollars invested in the biotech-driven breeding project that confirmed the Duchesnes’s suspicions. The creation of super horses for select clients through advanced techniques was cutting edge animal science. However, he needed to reassure Carly.
“Unlikely, after they made threats demanding the horses back or compensation in front of Vecheech’s lawyer.”
“Except that it’s been ten hours since he rang, and he hadn’t recovered the missing sections of Lina’s damn research. He could have gone back.”
Armand poured two more mugs of coffee.
“He knows Vecheech can get them—unless Lina lied.”
“Typical, the cow’s two-faced. Lina will do anything to get him back. It’s a trap—she set him up. I bet there are no missing files...”
Should Armand tell her what he had discovered? The hacked data had proved that Mick or Roman had returned the originals, probably in the briefcase he had seen at Fenburgh. But that still left enough time for Mick to make copies, and Gilles would want those if he couldn’t access the original research.
Carly continued with her accusations.
“Shit, it had to be her and that serpent Mick. She pretends to dislike him while using me.”
“Slow down, Vix, are you suggesting—”
“—that they did something to Gilles? Totally. Mick has a sadistic streak and is as manipulative as she is.”
He took a mouthful of his coffee, realising this might fit. Carly sounded dramatic, but he needed to profile Mick.
“Sadistic enough to do what?”
“Weird shit... in bed... with whips and handcuffs... real embarrassing when it got out of hand.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh, so he shook his head instead. Not a killer, except in bed.
“Bastard nearly destroyed me. I dumped Mick when I discovered that he was with another woman—a slut willing to do anything.”
“Makes it easier to dismiss a guy like that. Although, he could still be dangerous.”
“The horses never liked him, nor did Guinness. The only dogs who adored him were his damn wolf-dogs and Mistico.”
“Do you think Lina already knew Mick?” he asked, although unwilling to make them conspirators because of their canine choices.
But then, Lina is a manipulator, and Carly knows that.
“The snake must have known him, and before Fenburgh perhaps. Maybe he somehow visited Canada—and Du Noroît.”
If Mick was in Québec, he could have murdered Odette, and Gilles might be in danger.
As he picked up the phone, he asked Carly, “When did you last try Gilles?”
“Before you came over. Do you think Lina and Mick... murdered him?”
“Lost his mobile more likely,” said Armand although aware of the possibility. “You said he was going jet skiing when he reached the beach hut, and there’s no landline.”
Armand put an arm around her, but he failed to quell the fear undermining their reason.
“He could have crashed the jet ski,” said Carly.
“Not Gilles, he’s too good—”
“—yes, but another idiot could have hit him. Please, Loup, ring the police. He could be injured...or even dead.”
He held her face and her stare, still reaching for an explanation that didn’t entail murder.
“In the morning, if he hasn’t rung. It’s midnight and he could be out celebrating after standing up to Roman and Mick.”
“So, you don’t think he's dead? Instead the witch Lina has found him and caused more problems. Shit, that’s her revenge.”
FORTY-THREE
At least the horses were some distraction, but Carly was still distraught. Armand recognised the symptoms, having lived with them for so long. Carly kept dwelling on what could have happened.
Five hours earlier, Vecheech’s lawyer had not heard or seen from Gilles since the meeting. Nobody else at Vecheech had spoken to him for days.
Roman had been unhelpful, saying, “The ungrateful boy was way out of order yesterday. Maybe he annoyed my friend Harfang, so he dealt with him.”
With that, he had put the phone down.
Armand needed Carly to concentrate on the positives, like the horses, so he had only told her Roman was merely abusive and unhelpful.
She had insisted he ask the police to visit the beach hut and they had agreed to check, officially, as Gilles was now missing.
With the horses exercised, Armand had cooked omelettes for lunch, and Carly had fallen asleep beside him on the sofa.
The phone rang, and he answered it before it woke Carly.
“Mr Sabatier. This is Constable Goodwin, Wells-next-the-Sea, we checked Mr Boissard’s hut. There were signs he had been there, but he is not there now.”
“And the car, his Subaru Outback?”
“No sign of that, but it should be nearby as we found a jet ski that could be his. It was washed up nearby, possibly crashed, as there were signs of a fire, although there was nothing to show that anybody was injured. The coastguard is checking—routine. ”
“I'll come up to the beach and see. Tell me where to find you please, Constable.”
When the policeman ended the call, Armand was uneasy. Had Gilles been killed? Another convenient accident?
His body and 4x4 will turn up, but I must act. Who’ll be next? Carly?
In his mind, he saw a silver shaft flash towards the Jet Ski; a thermite charge exploded, throwing Gilles into the sea.
*
Carly had insisted on going. Gilles was her partner; she had to be there, whatever they discovered. Her heart needed him alive, despite his affair with Lina.
On the speakerphone in the car, the lawyer was saying, “He gave me a sealed envelope, for me to open in case of his death.”
She stared at the cold sea. The envelope seemed too calculated to be Gilles.
“We don’t know he’s dead.”
“Of course not, then I will postpone opening it. Keep me informed. I will update Monsieur Harfang as instructed.”
“By whom? By Gilles?”
“Yes, Monsieur Boissard instructed me to ensure Monsieur Harfang was apprised of everything since I represent Vecheech Enterprises in these affairs.”
Carly said goodbye. Gilles trusted Patrick Harfang, so someone else had made him disappear. He had to be alive. Was that a gut feeling, or because she needed him?
> “Loup, where do you think Gilles is? Is he hiding... from Roman?”
Armand's eyes were focused on the road, as they closed on their destination near Wells-next-the-Sea. He said nothing, but she noted his drawn face and the tears glazing his eyes.
“You think he’s dead, don't you? Who did it? Roman? Or that snake Lina?”
“I don’t know. Gilles could be alive still.”
It was a glimmer of comfort, like the evening sun sparkling on the sea. But why wasn’t he contacting her then? He could send her a message at least; especially now when she needed to focus on the horses. Torc and Wanda were back in work, which meant commitment and priorities, including Bramham in only nine days.
She needed Gilles, and he needed her—simple. Or maybe he didn’t—maybe Lina had stolen him again.
*
The sun stained the 4x4 and its trailer red. Even the sand bled the hue, which coloured Carly’s fears, and the policeman’s words.
“Everything matches the descriptions you gave us. Mr Boissard seems to have left the hut and driven here with the Jet Ski, and then he launched it over there. We just need to establish where the Jet Ski crashed.”
Armand pointed back along the beach. “But, there must be more fingerprints in the hut or the car? Was he alone?”
“There is no evidence to justify the expense of a detailed investigation. Our resources must be strictly allocated. Funds are always tight and...”
Carly's thoughts echoed Armand as she said, “Surely if a man goes missing then...”
“…we wait, but the coastguards are looking. Mr Boissard may have been swept out to sea by the undertow here. He could still turn up, in a hospital perhaps. This has happened before. Some people even fake their death to–”
“Not Gilles, I know him. No way he would.”
“Mr Roman Boissard thinks otherwise, and suggested his son was running away from his business failures.”
“Damn him. Roman is the one that caused all the problems. Did he tell you what he did to one of the stallions? Probably not.”
The constable stared at her.
“No, but he was very helpful and concerned about his son’s health.”
Spiral of Hooves Page 16
