‘We were nearly finished with the harvest. There were only two workers left at the farm. A traveller and a young female student. She was English, and working in France to improve her understanding of the language. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair, and…and I am ashamed to say I…I let Satan into our lives. I gave in to temptation.’
He laid his hands flat on the table. ‘I loved my wife, I think I still do, but I was flattered that this girl found me attractive, and I should have been stronger, but I wasn’t. She led me from the house to the hay barn and we made love. It sounds stupid now, but it was exciting. I felt guilty afterwards, and I told her to go. I was worried that she would tell my wife, so I paid her the rest of her wages and I watched her pack and leave. I returned to the house, and watched television until my wife returned from her class. I was sure she would smell the girl’s perfume on me, but she didn’t notice. She went upstairs to change and to check on our daughter, and that’s when she screamed. My daughter was not in her bed. My wife asked where she was, and I could not say. I was afraid that maybe my daughter had seen what I had done in the barn, and had run away. She was six years-old.’
He closed his eyes. ‘We searched the house and the hay barn, but we could not find her. I called the neighbouring farms, but they had not seen her. Two of my friends came over, and we headed to the fields with torches, calling her name, but as dawn broke, there was still no sign of her. My wife called the police nationale, and they began to search the neighbouring farms too, but she could not be found. There was no sign of a break-in, but her favourite teddy was gone, so we assumed she had run away. When she was still not back after three days, the police suspected something bad may have happened to her, and suddenly I was their chief suspect. They interviewed me for days and days, but I kept telling them I had not hurt my daughter. How could they suspect me of doing that? I told the police about the girl in the barn, but they could not locate her to verify my story. So, I was the only person in the house where my daughter was last seen, so I must have killed her. This is what they said, and this is what my neighbours thought, but it was not true.’
‘But I thought you said your daughter lived with your wife.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I have not seen my daughter in fifteen years, but it is not through choice.’
‘But you were released. I mean, I wouldn’t have met you if you were in prison.’
He stared off into the distance. ‘Eventually, they had to arrest me, as they could not find her body. I knew they suspected me of killing her, but I knew I hadn’t. I had left the door to the house unlocked, so it was possible that she had wandered out, but it was also possible that someone had come in for her. I tried to find the student, but she was long gone, probably back to England. My wife was in pieces. She didn’t know whether to suspect me or not. I do not blame her for ending the marriage. It would have been impossible for us to live together with such doubt hanging over us. When I told her about the affair, she fell apart. It was then that I learned the gypsy boy had left the same night as the girl. My wife had assumed the pair had left together to go travelling or something. I hadn’t realised he had gone until that moment, which was maybe ten days after my daughter had disappeared. I began to search for the young man. I knew that he was a gypsy, so I searched the camps in Normandy, and then the neighbouring cities like Caen and Rennes. After two weeks, I found him working at another farm. He started running the second he saw me, and I knew in that instant that he was the one.’
‘Did you tell the police?’
His eyes remained fixed on the wall. ‘I chased after him, and eventually I caught him. He thought I was going to kill him. I drove him back to the farm and I threatened him until he told me the truth.’ He buried his head in his hands, and his shoulders gently rocked.
Becky wondered if Durand was recording their conversation, or listening in at the very least. She was uncertain about the French law when it came to the admissibility of key evidence at trial. What she did know was that it was Durand’s responsibility to determine Antoine’s guilt before any trial would proceed. She could picture Durand and his men gathered around a tiny speaker eagerly scribbling notes of the confession.
She passed Antoine a tissue, and he blew his nose. ‘Merci.’
‘What happened next, Antoine?’
‘He told me that he came to the house to tell me he was planning to move on. He couldn’t find me inside, but saw a light on in the barn, and assumed I must have been fixing the engine on the tractor. As he approached he heard us…you know…so he returned to the house to leave me a note. As he was writing it, my daughter walked into the kitchen asking for me. He told her I had gone out, but that he would take her to me. I think he was planning to sell her or something, but she started to complain as they got further from the house. He lost his temper and shouted at her, and she started to run back to the house. It was dark, and she slipped and banged her head on a rock. When he found her she was already dead. I demanded to know what he had done with her body, and he said he had carried her down to the river, and buried her. I forced him to take me there, and he showed me a small wooden cross in the ground, where he had buried her. I made him dig her out with his fingers. I recognised her pyjamas immediately, and I fell to my knees and wept.’
TWENTY-FOUR
Becky felt the sting of tears in her own eyes, as Antoine continued.
‘I cradled her, willing God to bring her back to life, but she was so cold. I knew that he had punished me for adultery in the worst possible way. As I looked at my precious daughter’s lifeless body, I saw that there was blood on her pyjama bottoms. It was in a strange place, not consistent with a bang to the head. The student must have known I had noticed it, as he started to run again. I gently laid her down and I chased after him. I knew then that he had lied about the reason he had taken her. I don’t really remember what happened next. I remember running until I thought I would pass out. I remember jumping at him and hauling him to the floor, and I remember the large rock in my hand…I eventually dragged his body back to the riverside, and I buried him next to my daughter’s grave. I knew that God had taken her from me because of the adultery, but he had also given me the chance to avenge the vicious attack on her innocent life.’
Becky wiped her cheeks. ‘Did you take her body to the police?’
He shook his head. ‘I did not want my wife to know that our daughter’s last view was the man raping her. I thought it was best for her to hold on to the hope that our daughter might still be alive out there. I know now that I was wrong. I have seen the living nightmare that your friend is experiencing, and I have forced my ex-wife to live that way for fifteen years. It is time to tell the truth and let her grieve properly.’
‘Do you know where Noah is?’
‘I wish I did. I wish I could end the nightmare for you, but I promise you, I had nothing to do with his disappearance.’
‘But Durand said…the telephone call…’
‘I saw my picture in the newspaper this morning. I think maybe when I drove you and your friend from the press conference yesterday, one of the photographers must have taken the photo. I wondered how my former friends would react if they recognised me. I assume that one of them, or maybe my ex-wife called Durand’s office and told them about my missing daughter. Even though the police released me fifteen years ago, I think everyone still thought I was guilty. This is why I am not welcome at my brother’s house. He is a good man, but his wife fears for her children’s lives. My nephew and niece do not know their Uncle Antoine. I think the only reason my brother agrees to meet me once a week, is because he feels guilty. He wants to believe I am innocent, but he doubts it. With our parents dead, he is the only family I have, so he cannot turn his back on me. Maybe it was Étienne’s wife who phoned Durand, I do not know. It does not matter now. I have told the truth. My daughter was taken from me fifteen years ago, and now the world will know why.’
‘Antoine, I don’t know what to say -’
; ‘You should not pity me. I brought God’s vengeance on myself by giving in to temptation that night. Had I remained loyal to my wife, then my daughter would still be alive today. I have had to live with that guilt ever since, and I am tired now. I need to face up to my responsibilities and accept the punishment which will come to me. I have been lucky to have lived in the real world since my crime.’
‘Given the circumstances, and what the victim showed you, maybe Durand will be lenient.’
‘I don’t deserve leniency. I killed a man, and I kept my daughter’s murder a secret for a long time. I am ready to face God’s wrath. I just wish I could have helped you and your friend find Noah.’
Becky placed her hand over his. ‘I know you don’t want my pity, but you have my empathy. I want you to know that I believe every word you just said, and I don’t believe you deserve to go to prison for what you have done. If I was licenced to practise law over here, I would make it my life’s work to fight for you.’
‘I do not want a lawyer. I have nothing to hide, and I want whatever punishment I am due.’
‘Even so, everybody is entitled to a fair defence. I don’t know if provocation is still used in your courts, but I think it could be easily argued here. I’ll speak to Durand on my way out.’
‘Please. Non. Don’t do that. There is something else I needed to say to you.’ He paused. ‘I had a dream last night. I was back at the hypermarché, and I was standing at the guard station, when the boy and his abductor approached. I did not get to see his face properly, and I don’t think I can rely on a dream to describe his face. But, it triggered a memory. When the boy walked past me on Saturday, I heard him say something. A name I think. I think he called the man by this name.’
‘What name?’
‘Badar or Bahadur, or something like this. Does the name mean anything to you?’
Becky shook her head. ‘Did you hear it in the dream or on Saturday?’
‘It was in the dream, but I think maybe I heard it then too. You should mention it to Durand. Maybe it is the name of someone they know, or can find. I’m sorry, I wish there was more I could do. Yesterday, I promised you I would not stop helping you find Noah, but now I have failed you. I will pray for the boy’s safe return. I am not sure God will listen to a sinner like me, but I will try.’
Becky stood, and looked at him. He was a broken man, but there was something peaceful about him too; like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. She walked around the table and hugged his head in thanks for the help he had provided in the brief time they’d known each other.
Durand met her outside of the room, and offered to drive her back to the hotel. The car journey was undertaken in absolute silence, and when they arrived, he gave her his packet of cigarettes, telling her she needed them more than him.
She waited until he’d driven away, before heading into the hotel. The sun was low in the sky on the horizon, and Julia would probably be frantic with worry as Becky had been out all day. But she didn’t race up to their room. Instead she headed for the bar, and the veranda beyond it.
TWENTY-FIVE
He stares through the binoculars at the docked cargo ship. Despite the darkness of the sky, the ship’s contents are bathed in artificial light. There are still more than a thousand large metal containers to be unloaded. From this distance they look like Lego blocks. There are more than a dozen men swarming the ship like ants on a discarded sandwich. Each has a specific role to play in the operation: most are involved in the removal and depositing of the crates. The giant claw reminds him of one of those arcade games he played as a child; he never did manage to win a teddy.
The man who let him in is down there somewhere too. He is the one who has been paid to rubber stamp the container’s safe arrival at the docks in Southampton.
He’d met the dock auditor in a bar near Winchester. Hesbani had arranged it all. The items had been in Germany, waiting to be shipped to the UK. Hesbani had told him the docker was called Chas and could be trusted.
He’d been reluctant to allow anybody else to be involved in smuggling the goods in, but Hesbani had offered personal reassurances that the mission would go as planned. ‘Go to the bar, pay Chas the fee, and he’ll give you VIP seats to the crate’s arrival. I’ve used him dozens of times. Have faith.’
Chas had arrived at the bar late, dressed in long shorts and a football shirt. He was a giant of a man, standing at well over six feet, but it was his girth that made him resemble Hagrid in the Harry Potter films. His neck alone, was as thick as a tree trunk, and the scraggly shoulder-length hair did nothing to improve the appearance.
‘What’s in the container?’ Chas had asked, his Australian accent resonating.
‘Does it matter? That’s my business.’
‘I prefer to know, mate. I’d hate to be helping start a revolution.’
‘It’s sex toys,’ he’d said quickly. ‘You know: dildos, inflatable dolls, that kind of thing. All very perverted, but where there’s a market…’
Chas had grinned in embarrassment. ‘That’s alright then. You really make a profit out of shit like that?’
‘What can I say? There are some fucked up people in the world.’
‘I hear that, mate!’
He’d handed Chas the satchel of money, and in return, Chas had slapped a laminated pass and lanyard on the table. ‘You’ll need this. It’ll get you through the gate. You won’t have any trouble. Get there for one a.m. and you should get straight through.’
He’d listened carefully, surprised to see a copy of his passport photo on the pass.
Chas noticed him eyeing it. ‘Hesbani supplied the image. Don’t worry, mate. We do this all the time.’
He’d left shortly after. Chas had stayed behind, drinking.
He looks at his watch. It is nearly midnight and he hasn’t seen the signal that the crate has been passed as cleared. He can’t shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong. He imagines the crate being inspected, and then a swarm of blue lights and police officers descending on his position in the office. He knows he’s being paranoid, and that he will have to repeat this process in the other locations over the coming days. He isn’t sure he will ever get used to this level of duplicity.
He wasn’t in Germany when the items were placed into the container, so he can only assume it all went to plan. Karen was overseeing that part of the operation. He doesn’t trust her. She claims to share the same goals, but there is something not right about her. Whether it is the fact her grandfather served in Hitler’s Third Reich, or whether it is the ease at which she transforms from seductress to hard-nosed bitch, there is something. She has betrayed him once already, and it is only a matter of time until she does it again. He will get his revenge, and she won’t see it coming.
He checks his watch again. Once he is finished here, he has a flight booked for France to oversee the arrival of the next package. It is going to be a long day.
The radio crackles to life. ‘Your crate is next, mate. It’ll be moved from the ship to the storage deck, until this batch have been inspected. As soon as I’ve passed it, it will be loaded onto a lorry, and moved to the exit barrier. You can collect it from there. There is a baseball cap and some overalls in the office. Put them on. Keep your head down, as the exit is covered in cameras. You should be out of here in the next forty minutes.’
He spots the clothes hanging from the back of the door. This wasn’t part of the plan, but he is too invested to argue. He stares through the binoculars again. There is a blue container in the air. Its contents are known to only a handful of people. If Chas changes his mind and decides to inspect the container, he will not pass it. There are no dildos, or inflatable dolls. The box with the ‘Hazardous Warning’ sign will set alarm bells off. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what a plutonium core is going to be used for. If Chas knew what he was really smuggling, he wouldn’t be anywhere near it.
TWENTY-SIX
DAY FOUR
‘Do you want a cup of tea, Bex?’
Becky groaned from beneath the blanket.
‘Are you alright, sweetie?’
Becky forced a thumb out and pointed it skywards. She wasn’t ready for conversation yet.
‘What you need is a shower and some breakfast. That’ll fix you up.’
Becky pushed back the blanket. ‘Why are you so chipper this morning?’
‘Because it’s better than the alternative. I’ve spent too long sitting around and moping. I need to change. I need to be more positive. That’s the only way I’m going to get Noah back. I spent all day locked inside this room, and I’m not prepared to stay hidden.’
Becky had eventually returned to the room at nine o’clock, having spent two hours drinking alone out on the hotel’s small terrace. She’d known she should have invited Julia to join her, but she’d needed time to process what Antoine had told her: not only had he lied to them about why he wanted to help their search, he’d also confessed to killing a man. How could she break that news to Julia sober?
Then He Was Gone Page 10
