I promised to do just that. Once again, I noticed how strong his Irish accent became when he was out of his bishop role. It seemed much more authentic, and I liked him all the better for it.
‘OK, Caro, so we go back to England. Most animals can be enticed from their lairs with food, but somehow, I don’t think a bowl of pasta piselli left by the door would snare him. We’ve got the bishop back on side, though, and Franco will certainly know we’ve made a move. If only we could speak to him.’
‘What about a nice strong fish stew? No, seriously, we have something much more enticing than food: the journal and the copies of the parchments for starters, and we need to look at the documents that Merry found. It’s probably too much to ask, but they may well be the ones that Hortense mentioned. Or they might give us a clue as to where else to look. We need to have a quick check up on my house and Hortense’s cottage, make sure that both are properly secured, and speak to Niort to tell him we’re leaving. You can say that you have work to attend to, and I’m coming with you for a break after the death of our aunt. He can’t prevent us from going, can he?’
‘I don’t think so. I’ll call him now and book our flights. I’ll ask Arnaud for a lift to the airport, or we can always get the train from town. I’m glad I’ve got a car here, though. We didn’t need the survival stuff I put in the boot in the end, which is something, I suppose. I’m not as hardy as I used to be, and I didn’t really fancy sleeping on a damp cave floor.’
‘Don’t speak too soon. We haven’t left yet!’
I called the airline and booked our flights for the following afternoon. Arnaud declared himself to be at our service for the drive up, and I put some money in an envelope for the petrol and his time. I left a message for Niort, leaving my telephone number and address in England, although no doubt he could get these easily enough for himself. Then I called the bishop, who announced that he was on the same flight back and insisted on his driver taking us home from the airport, which would save us a lot of time and effort. I protested a little through politeness, but soon gave in and thanked him.
* * *
It was nearly one when we got into the car, my rifle on the back seat covered with a coat. As I drove up the steep road, I noticed a white car pull out from a lay-by. From his position and with binoculars, he would have had a clear view of the house. Clearly, we were still under surveillance, but by whom?
‘We’ve got a tail, Caro.’
‘Oh no, not again. It’s all becoming so tedious.’
I looked in the mirror, and the driver raised his hand a little in acknowledgement. I could see his face clearly, and recognised him straight away as Black Coat from England.
‘It’s OK, it’s Black Coat minus the black coat, but in a black shirt instead, and glasses. What a relief.’
I thought for a moment.
‘Dearest sister of mine, because of our personal bodyguard, I am going to treat you to lunch at the Jardin de Marie. I haven’t eaten there for ages, and the food’s great. We deserve a treat.’ The Jardin de Marie was an outdoor restaurant opposite Villa Bethany, the house that Saunière had built, but never lived in.
‘Are you sure the moths in your wallet can survive the cost? We wouldn’t want to traumatise the poor things, Benoît. In fact, I’m surprised that your trouser pocket isn’t torn with the weight of them all. They must have become a national collection by now. Perhaps I should pay?’
It was good to be teased again, and so soon after our laughing fit yesterday. Was it too premature to hope that things might return to normal in the very near future? I was desperate for the freedom that ‘normality’ would bring. It was hard to believe that so much had happened over the past couple of weeks. I suspected that the future held many more changes for me, but I could face this wholeheartedly if I knew that we were both safe and not being terrorised by a gang of murderous thugs.
* * *
We checked Hortense’s cottage and walked quickly to the restaurant. It was busy, but there was an empty table set under the trees, which we quickly claimed. The owner took our order and whilst we waited we looked around.
‘I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be free. Thank goodness for Black Coat.’
I could see his car from here, and ours in the car park. He was nowhere to be seen, but was hopefully lurking about somewhere.
‘I’ve had an idea. Have you got a piece of paper in that sack you carry around with you? It’s a wonder you don’t have a curvature of the spine with its enormous weight.’
‘It is a little heavy, granted, but which one of us has the paper that is currently so badly needed?’
I conceded to this point as the paper and a pen were passed over. On it I wrote:
F, we are going back to England tomorrow. AD on our side.
AH is there. Can you help? Please contact. BB.
I showed it to her. ‘We’ll stick it under his wipers and wait until he picks it up. I can’t believe that Franco intends to stay in hiding forever and, I suspect, that like us, he fully intends to turn the tables sometime soon. He’ll be armed, I’m guessing, so at least he’ll be a match for Harcourt, but personally I’d like to finish him off by something other than a bullet.’
‘What with the bishop’s cricket bat, Bill’s walking stick, my lead-filled handbag and your most likely weapon, which would be a bag of food from the nearest deli in one hand and a glass of vintage prosecco in the other, I would say that we had a distinct advantage.’
We both started to laugh again, but before it descended any further, she spoke, a much sterner look on her face.
‘If we want to frighten him off for good we need to be much smarter than he is. We certainly don’t want to be involved in a murder. There must be another way.’
At this point our food arrived. We had both ordered cassoulet, and were silent for the next ten minutes until we had wiped our plates clean with the last bits of bread.
‘That was delicious… I could eat here every day. In fact, I might just do that, and no washing up afterwards! Shall we have a quick coffee and get going?’
I slipped the note under the wiper blades of Black Coat’s car and we drove to the exit to wait and see if he picked it up when he got back. That was exactly what happened, and we watched for a second whilst he read it, put it in his pocket, and started the engine. Stopping at Caro’s house, she went inside to get a few things and I checked all the windows. With the alarm reset we were soon on our way to Antugnac, our white tail closely behind us.
* * *
Back in the house, we tidied up, packed cases for tomorrow, and put together a box of unused food to give to Mathilde and Arnaud. It was early evening before we both sat down at the table with our laptops and a glass of wine apiece. I skimmed through the unread emails, deleting them as I went or writing quick replies to those that required it. There was nothing from Merry, and I was about to exit when a new message came through. There was no heading, and when I clicked on it, there was just one line.
I hope there’s room for two more in the graveyard. Start digging.
I showed it to Caro. ‘There’s no address to reply to, and really, it’s more disturbing than frightening, and so very juvenile; I’ve no doubt that it’s from Harcourt. He’s sounds seriously unhinged, and is behaving like a second-rate TV gangster, never mind a Templar. It’s pathetic, and his ancestors would be thoroughly ashamed of him.’
‘He really is pathetic, in every sense of the word, but we need to use that to our advantage, although I’m not quite sure how at this point.’
For the first time in days, I switched on the TV, which we watched with calm oblivion for a few hours before going to bed.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Arnaud was at the door at nine-thirty the following morning and, within an hour, we had arrived at Carcassonne Airport. The bishop was already there and waved as we wa
lked through to the departure lounge. With a coffee apiece, we sat and discussed general plans, and the bishop told us about Narbonne. He had lived there for a few years in the eighties, and was particularly enamoured with the beautiful cathedral, and the Languedoc in general.
On the plane, our seats were several rows apart, so we didn’t speak much whilst in the air, but several hours later we found ourselves in the back of his large, comfortable car. The whole journey seemed remarkably quick and easy, and although we knew there were difficult times ahead, it felt good to be facing our problems rather than hiding from them.
‘It’s very important that you let me know where you are at every moment throughout the day. A simple text will do, even one every hour, then if trouble hits I’ll know where you were heading.’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’
‘I think he’ll try to separate you, and then use blackmail. That’s what you need to be most wary of. He wants the journal and the copies of the parchments, in the hope that one or the other will lead him to the originals. I don’t think the copies are much use to him because he would never be able to prove they weren’t fakes, but the journal might give him more information. He knows of your parents’ friend Franco, of course, and may try to involve him in the blackmail – you know the type of thing. “Give me the originals or I’ll kill them.”’
‘That’s just what we thought too. It’s what we need to be most careful about.’
‘Definitely. I’m guessing that he’s given up on finding anything at Rennes-le-Château. I’m sure that whatever was there is gone, unless your Bérenger Saunière was particularly cautious and clever. I do know that the Vatican have copies of the Roman parchments, but I’m not so sure if they have copies of the other things he found. It’s likely that they have but, if so, it’s been kept top secret. You may well both know more than me, in fact, I’m sure you do, but I feel a lot better for being out of it. I have no desire to be involved at all now, apart from helping to keep you both safe and to bring Harcourt to his knees. What happens after that is up to you both.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘I’ll be in Ireland in a couple of months, with my camera, books, and a decent wine cellar. Please say you’ll come and visit. The cottage is too small for overnight guests, but there’s an excellent hotel just five minutes away.’
‘We would love to come, August. Ben’s spent some time in Ireland, but I’ve never been at all.’
‘I shall look forward to it, but I’m getting ahead of myself. We need to deal with Harcourt first. I’m going to put my thinking cap on tonight, and let’s speak again in the morning. Remember, a text from one or the other of you every hour until bed. Ask Declan to stop at a shop on the way home to get milk and the like.’
* * *
An hour later, Declan dropped the bishop off in Oxford, staying outside until he saw him enter the house. Later, he kindly stopped at a small supermarket, and eventually, we pulled up outside the cottage. It felt like months had gone by since I had left, although it had only been just over a week. We thanked him and, refusing a tip, he waited outside until we had let ourselves in before driving away.
‘Here we are, Ben… it’s so cold compared to France.’ She shivered and rubbed her bare arms.
I picked up the mail from the floor and went to put the shopping away.
‘Go and unpack, and I’ll put the kettle on and light the fire. You forget how chilly it still is in the evenings here, even in early summer. I’d better text the bishop too.’ A few hours later we both jumped when we heard a loud rapping on the door.
‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me, Bill. I saw the lights on.’
I let him in. He looked well, and although he had a stick, he didn’t appear to be limping at all. I introduced him to Caro, as my newly discovered sister, not cousin, and I heard them strike up an engaging conversation as I made more tea.
‘Welcome back. By the way, I saw Merry earlier. Apparently, Peter left a left a note with his will saying that he didn’t want to be buried at the parish church under any circumstances, and wanted a simple service at the crematorium. How bizarre is that? Family only, no flowers, which I also thought odd considering his love of gardening. Anyway, she seems to be coping well, but Peter’s death is still cloaked in mystery. The official explanation is that he had a heart attack, but I don’t believe a word of it.’
‘I’ll call her later.’
‘She’ll like that, I’m sure. I’ve taken to walking all over the place because of trying to get my hip back into full working order, so I’ve become the village busybody. It’s astonishing what you see when you pace the streets. Anyway, something odd happened today, and if you hadn’t been back I was going to email you about it.
‘I was walking around the allotments, despairing at the state of mine, and as I left I thought I would go into the church and have a look around. I was up at the front, looking at the carved stone crosses in the wall, when I heard the door go. The lights were off, and it was quite dark at the back, but I could see two men bending over the font. They had tools and were trying to peel back the lead lining. Then one of them walked up to the old piscina and started prodding the wall and the wooden panelling nearby with a screwdriver. The other one went up to the chancel and started poking about in Temple Corner, you know, where the other piscina is? The head with the locked mouth? I jumped out from the shadows at that point, and yelled at them. The one in the chancel nearly knocked me over as he ran by, but I got a good look at him.’
‘Did you recognise him?’
‘No, I’ve never seen him before, but he had a scar through his left eyebrow where the hair hadn’t grown back, which would make him easy to recognise again. I didn’t get a good look at the other one until I dashed to the door, and watched them go through the churchyard to their car. He was hobbling quite badly, in fact, he made me feel like an Olympic runner; but then he turned to look at me and I saw his face. Harcourt… Adrian Harcourt. That look would have turned cream sour, and I fear my card has been marked. In fact, I’m sure of it. He won’t forget me in a hurry.’
‘Did you call the police?’
‘I thought about it, but Harcourt and his gang would just say they were looking around, like I was, and deny everything, so I didn’t think there would be much point. I went straight to the vicarage and got a key to lock the place up. I thought it best to keep it locked, at least until there’s a new vicar, and Merry agreed. She’s going to speak to the warden, and I’m keeping a key at my place. The poor woman has enough to contend with.’
‘Look, Bill, you were right when you said that I was in trouble. I don’t want to give you all the details because it places you in danger, but suffice to say I have come across some papers that Harcourt is determined to get his hands on. That he would kill for them is not in doubt. Even the very fact that you saw him poking about in the church puts you at some risk. You will need to be very careful indeed.’
‘You’re right about that. As I told you, he’s a nasty piece of work. I may well have to install a spike on the end of my walking stick. Good job I took that metalworking class a couple of years ago. Seriously, though, I’m guessing that it’s connected to the church, and the weird rumours and oddities. I knew there would be some truth in the old tales, of course; there always is. You don’t have to tell me more, so don’t worry. But what are you going to do? Could the police help? Sorry, that’s a stupid question. If they could you wouldn’t be in this position now.’
Caro nodded. ‘We haven’t quite worked that out yet, Bill. We’ve been thinking that with men like him, it doesn’t do to look weak, so we may end up confronting him, but there are some concerns over firearms. We won’t have any, of course, but he might. We need to scare him off, enough to keep him away for good, so that we’re not in hiding for the rest of our lives.’
‘I’ve got a hunting rifle. I u
sed to do a lot of shooting a few years back, and was in the TA for years. I grew up on a farm, and my brother runs it now with his son, not far from here. I never fancied farming myself… far too gruelling for me, up at five every morning. I preferred a nice orderly academic life surrounded by my books. So, let’s get this clear. You need to scare him off permanently, without injuring him or yourselves, without police involvement, and without losing control of the papers.’
I thought for a second. ‘Yes, that’s about it, Bill. Very well put. Any ideas? I’m starving again. Anyone fancy some soup? It’s not homemade, but it’s fresh and I’ve got a fresh loaf too.’
‘You’ll soon learn, Bill, that with Benoît, his stomach comes first. He may speak perfect English, but he’s French all the way through.’
‘You can talk! Who was it that used to pinch my sweets when we were children? I tell you, Bill, for months I couldn’t understand why, no matter how frugal I was with them, there never seemed to be as many in the tin as I thought there should be. And then I caught her at it; trotters right in the trough!’ Both Caro and I began to laugh.
‘Sibling rivalry, eh? I can see I might need my headmaster’s sternness before long.’
Soon, the three of us were laughing together, and I could see Caro looking at him with small sideways glances. I left them to it, whilst I heated the soup, opened a bottle of wine, and updated the bishop. Bill was good company, and we waved him off an hour later, with him promising to give our ‘little problem’ some thought.
I was soon ensconced on the sofa bed, the fire still warming the room. The events of the past few weeks drifted through my head, as did my realisation of being lucky enough to have good friends around. Old ones like Arnaud and the re-admitted bishop, and new ones like Pascal the priest, and Bill.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
The Priests' Code Page 32
