We found a bench on the upper deck and for a while could not find words to express our thoughts. Air from the funnel casing warmed us and I held her hands in mine. She did not withdraw them. We looked over the guardrail at the calm glassy sea, across which the full moon’s light beat a path from the horizon to our side. Only the ship’s forward motion caused ripples of waves to spread outwards from the hull, turning over the inky water to disturb the hidden phosphorescence which broke into a thousand specks of brilliant green light for a second or two before fading back into oblivion.
We began to talk, and talked and talked. Nicole told me of her recovery, which had been interrupted when she was approached at the beginning of the year about the trial. A deal had been struck. The police were more concerned to have her provide evidence for the prosecution than accuse her of complicity. Her house had been on the path of the gun-runners and they knew now she had left lamps to guide them in the dark, but this hardly warranted a crime worthy of imprisonment. She had been assaulted, presumably by accomplices hired locally by the Corsair. There was no real doubt as to which side of the law she stood. Her evidence of certain key dates, events and procedures of the gang were sufficient to help harden the case against them.
Nicole said she was now strong enough to be at the trial and had legal representation. It would be a burden but one she felt would cement her recovery.
At this moment her notaire appeared on deck, and came quickly across, concerned as to her whereabouts. He spoke with Nicole and persuaded her to go below and get some sleep ahead of the ship’s arrival at Calvi in the morning. He cast a sideways glance at me as he led her away, criticising my actions no doubt.
I had forgotten to say to Nicole, “I love you.”
In Calvi our legal teams kept us apart. My allocated notaire and avocat briefed me on my role in the trial. As the documentation that had been sent to me laid out, I was to perform the function of a prosecution witness and they confirmed I should stick strictly to the deposition I had made and I would be questioned by the prosecutor in this manner.
The avocat then said, “ maintenant vous etes témoin de l’accusation”, which I took to mean at this stage you are (only) a witness for the prosecution. In the way he spoke these words however there seemed a hint it might have been, or could be changed to ‘de la défense’ – a presumption that would put me in danger, implicate me with the gang. (Had I been conveniently asleep too often on the job?) He alluded to the position of Antoine and Angelique – yes, they were to be called – and that they stood balanced on a knife-edge of guilt. Inspector Girard had spent time on the island following up the case and had interrogated them at length, until they too had struck a deal.
The trial began on the due date. The first day was taken up by the prosecution outlining the case, the core arguments which would support the accusations of guilt, the hard evidence of the raid when the Corsair and his men had been caught red-handed up the mountainside at the cove with mules loaded with arms. The prosecutor went into the course of events over the summer months, indicated he had witnesses to confirm these, and listed the chain of deaths that had blighted the community. There was however one void in his summary. The Corsair was clearly the local commander of the gang, but there was no evidence as to whom had given him his orders, whether in Marseille, Corsica or elsewhere. Inspector Girard winced at this admission, but the prosecutor was focused on the evidence that was certain to obtain a conviction.
On the second day, myself, Nicole and Antoine sat apart with our respective legal advisers and gave evidence (as scripted) in turn. It seemed we were called in reverse order of significance, with my testimony first. As I took the stand the Corsair in the dock stared stony-faced at me, giving no hint of recognition. The questions addressed to me were exactly as in the documentation, and the key passages were translated by an interpreter for my benefit and that of Nicole. I stuck to my deposition. I could hardly do otherwise.
Later that day Nicole gave her testimony. The prosecutor accepted she had been a pawn in the chessboard of events, and under pressures she could not reasonably avoid. He outlined her purpose for having a house at the cove and how each summer she had been ‘no trouble’ up to last year. She had been attacked by persons unknown, and suspicion lay at the feet of the gang, but the assault had not been witnessed. She had recovered from the coma and could now be considered a reliable witness. Like me, she stuck to the prepared answers.
The next day Antoine gave evidence on behalf of himself and Angelique. He admitted he had allowed his mules to provide the burden of transporting ‘goods’ up the mountainside. He could not be certain what these items were, but had to accept they must have been contraband at least, to be brought in to the cove on moonless nights by sea. He said he had no choice and had been threatened by the Corsair.
The three of us were ‘released’ from the Court on the third day, but I was required to stay in Calvi ‘in case’. Girard took my passport and indicated I should be available at my hotel. I had a nasty feeling he could do whatever he liked with me. Nicole was to go back to England in a couple of days. Antoine and Angelique would go into hiding against the possibility of venditta.
That left one day in which Nicole and I could meet up, and this time with the Court appearances behind us we could relax. We walked along the beach beyond the harbour, and this time arm-in-arm. We talked and talked, and now of the future, of finding each other, of sharing our lives. I told her repeatedly that I loved her and she smiled each time, nodding her head happily. It was going to be all right, all would be well. We would care for her son, deal with his epilepsy. She would try and develop her potions but in the safety of England, with plants brought in by others. We would dream of our Mediterranean days in sunny Corsica, but would leave in the past the murderous events of last year. I would hold her in my arms and she would wake to the reassurance of my protection. Robert would have to understand and relinquish his duties. All would be well. We walked until sunset and made arrangements to meet up back home. I went back to my hotel and slept well.
Next morning she had gone, with her legal team. Calvi suddenly seemed small and far from the place I needed to be.
Girard called at my hotel and sat me down on the terrace. He had my passport and ordered a cognac for the pair of us. As soon as the drinks arrived and we were alone, he began to talk, and in a long diatribe ran once more over events at the cove. It was if he wasn’t ready to let me go. I let him talk and his discourse covered all sorts of theories as to whom might have been behind the Corsair, who might have given the orders, who was in control. He spoke of Marseille and its darker side, of criminality and its pervasive effect. How once Corsica had hidden its violence in the mountains, and that it was only recently, with modern communications how it was much easier to hide its intentions from afar, not only on the mainland of France, but in wider Europe, even America. Crime did pay and hid its web within the course of ‘normal’ business. Some people made a fortune, but never got their hands dirty. They used ‘executioners’ like the Corsair to do their nasty work.
I listened to all this as he continued unabated, but said nothing. My thoughts were with Nicole and the bright future ahead. I accepted now that our loving had totally distracted me from my original intentions on Corsica. Not everything goes to plan. Our passion had diverted my attention, consumed me, and made me view and record the whole experience in a different light.
My continued lack of response must have frustrated Girard, for after an hour he pushed my passport over to me, but kept his hand on it. This ‘interrogation’, self-administered, seemed to be too late in the day. There was no doubt the evidence presented in Court would put the Corsair and his fellow gun-runners behind bars for a long time. I did not comment. I had made a decision. To turn over a new leaf, put my past behind me, cut free. I had made enough to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I could spend it to good purpose on Nicole and her son. Girard took his hand off my passport and waited for my observati
on on his theories. When at last I did comment briefly on the logic of his speech, he said it was his duty to be suspicious of everyone. I could have agreed, but felt silence was the best position.
After all, if there is no proof, one is not guilty.
End.
The Dark Side of the Sun Page 28
