Duval and the Italian Opera Singer Read online

Chapter 15

  When we reached the bottom of the stairs, Fournier turned to me and pulled away his kerchief.

  “Merde! Claude I’m sorry.” I stretched out my hand and gingerly touched his nose. It wobbled. “You’ve broken it!”

  “I know that! You’ve got a hard shoulder, mon brave. Get me home to Berthe. She’ll set it for me. I’m woozy and I don’t want to faint on you at the wrong moment. It was as much as I could do to stand upright when you were questioning that pute.”

  Berthe was not pleased when I pushed Fournier into his apartment. By that time, he was swaying on his feet and I realised he hadn’t exaggerated his condition.

  “What have you done to him now, Alain?” she asked and there was intense irritation in her voice. She spoke roughly but she loves the old reprobate. She doesn’t like to see him hurt.

  “Broken his nose with my shoulder.” I heaved him into a chair.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I didn’t mean to. I fell on top of him. Got any brandy?”

  “I have if he hasn’t drunk it all.” She turned to look at her husband. “Stupide! You’ve always been too clumsy to duck out of the way!” She poured out a couple of glasses.

  “I suppose you want a drink too?” she asked as she handed me one.

  “Please.” It had been hard getting Fournier home. I half carried him up the stairs.

  “Let me see?” Berthe pushed Fournier’s hand away from his face, took hold of his nose and wriggled it. He shot to his feet with a yell.

  “Merciful God woman, that hurts. What are you doing? Trying to kill me?”

  “Don’t be such a baby. Of course it hurts. Might improve the shape of your nose though if I can get it right.”

  “You’ve never complained about it before.”

  “Only because it’d have to be broken to make it better.”

  “Well, now’s your chance, Berthe.” I grinned and she took a swipe at me which, fortunately missed. “Are you able to set it, Berthe, or shall I fetch the doctor?” I asked her. Joking aside, I hated the fact that I was the one who had caused the damage however unwittingly.

  “That lout! I’d rather do it myself, but Claude will have to breathe through his mouth for a while. Leave him with me. He won’t be much good to you until tomorrow at the earliest. Get out of here. Haven’t you got any work to do or more people to beat up?”

  I left hurriedly. At least Berthe hadn’t reproached me for getting her husband injured this time. She usually does when Fournier is hurt in my company. I called first at Renardin’s father’s workshop. I didn’t really expect my quarry to have arrived there and he hadn’t. The watchers were bored and unhappy, so I gave them money for a drink or two. I promised to have them relieved as soon as possible.

  Then I went looking for this Christiane Moulin and she was certainly worth finding. A very comely girl who must have increased her father’s profits, as soon as she started serving his customers. If I hadn’t been married, I might well have tried to spark her interest myself.

  She greeted me with a big smile, expecting, of course, that I wanted to buy tobacco. I only wished I did. These days I can’t even afford the thin cigarillos which the troops used to smoke in Germany. With one child and another on the way, smoking is an unattainable pleasure for now.

  Christiane’s face changed immediately when I told her who I was and who I had come searching for.

  “Why do you want him?” she asked me.

  “He kidnapped a young boy and his mother.”

  She looked startled. “Léon isn’t interested in any other woman and certainly not in harming children. He’s a nice man, a good man. He wouldn’t be mixed up in anything like that.”

  “I didn’t say he wanted the woman for himself, but kidnap her he did.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “To keep her away from Paris.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Certain things which are secret and would be dangerous to tell you. Let’s just say that the Emperor himself is interested in Léon’s whereabouts and may well reward you if you can help me find him.”

  “What sort of a person do you take me for? I don’t sell my friends for thirty pieces of silver, even if you do.”

  I sighed. Threatening this girl with prison or worse would not work. She seemed to be a much stronger character than the slovenly Madame Brissot, too sure of herself to give in to threats. I would have to try another way.

  “You’re female. One day, no doubt, you’ll be a mother. Put yourself into this unfortunate woman’s situation. She’s been kidnapped. Her son has been taken away from her and she doesn’t know where he is. He is in some danger because powerful people are not pleased he exists. She is eventually taken out of Paris, tied up and left in a damp, dark place for almost two days, without food or water. When she is finally rescued, she is in a terrible state.”

  “Did she live?” Christiane interrupted breathlessly. Her eyes were wide as she listened to my story.

  “She did.”

  “And her child?”

  “He did too. He’s back with his mother now but we have yet to catch the villains who did this dreadful thing.”

  “Thank God but how can you possibly think that Léon is one of these scélérats?”

  “The evidence proves he took part in the plot and he knows who organised it. The organisers are the people who interest us most. Exactly what his actions were, I would need to speak to him to find out.”

  I kept silent, watching her closely but allowing her time to think over all that I had said.

  “You’ll catch him in the end, won’t you?”

  I nodded. “We are searching all Paris for him and his companions.” Would that we were able to do such a thing, I thought. We have never had the manpower to search the city thoroughly, but she did not need to know that.

  “Very well. Better that I bring you to him but I want to be there when you meet. If he proves to have done very little, promise me to let him go.”

  “I can’t promise, but I will if I can,” I said, although I knew it was unlikely that I would be able to do so. My superiors would make that decision, not me.

  “Come with me then.” She pulled a shawl around her shoulders, locked the door of the shop and led me out through the back. We went down a winding alley, foul with slops, urine and broken bits and pieces. We left that evil lane for another and then a third. I became quite bewildered with all the twists and turns, which was probably Christiane’s intention. I doubted whether I would be able to retrace my steps without help.

  Eventually Christiane stopped, pushed aside a piece of wood that blocked an opening in a fence and led me into a yard, as filthy as the lane behind it. She picked her way through the debris, bent down and lifted the lid of a hatch set at an angle to the wall. I had no idea what its original purpose might have been.

  “Léon!” she called.

  A gruff voice answered, “What are you doing here at this time, Christiane? Did anyone see you come?”

  “Help me in,” was all she replied to his questions. Then she stepped into the dark hole and I heard a thump as she jumped down onto the floor. I followed as quickly as I could. Léon must have been distracted for a moment, but he recovered almost immediately. I felt his hands go around my throat and his body twist. Realising what would happen next from his movement, I squirmed away. His knee hit the inside of my thigh and not where he was aiming for. His fingers tightened as Christiane shrieked at him in the background. Instead of scrabbling for his hands, which is the natural reaction to being choked, I drove my elbow as hard as I could into his belly. He had been standing too close to me and his gasp parted my hair as the wind was driven out of his lungs. He shifted and I threw my head backwards as he bent forward. By good fortune, I managed to stay on my feet but he staggered away, releasing his hold. Not for the first time I blessed my old sergeant, who taught me to fight when I was a raw boy, not yet sixteen. A couple more punches and Léon lay on the
ground. Then assault came from a different direction.

  Christiane hurled herself against me, thumping me with her fists.

  “Why did you hurt him?” she screamed.

  “Why did he try to choke me?” I stuttered, rubbing at my sore throat.

  With an effort, I threw her off me and she tripped and fell. I took hold of Léon and dragged him across the room to the hole where we had entered. The man’s eyes looked crossed and he was still trying to get his breath. I scrambled out of the hole into the yard and hauled him up into the light. He muttered something.

  “What do you want with me?” I think he said but his words were garbled.

  “You’re coming with me. You have some questions to answer.”

  I tied his hands and hobbled him, so he could walk but could not easily run away. By this time, Christiane had crawled out of the hole too and she continued to shout at me.

  “Go home,” I told her. “You don’t want to be involved in this.”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Nothing, if he answers my questions. I’ll even forget that he tried to kill me if he tells me the truth. Go, I tell you. If you come with us, I won’t be able to keep you out of it.”

  “Don’t be stupid. How would you ever find your way without me?”

  “Lead me to a street then and leave me. If you do, I’ll try to help Léon as much as I can. My word on it.”

  She clearly didn’t like the prospect and stood hesitating for a few moments. Then she said,

  “Very well.”

  I followed her back through the alleyways out into a street thronged with people and horses. We went a little way down it when I chanced to recognise one of our agents on the other side of the roadway.

  “Go now,” I hissed at Christiane. “Pretend you’re not with us.”

  I thought she might argue but she did not. She shot me a glance, put her head down and hurried away.

  I hailed the agent and together we got Renardin into a hackney. When I looked down the street, Christiane had vanished.

  We took Renardin to one of the cells and stationed a guard outside. Then I went to find out what had happened to the rest of the team. I wanted their help in questioning him. We often achieve better results working together, than alone.

  Fournier was sitting in our room, looking much the worse for wear, with rags stuffed into his nostrils to hold his nose straight. His voice, when he spoke was muffled and interspersed with gasps as he tried to breathe.

  “What have you been up to?” he asked.

  “Is Lefebvre back yet?” I did not want to answer his question because Petit was in the room, working on some papers. Petit does not like me because he thinks I swindled him once upon a time. I didn’t, but he has never accepted my word. He would be delighted to carry tales of what I was doing to Laurent, so he could make sure my plans failed.

  “Not yet.”

  “I have something for you to do, Fournier. Come with me.”

  He was not steady on his feet as I helped him out. So, instead of going directly to the cell, as I had intended, we left the building. I told the messenger on the door where to find us if Lefebvre returned and headed for the Rose where we would be undisturbed.

  “Why are we here?” I think Fournier said. It was difficult to understand him; his voice was so muffled, like a man with a bad cold.

  “Petit was around and I thought you could use a drink.” I signalled to the pot boy and ordered brandy as well as wine.

  “You’ve gone up in the world.”

  “Réal’s paying.”

  “Does he know he is?”

  I chuckled. “Not yet. I’ve got Renardin in the cells.”

  “Well done. Quick work.”

  “I had a stroke of luck.”

  “Shouldn’t you be questioning him before anyone else knows he’s here?”

  “I’ve left orders that no one is to question him except me.”

  “That won’t stop Laurent. Once he finds out you’ve brought a prisoner in, he’ll try to find out what’s happening, so he can stick his nose in.”

  “I told the guard that it was the Patron’s express order. That should hold Laurent off for a while.”

  “What do you want me for? I’m not good for much at the moment.”

  “Bear witness that he injured you and we’ll arrest him formally. I may want you to say you were mistaken later on though, so we can drop the charges if he cooperates.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “I promised the girl who showed me where he was hiding. She knows that if Renardin doesn’t talk, the promise won’t be kept, but I’d like to keep my word to her if it’s possible. Easy enough to say you made a mistake in your present condition. First of all, though, I want to put the fear of God into him. Assaulting you will get him sent to prison. He also had a go at me, if I choose to press that charge, so he’ll know he’ll be lucky to escape the hulks. Leaving him to sweat at the prospect for a while might loosen his tongue even further. Then we’ll see if he talks.”

  “Put him in gaol now, where he can hear screams and have rats running over his feet. Then talk to him. Our cells are too civilised.” Fournier tried to give his usual grin and stopped with a howl as his face twisted and pulled his nose to one side. “Torture the bastard! Please!”

  “Torture who?” Lefebvre arrived. He slid into a chair beside Fournier and recoiled. “What happened to you, mon ami?”

  “Duval hit me with his shoulder.”

  “Clumsy of him.”

  “I was pushed,” I explained. “His nose is broken.”

  “Might be a blessing in disguise, with a conk like yours. Berthe must be rejoicing.”

  Fournier only growled at him.

  “Found anything?” Lefebvre asked me, so I told him the story.

  “I’d move him if I were you, quickly. Lose him somewhere unpleasant for a while. Let’s go and do it now before Laurent finds out. Fournier can stay here. We won’t be long.”

  In fact, we got back to the Ministry just in time, to find both Laurent and Petit arguing with the guard outside Renardin’s cell. Laurent rounded on me as soon as he saw me.

  “What is the meaning of this, Duval? How dare you tell this man I am not to be admitted to this cell.”

  I shrugged and tried to keep my face expressionless. I must remember to tip the guard some money for sticking to his instructions so exactly. “Not my fault. It is the Patron’s direct orders. He didn’t say why. Go and ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.” Of course Laurent would never do such a thing. He keeps out of Fouché’s way as much as he possibly can. The Patron does not suffer fools and I have often wondered why he still employs Laurent. If the man has his uses, I haven’t discovered any of them yet. Perhaps he knows one secret too many.

  I stood in front of the door, Lefebvre beside me. I motioned to the guard who was trying to look as if he was not listening avidly.

  “Go and tell Monsieur Réal that Monsieur Laurent is questioning the Minister’s orders and ask him to come here at once.”

  “Certainly, sir.” The guard tried to keep his face straight but his mouth was turning up at the corners. He turned and started to walk away.

  “Stop! No need for that!” Laurent cried. The guard stopped. “Let’s go, Petit, we have work to do even if these louts do not.” He stormed off, his anger evident in the tautness of his body and the way he slammed his feet onto the ground.

  “Let’s get Renardin out of here,” Lefebvre said.

  We went into the cell and hustled Renardin, who looked surprised and afraid, out and into one of the wagons. A short time later we were at the Conciergerie and I made sure that Renardin was housed in the dirtiest and darkest corner of that squalid place. As we were leaving, Lefebvre stopped to say something to the warder and I heard the chink of coins changing hands.

  “What did you ask that man to do?” I asked him.

  “If anyone asks, he is to deny all knowledge of Renardin’s wher
eabouts. He’ll be given water but no food. Hunger should put him into the right frame of mind to be questioned.”

  We were on our way back to the Rose when Lefebvre said,

  “It’s unlike you, Alain, to make such a mistake about Laurent. You know him of old, so what happened?”

  “I wanted Fournier with me to question him but he can hardly walk straight, poor chap. I thought he’d pass out on me, in fact. So I took him to the Rose to buy him a drink. There was no sign of Laurent when I left, so it seemed safe enough for a short time.”

  “Now Laurent’s got another reason to hate you.”

  “As if he needed any more of them. I was concerned about Claude. I don’t like injuring my friends so I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Chapter 16

  We got back to the Rose to find Fournier slumped over the table breathing stentoriously. We helped him up, called a hackney and sent him home to Berthe with instructions not to return to work until he was steady on his feet. Then we sat and finished the wine while Lefebvre told me about his meeting with the girl Manon.

  “I had to pay for her time, mon ami, even though I never laid a finger on her! What will Réal say to that?”

  “He won’t believe you. I’m not sure I do, in fact, and as for Margot!”

  “You won’t like what I’ll do to you if you tell her I was inside a place like that!”

  I laughed. “So what did happen?”

  Lefebvre pulled a roll of paper out of his knapsack and gave it to me.

  “Look at that.”

  “Christ! Rougier’s a good artist and she can describe him accurately. That’s Jacques Evrard to the life, down to the wart on his chin.”

  “When I showed the picture around, some people recognised him but they all swore they hadn’t seen him for a while. I’ve set the word about that anyone who can lead me to him will be well paid, but no one has come to claim the reward yet. They will eventually if he’s still here or when he returns. He might have gone to another part of the city, but I think he’s probably left Paris altogether.”

  “Why?”

  “If he went anywhere near his old haunts, somebody would have noticed him. He’d have to buy food unless a friend bought it for him and he doesn’t seem the friendly sort. To pay for it he’d need to work…”