The Lebel skidded into the mud. ‘You fools!’ seethed Charles Audit. ‘Must my brother have everything?’
‘Your brother, ah yes,’ said St-Cyr. ‘Where is he?’
‘With me,’ confessed Otto Brandl, warily enjoying the moment. ‘So you see, Henri, I still hold more cards than you.’
‘Then have him brought inside,’ said St-Cyr, ignoring the Schmeisser. He shouted for the carousel to be stopped, and the animals in their terrified race began at once to coast slowly into submission, going up and down. The turtle, the panda, the black stallion in the fourth row, ah yes.
He strode firmly over to Pierre Bonny and pushed the gun away from Gabrielle, but found that her lovely eyes would not leave him. ‘Please, it will be okay, eh? This bunch, they are nothing, Gabrielle. Some day France will be free of them. Then you and I -’
‘Will be dead.’
Must she say it so accusingly? Turning his back on them, he went over to the carousel to set matches, pipe and tobacco pouch on the very edge nearest the cage. ‘So, my friends, what really went on in that room at the Hotel of the Silent Life?’
Antoine Audit was thrust forward by two of Brandl’s men and left to stand alone under the lights.
‘You, monsieur, could answer for me, eh? The granddaughter of your brother Charles, a virgin until after the moment of her death.’
‘A virgin …?’ snorted Lafont, swinging the Schmeisser in an arc.
‘Ah yes. Oh for sure there were the trappings of a liaison, and she did take off her clothes on several occasions but …’
‘But we did not have sexual congress,’ said Antoine Audit. ‘Christabelle refused me, Charles. Always she refused.’
‘You bastard! You killed her! Me, I will -’
‘Silence! Speak only when told to.’
Kohler was impressed. Never had he seen Louis quite like this. In spite of everything, the Frog commanded respect. Even from gangsters.
Louis lit the pipe but did not take his eyes from Antoine Audit. ‘She reminded you of Michele-Louis Prevost, monsieur.’
‘That proves nothing. Nothing! All … all right, she … she was the reincarnation of Michele-Louise, so what?’
‘You had seen her naked in the drawing studios.’
‘Yes … yes, I had seen her that way enough times to wet the appetite. Is that a crime?’
‘Viper! Cannibal! You stole her from me just as you stole Michele-Louise!’
‘Charles … Charles, for the love of Jesus, don’t say anything.’
‘Rejean, she’s gone. Gone! My little bird. He … That one, my brother!’
‘Your brother wanted everything, Monsieur Charles. He took Michele-Louise, took the few gold coins you had started collecting, took the shop, the villa and left you on the broken rocks of the Ile du Diable for fifteen years.’
‘She deceived you, Charles!’ shouted Antoine Audit. ‘Ah, yes, my brother, Michele-Louise came willingly into my arms.’
‘Revenge,’ said St-Cyr quietly. ‘It was all a matter of revenge, eh, Monsieur Charles? Christabelle was only too well aware of the hatred you and your brother bore each other. Doubtless she adored and trusted you implicitly, and though very brave, made a very foolish mistake.’
‘The coins were forgeries!’ seethed Lafont. ‘Nom de Jesus-Christ, Pierre, let’s finish the bastards and get it over with!’
‘And end up in disgrace? Is that what you wish the avenue Foch to think, Monsieur Henri?’
‘Then get on with it,’ snarled Pierre Bonny.
Otto Brandl had kept himself watchful and a little isolated from the others.
‘It was all a set-up, Louis,’ breathed Hermann. ‘The girl was a partner to it with Charles and Rejean. On their okay, she held out the offer of her body to Antoine Audit while behind his back she was arranging the sale of forgeries her grandmother had made years and years ago from the original coins in Charles Audit’s collection.’
‘Ah, yes, Hermann. First Christabelle shows Corporal Schraum a real coin, one that her grandfather has provided – Roman and perfect. Schraum is not unintelligent. Though he asks to see her papers, he knows enough not to arrest her.’
‘The coins would simply have vanished,’ said Hermann, taking three small steps no one else noticed.
St-Cyr continued. ‘Early in September, the girl agrees to part with this one coin and it travels down the pipeline to Stralsund and the uncle of Corporal Schraum.
‘Who judges it in excellent condition and forwards it on to the Reichsmarschall Goering, Louis.’
‘Goering then orders the uncle to tell Schraum to proceed carefully.’
‘Four hundred and eighty-seven coins!’ shrilled Henri Lafont. ‘Where are they?’
Louis was quick with a silencing hand. ‘They meet again, but now Schraum and Victor Morande and Rolande Minou know exactly who she is, where she lives and who she meets in that room. The successful industrialist, eh, Monsieur Antoine? Your wealth and the tantalizing possibilities of hidden valuables.’
‘And so do the rue Lauriston and the Bureau Otto,’ breathed Kohler. A few more steps, just a few … ‘And a fledgling cell of Resistance hotheads.’
St-Cyr gave his pipe a sudden lift. ‘So, the fix is in. The thirty coins are produced – a representative sample that the girl and her co-conspirators know to be false. The sum of 31,250 old francs changes hands, but retribution will be swift once the truth is out. Antoine Audit will be blamed as the perpetrator of the fraud.’
‘Revenge?’ snorted Pierre Bonny.
‘But of course. Please do not forget that on the Defeat of France the coins had been reported stolen. They had been hidden in the cellars of the Villa Audit by your brother, is that not right, Monsieur Charles? But you stole them back and took them away in two suitcases.’
‘Two suitcases? What is this?’ demanded Henri Lafont.
‘In a moment, please. Antoine Audit, realizing what was planned, confronted the girl on that Tuesday afternoon at four o’clock. You demanded the return of the coins, eh, Monsieur Antoine? In great distress, Christabelle agreed to meet you on Thursday evening at the regular time.’
‘But by then Victor Morande had been murdered,’ said Hermann. ‘The girl was then strangled on that Thursday evening and raped, and Corporal Schraum shot to death in the street but a short time later.’
‘The coins, I want the coins,’ said Henri Lafont.
‘Then I will take the emeralds,’ said Otto Brandl.
It was the chanteuse who anxiously said, ‘Jean-Louis, please tell them where they are.’
Again St-Cyr was forced to look into her eyes and then into those of Hermann’s little pigeon.
‘The hostages, Jean-Louis. Remember?’ beseeched the chanteuse. ‘For France, mon amour. For France.’
Ah Mon Dieu, she was so very tragic in beauty.
‘Two suitcases, Louis,’ prompted Hermann.
‘Yes, yes, my old one. Heavy because in addition to the gold coins they contained the iron dies Michele-Louise Prevost had made some time prior to the year 1905. Also the copies she had cast of some of the original coins. Is that not correct, Monsieur Charles?’
It was.
St-Cyr held up a hand to silence the gangsters. ‘It is uncertain in my mind, Monsieur Charles, if at this time you had fully worked out what you intended to do to your brother. I rather doubt this, but the germ of the idea must have taken root.’
‘Two suitcases, two and a half years ago? Who gives a damn?’ snarled Lafont.
‘I DO! As does my partner.’
‘There was another killing, Louis. That of Mila Zavitz.’
‘Yes, yes, Hermann. The Wehrmacht were to be blamed for that, but …’ he paused, ‘it was not done by them, was it Monsieur Charles?’
Everyone looked at the ex-convict whose wrists were still handcuffed to those of his friend and to the brass upright upon which an ostrich rode.