‘She has met him recently.’
‘Pardon?’
How shrill of this beautiful Andalusian who had had the Gypsy’s bastard and had just recently had her face bashed. ‘A place, a very special place. His favourite bordel.’
‘The fool!’
Would Henri beat this Nana Theleme? Would he fuck her, torture her? Between 50,000,000 and 70,000,000 francs were missing. A fortune. Diamonds … lots and lots of those and sapphires too. Pretty things Henri wanted for himself, well, some of them, for his little retirement. ‘A lupanar with a chambre de divertissements detaches.’
‘The house on the rue de la Bourde in Tours.’
The street of the blunder, the heart sinking at the news. Was all now lost? Was that it, Mademoiselle Theleme? ‘The same. The House of the Hesitant Touch.’
‘What?’ demanded Kohler, only to see Louis raise a cautioning hand.
The atmosphere in the dressing-room was tense. They were still discussing Nana Theleme’s maid giving secrets away in a prison cell.
‘Something about a prospector,’ muttered the Spade, wiping sweat from his face.
‘The diamonds,’ breathed Kohler.
‘No, not those,’ insisted Doucette, resigned to telling them. ‘That was almost settled. It was something she had to take to a place near Senlis, the girl thought. Something bad the Mademoiselle Theleme could then get from there if she wanted.’
The dynamite – was that it? wondered St-Cyr. There were stone quarries nearby.
Herr Max reached out to hand Henri a clean towel. ‘Go und have a Brausebad. Ja, ja, mein lieber boxer, you have said all that is necessary for now.’
‘Where is she? I want her,’ said the Spade.
‘Tshaya?’ asked Engelmann.
‘No other woman can fuck like her. No other.’
Frantic, Kohler stopped the Spade on the way to the shower-baths. ‘Which lupanar did you find her in, eh?’
‘Le bordel de la touche hesitante in Tours. La grille de la treillis indochinois. She was the one behind it.’
‘Louis, we’re going to have to go to Tours.’
‘Of course, but first there are things we must do.’
Nana Theleme sat in the front seat between the two of them. Engelmann had released her into their custody. It was to be their necks against hers and she knew they were trying to get her to tell them everything but she couldn’t do that. She mustn’t.
‘Four women,’ mused the Surete, scraping frost from his side window to stare out into the pitch darkness Paris had become at nine o’clock in the evening. ‘One a gypsy herself. One a singer of their songs. One a veterinary surgeon and zoo-keeper, the mistress, if we are to believe it, of the sous-directeur of Cartier’s.’
‘And the last one?’ she asked.
‘That is the one who most concerns me, mademoiselle. You see, when we first met, you said you did not know of her yet she has a little car and is allowed that privilege.’
‘And sings to eight hundred war-weary men a night, you said. The Club Mirage is in Montparnasse on the rue Delambre. All right, I do know Gabrielle Arcuri and she did drive me to Senlis to visit the dying mother of Monsieur Jacqmain, the prospector. That was one of his conditions. He and his mother had not spoken in years. He had received a letter from the woman’s housekeeper, but by the time we got there, Madame Jacqmain had passed away.’
‘And when was this trip to Senlis?’
Ah damn him! ‘Right after I went to Tours. On … on the following day, on Wednesday, the … the thirteenth.’
‘Then why did you lie to me about not knowing Gabrielle?’
She gave a nonchalant shrug he would be certain to feel since their shoulders were touching. ‘One lies these days. It’s an age of them, is it not?’
‘But to lie successfully one must be consistent.’
She sighed. She said, ‘Chance plays such a part in life. You have heard, perhaps, of the arrest of my little Juliette, my bonne a tout faire. Who would have thought of her saying anything to anyone? What did those women do to her in that prison, Inspector? She’s tender. She’s pretty. She’s a very gentle creature and very loyal, but now … now she says so little. She’s not been herself since.’
‘Did you tell Janwillem De Vries of the contents of that safe of the Generalmajor Wehrle’s?’
‘I didn’t, but it was not necessary for me to do so, not if the Gestapo of the rue Lauriston had been keeping an eye on things and smelling a fortune. If only they could get their filthy hands on it before Hans did. If only they could get at those people through me. My maid, my Juliette, knew nothing of what I was doing for Hans, nothing of the diamonds or of that safe.’
‘But knew of the prospector?’
‘Unfortunately.’
‘Do you know Madame Suzanne-Cecilia Lemaire?’
They would check with Ceci. ‘My Jani loves to visit the zoo. Madame Lemaire was most kind and let him help her feed the wolves. He’s only a little boy. Don’t ask me why he is so fascinated by such animals. The fables Juliette tells him at bedtime, the nightmares, I suppose.’
She grew silent, but then said sadly, ‘A mother has to be present at all times when a child is young, yet when she has to earn a living, such a duty is not possible.’
‘Gabrielle’s son lives at the chateau near Vouvray with his grandmother, the Countess.’
‘Yes. I’ve been there too. Once or twice. I can’t remember.’
And what of the dynamite? he wanted so much to ask but thought it best to go carefully.
On the way up in the lift, in its privacy, he said, ‘Mademoiselle, it’s the silhouettes that so often defeat a boxer for he can’t hide behind them. They reveal his every weakness.’
‘And mine?’ she asked.
Her expression was tragic but she would have to be told. ‘The SS or the Gestapo won’t use the guillotine. They’ll use an axe, so if you wish to confide in me, please do so now before it’s too late.’
‘It already is. Janwillem saw to that when he parked your car below my windows.’
‘But why did he do so? That is the question?’
‘Ask him when you find him. Ask him why he wanted to kill the son he has never seen. Only he can give you the answer.’
The caviar was malossal, the Russian for slightly salted, and it was to be eaten with the little pancakes those courageous people called blini. Wedges of fresh lemon were provided – all but unheard of these days; also a small dish of finely chopped fresh green chives.
The vodka was crystal clear and so cold, the bottle still wore its coat of frost. The dressing-room at the Club Mirage was tiny and bugged by Gestapo Paris’s Listeners and yet Gabrielle would use her voice.
‘So, mon amour, you have come to see me and as you can surmise, I’ve been expecting you and have prepared myself for your questions. Once again I am suspected of something? These robberies, Jean-Louis, that terrible explosion, have been in all the newspapers. Don’t keep me in suspense a moment longer.’
‘Gabrielle, please! It’s difficult enough. A few small questions just to help the investigation along.’
‘Nothing difficult?’ she arched, catching him unawares.
He winced. ‘Not difficult. No.’
‘And Hermann, where is he, please?’
‘Gone to see Giselle and Oona, and then to have a look into the Gare Saint-Lazare robbery.’
‘Cartier’s … my sapphire necklace … the bracelet, ear-rings and ring. The 8,600,000 francs they will have to return now that this … this Gypsy has stolen them from me, yes from me! Jean-Louis. How could you even think I had anything to do with that business?’
‘We don’t! Hermann and I are both convinced of this but others must be satisfied. It’s the way things are. Berlin are insisting.’