‘Are you still there, Louis?’ asked the captain doubtfully.
‘Yes, I am still alive. Me, I am continually being surprised by your talents. Please enter the shop, find the girl and arrest her before the brother arrives.’
‘I take it we don’t need the magistrate’s order?’
‘No. Not if you are from the Gestapo.’
‘Then wait here and stop him when he comes along.’
‘Of course. It will be my pleasure.’
Verdammt, but that had been one hell of a run! Walking nimbly up to the door, Kohler fired two shots into the lock and yanked on the wires to silence the alarm. Then he vanished inside, leaving his partner and friend to gradually still the shaking that was in him.
St-Cyr considered things. The sleigh had best be moved, the street allowed to return to itself.
When, after twenty minutes perhaps, he had heard nothing, he crossed the road and hesitantly entered the shop, saying silently, Hermann … Hermann, what has happened?
The girl was on her knees. Bathed in the glow from a single candle stub set on the floor in front of her, she trembled as she waited for them to apprehend her. And the trembling was such that the nubby end of the needle-pointed dagger at her breast quivered in the light, throwing little flashes of ruby.
Kohler sucked in a breath. Ah merde, what was he to do? All around her were the trappings of the shop-fine antiques, exquisite gold and glass, marble and oils. The pickings of a scavenger who fed on the deaths of others. The bones of the centuries.
They were on the second floor of the shop, behind so many things-tucked away in a far corner beside a case of weapons. And all about them, the warm air stirred as the draught from the open door below let in the frost.
‘Don’t come any closer!’ she shrilled at last. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation about the dagger now. ‘Have you taken my brother?’
When no answer came, she shrieked the question at him and he saw then that the pale cheeks were stained by tears.
‘Look, I … We … My partner and I won’t harm you, Mademoiselle Charlebois. I swear it.’
She didn’t listen. With one hand, she ripped the white cotton blouse open-tore at it until brassiere and flesh were exposed and he could see that blood was trickling.
Again the hilt was firmly clasped with both hands. ‘Okay, okay. You win, eh? Here, let me put my pistol on the floor where you can see it.’
A warning sounded in him but the detective paid no attention to it, and in any case, no matter what she said, he would not understand, would not care because everyone would blame her. ‘I didn’t want to do it. You have forced me to, monsieur! You have raped my mind until I had to do it to save him.’
Had Louis come upstairs? Had she seen him? ‘Now look, crimes of passion are always dealt with less severely. If there are extenuating circumstances, the courts will be lenient.’
She gave the half-smile of tragedy. ‘Eighteen, monsieur? Eighteen? Were you not the one to catch the child that fell from it’s mother’s arms?’
‘The tenement fire … You lit it to take the heat off your brother.’
‘A Salamander, monsieur! A creature of mythology. One that lives in fire and basks in its warm embrace as naked lovers do in the act of their union. A scaleless, slippery animal whose skin is soft! A creature that can change its colour when trapped! A chameleon, monsieur-that would have been a far better code-name for you people to have used. A lizard that can vanish!’
‘Will he torch the theatre?’
‘As he torched the cinema of the Beautiful Celluloid?’
Again there was that half-smile both cruel at what life had dealt her and yet bemused. ‘Another fire for which there is no need, monsieur? You see, I didn’t know. Until that fire at the cinema, I never thought for a moment that my brother might have been responsible for those other fires. He was my saviour. He was the one person to whom I could run for shelter. And in any case, he could not have done the cinema fire alone, could he? Oh mais certainement he must have had help before, but had he had it this time? I hesitated to approach the ruins. I was so afraid Henri would have been trapped inside. Burnt to a crisp. Ashes … nothing but ashes. But the memories kept crowding me and I saw my Max in flames. I saw his face begin to melt, I heard his screams. Now I know Henri must have found us together just as he discovered Father Adrian with me.’
Ah Gott im Himmel, the kid was going to kill herself!
‘My brother has always been fascinated by fire, monsieur, and has always wanted me. Henri used to watch me when I was naked as a child. He would strike matches and hold them up, and I would not understand the intensity of his gaze. Oh for sure he would never bring them too close to me and I knew this yet was always afraid. He used to bathe me, did you know this? He used to worship his little sister whom he called “perfection”.’
She became more matter of fact. ‘You see, monsieur, Henri would play a game with Claudine and Ange-Marie, a game in which fire was discovered to cause arousal. Really it was fear, I guess. Oh mon Dieu, who’s to say? But Ange-Marie knows all about it. You’ll have to ask her.’
‘And Claudine? What about her, mademoiselle? What about the keys to your school?’
He wanted the phosphorus. He wanted to keep her talking so as to still death’s sweet moment for as long as possible. ‘Claudine had to be killed, isn’t that so? She could not be allowed to live knowing what she did. She had made a telephone call for Henri that had summoned Father Adrian to his death, she had agreed to meet with a certain woman in a certain cinema. The white sugar of oxalic acid was placed in the bowl, then the concentrated sulphuric allowed to drain slowly down the inside to cover the oxalic which immediately began to fizz.’
‘Yes, but who did it?’
‘Claudine would never know. You see, she feared another-isn’t that correct? A German lady. Beautiful, wanton, eager to touch Claudine’s breasts with fire as a lover would. Naked and alone but secretly watched by another who would take photographs of them. Photographs that would then anonymously fall into the hands of the Gestapo thus pointing the finger of suspicion at the two of them. Me, I have found the negatives and destroyed them.’
The girl took a breath. Perhaps she wanted to quickly brush the hair back from her left cheek, perhaps she simply wanted to swallow, thought Kohler.
‘Carbon dioxide gas is heavier than the more deadlier carbon monoxide, monsieur. Both are released in equal quantities and they tend to displace the air that is in the bowl above the mixture but …’ Again there was that smile. ‘But it really doesn’t matter, does it? Once the gases are breathed, the blood absorbs the poison and the mind slips into unconsciousness. Then death comes quickly to steal the soul and silence the tongue for ever.’
‘Did you kill her?’
He would not believe her but she would tell him anyway. ‘No, I did not. Jean-Pierre, my beautiful zazou, told me how it must have been done. He found it in one of his father’s chemistry texts.’
‘Did Ange-Marie Rachline do it?’
‘For you I have no more answers, monsieur. I have sinned and the futility of my sin is that I wished only to protect the brother whom I loved and admired and tried so hard to understand.’
‘Don’t do it, please. The phosphorus … Two bottles, Mademoiselle Charlebois. At least five hundred grams in … ah, God alone knows how many cubes.’
The phosphorus … ‘Kept under water, it bursts instantly into flame on exposure to air …’
‘Please tell us where it is,’ begged the detective and she saw that he, too, had gone down on his knees before the flame and that there were tears running down his time-ravaged cheeks. ‘Must more be killed?’ he asked. ‘Robichaud, mademoiselle? Did you have to silence him? Leiter Weidling will not be a good enough match for your brother.’