Clandestine by J. Robert Janes Page B

capable of 177 kph (110 mph), had beat them to it.
    â€˜The hood’s still warm,’ said Louis.
    â€˜Inspectors … Inspectors,’ came a deeply resonant voice from on high, behind an iron walkway’s railing at the back. The suit and tie were those of a banker, the gut and shoulders something else again. ‘ Mon Dieu , but you’ve had a time of it, I gather. Hector Bolduc à votre service . Come up, come up. Back of this walkway is my office away from the bank. A little coffee and cognac to take the chill off? Two trusted bank employees murdered, was it, at l’Abbaye de Vauclair of all places? Their wives and children have been notified, have they? Funeral expenses will have to be found—the bank of course—and a little set aside to keep them all going.’
    A hand was quickly extended, theirs taken by the grip of a wrestler. ‘Here, I’ll close the door to let the boys get on with their work. Grégoire will soon be here. You’ve left the van locked, have you? The keys then, for later.’
    He, too, snapped his fingers just like Yvonne Roget. ‘A few questions first, Chairman Bolduc,’ began Louis. ‘Nothing difficult you understand, since your return from the Côte Sud des Landes has been so remarkable, my partner and I are a little taken aback.’
    And if that wasn’t kindly, what was? wondered Kohler, for if damage control was intended, the set of this one’s lips and arch of the fiercely bushy grey-black brows and the look in those deep-brown eyes said enough. Greying at the sides, thin and curly and almost bald on top, the hair would see a barber every other day at least, but the grizzled cheeks, chin and throat simply reinforced the appearance not just of toughness, but of a slum landlord about to toss out a family of ten.
    The big hands gestured at the thought of his still being in Paris. ‘Yvonne was only trying to give me time to get here. I’m not off until Thursday at 0500 hours. Hauptmann Reinecke and Leutnant Heiss, who are assigned to my bank, are to deliver the Dornier DO-24T flying boat we at the bank have donated to the Luftwaffe’s Coastal Command. It’s come straight off the line at the Potez-CAMS works at Sartrouville. * Very safe and reliable, it’s the perfect reconnaissance aircraft. The Dutch are also producing them. Now please, a little refreshment since Yvonne has told me you hardly touched a thing she had ordered in for you.’
    â€˜A moment,’ said Hermann. ‘Are Reinecke and Heiss also attached to Abwehr-West?’
    The Army’s counterintelligence service and the usual for such. ‘Would it matter?’
    â€˜It might.’
    â€˜Then that I wouldn’t know, would I, otherwise it wouldn’t be top secret.’
    Seizing the coffeepot, he filled the mugs, then smoothly set three glasses in a row and gave them the Rémy Martin Vieille Réserve. ‘It’s a favourite,’ he said. ‘Fifteen years in the cask. Look at how deep the colour is, savour its aroma first. Warm it in the hand and only then brush the lips while breathing in the scent. It’s magnificent.’
    One could but try, thought St-Cyr. ‘Monsieur, the back of that van of yours was loaded not just with cash, but items gathered along its route for sale on the marché noir . Brie, wine, champagne, bacon, ham, flour, eggs, truffles …’
    Confessions would be out of the question, felt Kohler, since the swiftness of a dark and challenging look had erupted into, ‘What’s this you’re saying? That trusted employees of my bank would dare to do such a thing when half the city is starving and the other half entirely hungry? No milk for the newborns whose mothers have gone dry?’
    â€˜Apparently so,’ went on Louis, ‘but those employees of yours certainly got taken on the truffles. They’re not of the winter variety. They’re from last summer