The Retreat Page 14

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘No. I never was. I’ve got a son.’

  ‘I’m divorced. I’ve got a daughter whom I never see. Her mother took her to Quebec ten years ago.’ He took another slice of bread.

  ‘What’s she called, your daughter?’

  ‘Anastasia. She never knew her uncle.’

  ‘My son’s called Niall. He never knew his father.’

  ‘Was that your decision?’

  ‘Not entirely. It turned out alright when he left. Not for Niall, perhaps, thinking back. Sons need fathers.’ She heard footsteps in the hall. ‘They’re up and about. I think the library would be the best place for you to talk to them. Shall I show you where it is, and get them?’

  ‘Please. I need to get on with it.’

  Mackie had the reception she expected when she took the tray back to the kitchen. Iris had joined the group. ‘Shameless,’ she said. ‘His brother and you, in Roman’s room.’

  ‘Maybe she likes doing it with twins,’ Herbert said. ‘It must be a fetish.’

  Mackie handed the tray to Joanna, who was hovering. ‘Duroc contacted me and told me that Roman was dead.’ She looked at Herbert and Sofka. ‘I broke the news to Jem. You didn’t contact him about the fire, although you’d met him, hadn’t you? You knew that Roman had a brother.’

  ‘We hadn’t got a contact number to phone him,’ Sofka said. The computer was stolen from Jacqueline’s car. You were here when she fetched it. She drove you to the station. Did you steal it from her? I wouldn’t put it past you. I wonder if Jem knows about that.’

  ‘He knows I’m a police officer, and that I’ve come back to investigate. He wants you all to go to the library. Now. He wants to talk to you.’

  They looked put out, but went without protest. She stood by the door and let them all through, before following. Jem was looking at Roman’s books. He thanked them for coming and asked them all to be seated. Mackie took the window seat where she’d sat on the night of the fire.

  ‘I’ll be brief. As my brother’s next of kin, I intend to carry out his wishes. He was planning to sell the château and move back to England. I will make the arrangements today about transporting his body, and make a quick survey of what is in the common parts of the house, not including your rooms. When that’s done, I’ll return to London straight away, and file an application for probate. You’ll have several months to look for a new retreat. It can be a lengthy process. My brother was a man of property. I will be coming back here in a couple of weeks to chair the Servants of Light Convention. We intended to use the conference centre, but since that’s no longer possible, we’ll use the library here. Nothing is required of you, and you are invited to attend the lantern show, should you so wish. Is everything clear?’

  Iris got on her feet. ‘No, it is not clear. The château belongs to us. We are a community. We hold our worldly goods in common. That includes Roman’s property.’

  ‘I told you that he was planning to sell it. The convention was to have been his swansong, as he put it. Now it will be his memorial, if I can put it like that. When probate is granted, I will put the château and estate on the market. In view of your time investment here, I’ll give you first refusal.’

  ‘This is outrageous. We have all put money into this, as well as time. It is our home and our enterprise.’

  ‘If you would each kindly let me have records of any amounts you invested, then the estate will reimburse them. I think that’s fair.’

  ‘There must be a will,’ Herbert said. ‘This can’t be right.’

  ‘Can you produce a will, or a deed, that shows the château belongs to the community, as owners in common with my brother?’

  ‘Our personal details will be on his computer.’ Sofka looked round at Mackie, and pointed her finger. ‘She was the last person to see it.’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Mackie said. She turned to Jem: ‘I’ll get a USB copy for you. There’s a folder named Community.’

  He acknowledged this with a nod, and carried on: ‘I have a copy of my brother’s will. The original is with our solicitors in London. I’m named as his executor. Unless you can show me certified evidence of any shares in the château, the position remains that I am his heir. He wanted to sell it, as I already told you. I spoke to him on the phone about it very recently. Not long before he died, in fact.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Nothing will change for the time being. You are welcome to stay on.’

  ‘That’s big of you,’ Herbert said. ‘We’ll be consulting our solicitors, too.’

  ‘You are perfectly at liberty to do that. Now, would you let me have the name of the undertakers? I’ll be in the study. Oh, and I intend to make an inventory of the pictures. Inspector Divine has kindly agreed to help me.’

  She followed him out into the hall. The library doors were shut behind them. There was a muffled sound of outrage..

  ‘You’ve put the cat amongst the pigeons,’ she said.

  ‘I suppose you took his computer because you were investigating him.’

  ‘Let’s go back to the study. We won’t be disturbed. Not after your bombshell.’

  ‘You think I came on too strong?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She sat on the chaise longue. He took the swivel chair.

  ‘There’s evidence that suggests that the funders group Babel could be instrumental in planning terrorist attacks all over Europe in a bid to foster sectarianism and destroy democracy. I obtained a list of attenders, which led to some arrests. Arson attacks are the modus operandi of this group. Their aim is to unsettle the community and cause civil unrest. They want to fill the vacuum caused by anarchy with martial law, and then impose rule by oligarchs. I know it sounds fantastic. I didn’t take it seriously at first, but I do now.’

  ‘I was approached when I was at Cambridge. I turned them down. Peter thought it would have been romantic to be a spy.’

  ‘I believe he became concerned when he found out that the intentions of the group were serious — not just philosophy about an ideal new society. A local restaurant burnt down. I was menaced by the group of former legionnaires who acted as bodyguards to the funders when they held conferences here. I think he saw what I was doing, and left the list for me to find.’

  Jem scratched his chin. ‘My brother was impressionable, but he wasn’t a revolutionary.’

  ‘I think he may have been killed by an affiliate of the funding group. They told him they were pulling the plug on the finance. I want to question the fire officers who were there that night. Could you bear with me while I do that?’

  ‘How long will that take? I can take the train.’

  ‘I’ll get onto it straight away. This afternoon even, when you’ve completed your inventory. You won’t be able to sell anything from the château until probate is granted.’

  ‘I’m aware of that. A few art dealers and private collectors are coming to the convention. If I mark the pictures, they’ll be able to see what will be in the auction when I’m able to hold it. The sale would be at an auction house in London. I’m taking the portrait of our mother that’s in the bedroom back with me. She gave it to both of us before she died. She must have wanted us to see what she looked like before she had us – and left us. I had it in London for ten years, then Peter brought it here. I’ve also taken his cufflinks. They’re in my pocket. That will be alright, won’t it? They’ve been in the family for years.’

  ‘I won’t say anything.’

  ‘I suppose his watch was lost in the fire. That belonged to my grandfather.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Would it help to have photos of the pictures? I could take them on my phone and e—mail them to you?’

  ‘That’s a good idea. I haven’t got my phone with me. We left in a bit of a rush. I want to get back as soon as I can.’

  ‘So do I,’ she said. ‘My son has been injured.’

  ‘But you dropped everything, and came back here with me. The call of duty, I suppose.’

 
‘Niall is twenty two. His girlfriend has moved in. They don’t want me around. I’ll come back here when you do, if I may. We’ve got to find the connection between Babel and the arson attacks.’

  ‘All I know is that Peter told me he’d gathered a group of wealthy financiers who were prepared to invest in the conference centre. He wanted to build it to create an income for his community. You’ve seen how inept they are.’

  ‘I have indeed. They’d never become self-sufficient.’

  ‘Peter was shrewd. He had the genes of an investment banker. Our grandfather founded an investment firm in The City. Our father took the baton when he died, and wanted us to go into it. Neither of us did. I went to Cambridge to read physics, and carried on as a researcher there for a bit. Optics. Peter was more on the metaphysical — one could say arty — side.’

  ‘You mean airy-fairy?’

  ‘I could never understand how a man of his intelligence could get involved with all that New Age stuff. He was always narcissistic. Maybe I am, too. You know, only another twin could understand what I felt when you broke the news to me. It’s like losing a part of oneself.’ He looked her in the eye.’ Forgive me for blubbing about it in front of you. For all of my behaviour yesterday, in fact. You’ve been very supportive.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘We used to argue about science. He said it had produced Einstein and Nobel. He thought the world would have been better off without them because their inventions enabled the sort of war that annihilated more civilians than armies. At one stage, he wouldn’t step on a worm because he thought it was bad karma to kill any living thing. He was very young then. He went back to eating meat.’

  ‘His secretary could help you with conference arrangements here. She’s between jobs at the moment.’

  ‘That’s another good idea. I don’t suppose you know of any undertakers who would undertake to collect a body from France?’

  ‘There’s Byrne and Co in Camden Town. I’ve had a fair bit to do with them when I’ve liaised with the Coroner. They could handle it.’

  ‘Great. I’d like to meet the secretary.

  ‘I’ll call her now.’

  The sergeant picked up. He must have been off duty. He grunted when he heard Mackie’s voice, then she heard Jacqueline on the line.

  ‘You came back. What can I do for you, Madame?’

  ‘I have Mr Roman’s brother with me. We’re staying at the château. He needs someone to arrange a conference here – the last one...’ She gave Jem the thumb’s up. ‘Eleven would be perfect. See you then.’

  ‘Shall we go and survey the damage?’ he said.

  A fence had been erected round the site. Another wreath of flowers and an extravagant bouquet created by a florist had been placed before it. The ground felt warm underfoot – perhaps she imagined that. The trees behind what had been a substantial building were charred, the closest ones reduced to cinders. Jem made the sign of the cross and inclined his head. She did the same.

  4

  Jacqueline did a double take when she saw Jem. She handed him her CV, which he glanced at, then gave back to her.

  ‘Please sit down. Do you think you could you arrange another conference here at the château? It will be the last one. The Servants of Light Convention.’

  ‘Ah oui, c’est ca. It would be a pleasure, monsieur. I regret very much about your brother.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She turned to Mackie. ‘The computer was taken from my car. It must have happened at the petrol station.’

  ‘There’s a computer in the library you can use for now,’ Jem said.

  ‘You will need to access to the SOL website, where you’ll find details about the convention. Here’s my card.’

  ‘Would you do something for me too, Jaqueline?’ Mackie asked. ‘I need an interpreter today. I’ll pay for your time.’ She looked at Jem. ‘Is now OK?’

  ‘The sooner, the better.’

  They followed the old Renault into town. Jacqueline told the receptionist at the fire station that they wanted to to see the chief officer. Mackie flashed her ID.

  The chief was pleased to tell them about his findings. Investigation of the cause and acceleration of fires was his passion. He’d built an archive of famous fires, including The Fire of London in the seventeenth century. And the fire that was in the city during the Blitz. The fight to save St Paul’s Cathedral. Those firefighters were extraordinary. The Emperor Nero playing his violin while Rome burned...Mais revenons à nos moutons: Petrol was the accelerant for the fire at the conference centre He believed that the fire was ignited by a device, such as a mobile phone. It was a sophisticated technique for Mademoiselle L’Oiseau to use. There were signs of a detonator in the wreckage of the cleaning cupboard where there were cans that had contained highly inflammable fluids. Aerosol cans would explode like little bombs. He had already reported all this to Mâitre Duroc.

  ‘That’s our next port of call,’ Mackie said.

  The examining magistrate shook their hands, looking helplessly at Jem. Mackie explained that she was investigating the death of a British subject, and asked if he could take them to see the L’Oiseaux couple.

  ‘Marie-No is in custody. I will need to see authority from your superiors.’

  ‘I don’t want to see Marie-No. Not for now, anyway. I want to talk to her father.’

  ‘Do we need to disturb him? He is very upset about her confession.’

  ‘I’d be obliged.’

  Duroc sighed, and heaved himself up. ‘I expect a pot of that excellent marmalade,’ he told her. There has been no château stall since...’ He glanced at Jem. ‘Everyone is shocked.’

  L’Oiseau was erecting a wire fence in the front garden of a brand new house. The house next to it was still under construction. He jerked when he saw Jem in the party, and dropped his cutters. Duroc told him that Inspector Divine from the Metropolitan Police wanted to ask a few questions about the fire at the conference centre. It was informal. It might help his daughter. ‘Can you wait here for us?’ he asked Jacqueline. ‘And you, monsieur.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d take Jacqueline to lunch at the crèperie,’ Mackie suggested to Jem. ‘You can fill her in on the Servants of Light. I’ll join you when I’m done, then we can make tracks.’

  L’Oiseau took them indoors. The place smelled of paint and plaster. There was a smart fitted kitchen, a casserole in the oven, but no sign of Madame. They went into the salon and admired the inglenook. They weren’t asked to sit down on the cellophane wrapped chairs and sofa.

  ‘Can you ask him who paid him to frame his daughter for arson?’

  Duroc was aghast. He explained to L’Oiseau that the British inspector, who was investigating the death of a British subject, Monsieur Roman, believed that there was new evidence which suggested that Marie-No may not have lit the fire.

  ‘Ask him how he can afford this place on a handyman’s wage.’

  The magistrate coughed before interpreting: ‘He says it was an inheritance of his wife. He says they both regret what Marie-No has done.’

  ‘I think you could find out a lot about about Marie-No by delving into her relationship with her parents. Her defence counsel would do it, if she has access to a barrister. I just want a name.’

  Duroc put the question again. L’Oiseau began to tremble.

  ‘He says they will kill him if he says anything. They’ll burn this house with his wife and him inside it.’

  ‘So he is covering up for somebody. I’ll be back here in a week or so. I expect you’ll have found out who it is by then.’ She left Duroc to it.

  Jem stood up when he saw her come in to the crèperie. He apologised for starting without her.

  ‘I’ll get something on the boat, if you’re ready to go back.’

  He nodded. ‘You know where to reach me, Jacqueline.’

  ‘Will you come to the convention, Madame?’

  ‘I’ll be there. I don’t need a hotel room.’

  5

 
Jem offered to share the drive back to London, but she demurred, citing insurance problems that didn’t exist.

  ‘Then let me drive you to the Convention. I’ll have to bring my car to take the programmes and a lantern I want to put in the auction. That’s all perfectly legal. An auctioneer from Bond Street is coming over to handle the items in that sale. The catalogue was sent to members in advance of the Convention. About the funeral: It will just be me, the priest, and the undertakers. I don’t want anyone else there. I’ll be in touch with you when it’s over about driving you back.’

  ‘I understand. Please let me know if I can help with anything in the meantime.’

  ‘I’ll do that. Thank you so much again for all your help. You have been a great support to me. I know you were going back anyway, to continue your investigation. Good luck with that.’

  She dropped him off on the Georgian street abutting the square, and watched as he carried his mother’s portrait to the lantern shop. The painting was his now. He wouldn’t have to share it with his brother.

  ***

  Niall and his missus, as he now referred to her, came home around midnight. They had been to see a film and had had a drink afterwards in Leicester Square.

  ‘Glad to see you on your feet, son, and looking so much better.’

  ‘We thought you were on secondment.’

  ‘I’ll be out of your hair again in a couple of weeks. I’m going back to Brittany for a Magic Lantern Convention.’

  ‘What’s that about?’ Tanya asked.

  ‘Well, magic lanterns. I thought you’d know a bit about them, Niall, with your interest in the cinema.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I’m going to my bed. It’s been a long day.’

  She loaded the memory stick into her notepad and started reading Roman’s memoir. It began with a description of his childhood. He was the first born of two identical twins, beating his brother into the world by four minutes and twenty seconds. Their mother bolted when they were thirty five months old, and they had been brought up by a nanny called Wendy — like the dog in Peter Pan. They never saw much of their father, and turned to each other at prep school. At the top public school they attended, they were placed in different houses. Jem was a scholar, Peter an oppidan. He didn’t go to university, and refused to join his father in the City. He wanted to attend the university of life, a decision that divorced him from his twin, who couldn’t understand the path he had chosen...