The Chaplin Conspiracy Page 11

  ‘All right, I’ll tell you where she is,’ he groaned.

  ‘That’s better,’ said the gendarme. ‘He said that would work.’

  ‘The pumping station by the well, just below us. You can get to it down the old steps next to the chateau. She’s down there with some friends of mine, and they are all innocent, right? Winnifred has hitched a ride with us, holding us at knifepoint.’

  ‘I understand. Show me the way.’

  The policeman signalled for his colleague to come too. They pulled handguns from their holsters, ready for the encounter, and descended the ancient stone steps from the castle courtyard to the lower level where Charlie’s van was parked close to the entrance to the well. Scabies could see Charlie, Ruby, Ratty and the Patient standing next to the van, chatting and generally looking pleased with themselves until they spotted the approaching armed police.

  ‘It’s OK,’ called Scabies, ‘they’ve come to arrest Winnifred. She in the van?’

  ‘Better than that,’ said Ruby, proudly. ‘She was behind us and I remembered that you said the door would lock itself if we just closed it. So we did. She’s still in there.’

  ‘The old girl seems to have taken it rather decently,’ said Ratty. ‘Haven’t heard a peep from her since we closed her in. I thought she might make more of a to do than that.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Scabies. ‘She’s an expert tunneller, and you’ve locked her into a system of tunnels that runs for miles and ultimately has several exits in and around Rennes. Well done.’

  ‘Gosh, awfully kind—’

  ‘Well done as in shittily done. We just lost the chance of getting her banged up.’

  ‘Ah, that. Yes, I can see why that might be perceived as a less than ideal outcome.’

  ‘And now,’ Scabies continued, ‘she’s got reason to be even more crazy at us than normal. Better watch your backs, guys.’

  ***

  ‘You think it will take them much longer to verify your identity?’

  Justina shrugged. They had waited four hours already. She didn’t seem to mind how long it took. They were comfortable in the library of the elegant town house to which the Templar had driven them. It was located in the heart of Rennes-les-Bains, a Roman spa town that shone dimly with the faded grandeur of its more illustrious past. The desk in the room was covered with baskets of croissants, jams, a couple of baguettes and some bottled water. The door was locked and the windows appeared to be screwed down, but they had a sofa and a plush writing chair at their disposal. A long wait in this environment wouldn’t be too bad. Rocco had begun to scan the bookshelves, looking for something that might help pass the time. He selected a volume about the history of the Knights Templar and sat down again.

  ‘How long have you known about your ancestry?’ he asked, thumbing through the pages without paying them any attention.

  ‘About five years,’ she replied. ‘I’ve been planning this trip for a long time. I thought I’d worked it all out – probable tomb and crypt locations, tunnels that could be extended to get to where I wanted to go. Turns out I screwed up with my choice of assistant. I’m really pissed about that, you know. I put so much energy into convincing and controlling her. It was like breaking a wild horse. Just when I thought I’d got her tamed I realised that ultimately she was uncontrollable. Whatever force it is that drives Winnifred, you can’t turn it to good. I feel like I’ve unleashed a monster and it’s all my fault.’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself. How could you have known that an escaped convict would turn out to be a bad person?’

  ‘That’s not funny, Rocco.’

  ‘So you have all the records you need,’ he began, changing the subject, ‘to prove your descent from Saunière and Emma Calvé?’

  ‘Not a hundred per cent, no.’

  ‘What do you mean? If you don’t have proof then we’re in deep shit and we should start finding a way out of here!’

  ‘It’s half documentary evidence, and half circumstantial, but the conclusion is obvious and inescapable. I can prove the Emma Calvé part, and my great-grandfather’s birth occurred during the period in which she had been seeing Saunière romantically. I think that’s proof enough, don’t you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think, Justina. It matters what these crazy knights think. And they’re going to pull your theory to pieces, which won’t be hard because it’s full of holes. Firstly, there’s no proof that Saunière ever actually slept with Calvé. And even if he did, that does not remove the possibility that she was also seeing someone else in the same time period. So while your stated ancestry represents a possible truth, it’s by no means certain or even probable. Shit. I think we’re in trouble here.’

  ‘Relax, Rocco. Even if they’re not convinced, they can’t rule out the possibility that I might be related to the priest, and therefore they have to treat us with the respect that such a descendant deserves, even if they won’t hand over whatever it is they’ve got stashed away for me.’

  ‘I don’t like this. Not one bit.’ He threw down the book and ran to the window to examine its fastenings more closely. ‘Phillips. P3 size. Do you have such a screwdriver?’

  ‘Let me just check in the extensive tool kit I always carry with me,’ she replied. ‘Oddly enough, no, I don’t have one. Or anything else.’

  Rocco considered whether smashing the glass and part of the wooden frame would attract unwelcome attention. The sky outside was darkening in preparation for the arrival of a storm. That could provide visual cover for an escape attempt. And the shallow river that flowed past the window, directly through the centre of the town, created a useful veil of white noise as it tumbled over rocks and tree trunks. But anyone within the building would nevertheless hear the sound of breaking glass, at least until the weather deteriorated.

  ‘Do you think a library like this would have a hidden doorway behind some books?’ he asked, nudging each bookcase in turn to test for signs of movement.

  ‘I don’t care. You’re missing the bigger picture, Rocco. The Templars are guarding something. They’ve always been guardians of the Holy Grail, whatever the hell that really means, but now they’re looking after something of great value until an heir to the Saunière fortune comes forward. What could that be?’

  ‘What does it matter? If they don’t buy your ancestry story we’re doomed. We know too much. They’ll make sure we won’t be around to find out whatever it was they were going to give you. Let’s work on a plan to save ourselves and worry about their secrets later.’

  He started tapping and tugging at every surface within the room, and continued doing so as she spoke.

  ‘No, listen to me. What’s at stake is possibly the greatest secret on the planet. We’re closer than anyone has ever come to uncovering it. I’m not going to quit, Rocco.’

  ‘The shelves all seem real,’ Rocco said. ‘We can’t break through the window just yet without attracting attention. What about the floor and the ceiling?’ He stomped around in circles and lifted the corner of a rug, then stared upwards in the vain hope of finding a hatch while Justina folded her arms and waited. ‘Nothing. That just leaves the door. We know they locked it. We don’t know if they’re guarding it on the other side. If not, maybe we can pick the lock or force the door without making too much—’

  He stopped himself. There was no point in continuing. The lock turned and the door opened.

  ***

  The rosé sloshed as the glasses chinked. Ratty looked Ruby in the eye and winked at her. The journey to Rennes had not been as he would have planned it, and the unfortunate circumstances concerning the discovery of a body at Stiperstones Manor dictated that he hadn’t even had the opportunity to bring his ground penetrating radar with him, but he was delighted to have arrived and doubly so to be sharing the experience with his oldest friend.

  ‘Where are the others dining?’ she asked.

  ‘I know not and I care even less. It’s just the two of us. A treat of exquisite rarity.’

  The res
taurant had only just opened for the evening and they were, as yet, the sole diners. The ominous clouds dictated the choice of an indoor table rather than the leafy terrace, but the approaching rain didn’t dampen their moods. Ruby slurped her wine and smiled. Provided the awful American woman kept out of their way she could regard the forthcoming experience as a holiday. There was no treasure to be found, but the village of Rennes-le-Château was awash with meaningless clues and unsolved puzzles and she was sure it would be enjoyable to play along and help Ratty’s pointless quest until word arrived from England that it was safe for them to return.

  The waitress brought two steaming steaks to the table.

  ‘What’s your plan, Ratty?’

  ‘I was thinking of perhaps starting with the steak and then working my way around to the frites by way of the haricots verts.’

  ‘Very drôle,’ she sighed. ‘But how will you start your investigations? And now that you have such a large entourage, what are you going to do with everyone?’

  ‘A spectacularly pertinent question,’ he replied.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Oh, you want me to answer it today? Goodness. Hadn’t really got round to assigning any of the old grey matter to the problem.’

  ‘I thought not. But I’ve already thought it through for you. It’s not practical for all of us to stick together all the time. We’ll attract too much attention and get on each other’s nerves. We should get together for breakfast and allocate areas of investigation for the day, and then meet up in the evenings and compare notes. That way we can cover more ground in the time we have available.’

  ‘How exhilarating!’

  ‘I thought perhaps you and the Patient could team up, Charlie can work with Rocco, and I’ll partner with Scabies.’

  Ratty’s face fell far enough for her to fear it might droop into his steak. She’d known it would do that, and she took a guilty pleasure from her moment of gentle cruelty.

  ‘I’m not sure those team allocations are appropriate,’ said Ratty. ‘I mean, in the interests of the success of the mission. The balance of skills and personalities and wotnots must be considered most scrupulously.’

  The artificial straightness on Ruby’s face could no longer resist the temptation to curl and bend. She erupted in a howl of laughter. ‘If you could only see yourself, Ratty! Of course I’ll partner with you. I was winding you up.’

  ‘Golly, yes, most amusing,’ he croaked, chewing on a piece of meat in an attempt to hide the blushing cheeks that shouted his embarrassment with such volume. ‘But why would you do such a thingy?’

  ‘Because if I don’t, who else will?’ Ruby replied. ‘Anyway, no one’s seen Rocco since we got here. He might not even be interested in this subject any more. He does tend to flit from one conspiracy theory to another. So really we need a three and a two. You and me, and then Charlie with Scabies and the Patient. How’s that?’

  ‘Infinitely superior to your prior pronouncement,’ he replied. ‘And where do you suggest we begin?’

  ‘Well they’ve got transport, we haven’t. So they should go to check out the surrounding villages and tombs and castles – anything that we can’t realistically get to on foot. That means we base ourselves in the village, but it also makes us more likely to encounter Winnifred if she returns. Does that bother you?’

  ‘Golly, no. I’ve had nannies more frightening than she. Her wotsname is worse than her thingy.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But I sense that Scabies wants to focus on the village, too,’ said Ratty. ‘He knows about the tunnel locations and who to bribe for access and he appears to have the key to every door in town.’

  ‘So you don’t want to partner with me?’ she asked, pretending to be hurt.

  ‘Goodness goshness gollyness yesness, of course I do, old wallaby.’

  ‘Wallaby?’

  ‘Sorry. I panicked. But the Patient and Charlie can do the vehicular excursions. I think we need Scabies with us in the village, even though the mention of his unsavoury name gives me the collywobbles.’

  ‘His name? What, Rat?’

  ‘You know perfectly well that which I was hitherto implicitly referencing.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Ruby, ‘sometimes I think you get paid by the syllable. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d be concerned that you were choking on a dictionary.’

  He forced an apologetic grin in her direction.

  ‘So now that the personnel issues are sorted let’s not worry about all the treasure or the fire or the police or any of the crazy stuff for a few hours. Let’s just enjoy this meal and each other’s company.’

  ‘Do you?’ he asked.

  Ruby said nothing, waiting for the long words that were suddenly and inexplicably absent.

  ‘Well? Do you?’

  ‘Do I what?’

  ‘Enjoy my company?’ He sounded like a trembling teenager making his first approach to the opposite sex.

  ‘Why do you ask that?’ she asked, downing the rest of her rosé in a single uncomfortable gulp.

  ‘My conviction is that you are already cognisant with the answer theretofore,’ he replied, unable to resist the pull towards polysyllabic nonsense caused by his nervous tension. He finished his wine too and refilled both glasses from the bottle, failing to prevent his shaking hand from spilling pink droplets on the tablecloth.

  ‘I love it when you talk rubbish. It’s what makes you special.’

  ‘Special as in exceptional, or special as in needs?’ he asked.

  She smiled. He was both. But she knew where he was trying to direct the conversation, and it was a subject they had attempted to bury during recent months. He was in love with her and she wasn’t in love with him and the last thing she wanted was for that inconvenient truth to affect their friendship in any way.

  ‘You’re special to me,’ she told him. ‘And you always will be. Do you want dessert?’

  ‘Is that offer a euphemistic one?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Ratty glugged more wine into his throat and felt the barriers of social convention melt away. ‘I can’t help what I feel, Ruby. I have to tell you and I don’t care if you think any less of me as a result. The fact is, my heart flutters and flitters and flaps like a seagull in an oil slick whenever I’m in your presence.’

  ‘What a lovely and romantic image, Ratty.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s this ticker of mine. It’s pounding so hard it feels like I’ve got a little Frank Bruno locked up in there, trying to get out.’

  ‘A better image, but still a bit weird, to be honest.’

  ‘You have an effect on me that has not been recorded in the vicinity of any other female of our species … or any other.’

  ‘Reassuring.’

  ‘You have an aura of warmth and love and gorgeousness and I love to climb inside that glow and feel safe and content and connected to you.’

  ‘Hop aboard, any time.’

  ‘Don’t mock me, Ruby. You know what I’m trying to convey, and you know how utterly challenging it is for me to deliver the appropriate words to you from my unconfident mouth.’

  ‘So don’t say it,’ she told him. ‘It will only stress you out. Let’s just pretend that you’ve already said it. I will then give you a kiss on the cheek and a hug, and tell you that I appreciate it and it means a great deal to me, and that I love you too as my friend, and that our friendship is one of the most important things in my life, and that we must ensure we don’t do anything silly to jeopardise that friendship.’

  ‘Oh,’ sighed Ratty.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘You really hate me that much?’

  Ruby laughed and walked around to Ratty’s side of the table. She hugged him and kissed him, as promised.

  ‘Is he always trying to shag you?’ asked Scabies, arriving abruptly and shaking the raindrops from his hair like a dog. ‘Good thing the place is empty. You’d put people off their food.’

  ‘It’s not what it looks like
,’ said Ratty, deciding to omit the word ‘regrettably’.

  ‘That’s what they always say. Anyway, we’ve been looking all over for you two. Something’s come up.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your friend Rocco,’ said Scabies. ‘Turns out he was arrested with another American woman. The one who brought Winnifred here. Word has been spreading around the village that they might have done the murders in the chateau, but the police handed them over to the Templars.’

  ‘As in the Knights?’ asked Ruby. ‘They don’t still exist, do they?’

  ‘Who do you think has been controlling this village and restricting archaeological progress here for the past half a century?’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘They’re just doing what they’ve always done. Guarding shit. Being secretive. Wearing big swords and ensuring continuity. Of something. Dunno.’

  ‘So Rocco is with these Templar chaps,’ said Ratty. ‘Is there anything we need to do? Is it really necessary to interrupt our meal? Some of the desserts at this establishment are of such culinary significance that nothing short of a cataclysm of global proportions can justify declining the third course.’

  ‘Just stop rambling and come with us,’ said Scabies. ‘I’ve met the local Templars. If you stay in their good books they’re a nice bunch, but certain things can make them turn nasty. Murdering a senior member of their group, for instance, is something they tend to frown upon.’

  ‘Rocco wouldn’t do a thing like that!’ exclaimed Ruby.

  ‘That’s not what the locals are saying. Police too. He’s in big shit, Ruby.’

  ‘But what can we do?’

  ‘Follow me. And bring a brolly. I think I know where they’ve taken him.’

  ***

  ‘This is not champagne,’ said the Templar, offering a glass first to Justina and then to Rocco. ‘It is the local sparkling wine of Limoux. We call it blanquette. It is superior to champagne in many respects, and was produced here years before its more famous rival was introduced.’

  Rocco sipped the wine slowly, permitting himself a moment of indulgence while not letting it dull his senses. He didn’t know what this was leading up to, and a risky and energetic escape attempt might still be required of him.