That Will Do Nicely (21 page)

"I'm just trying to get you to be honest with me, Tom. When we first met and I found out what you were really up to, you didn't have any alternative but to make use of me as best you could. True?"

"That was a long time ago.., but yes, that's basically true."

"And you were on the rebound from your wife at the time, so when I granted you the odd
favor, I took her place, filled a void if you like. O.K., I was using you just as much... because I'd been hurt too many times by men.., so I let the relationship develop, as long as it was on my terms. Then I ran into a problem.., I found you weren't as chauvinistic as the other men I'd had and that you treated me more or less as an equal. That came as a shock and it's taken me a long time to let my defenses down a little and start trusting again."

"So what's the problem?" b
y this point, he had no idea which way she would turn.

"As far as men go, you're the best I've met; the most interesting by far and you have filled a large piece of my life. However, I have never planned on being tied down to you or anyone else."

"So your answer's 'no'."

"Look at it from my point of view. A year or so ago, I had just survived a divorce. I had made my own independent career and was standing on my o
wn two feet answering to nobody and then you come along. You con me; work your way into my bed; make me fall in love with you to such an extent that I volunteer my help in this mad hair-brained scheme of yours which we have just brought off and now, to top it all, you expect me to settle down with you in a remote part of Eden for the rest of my life. What I'm saying, Tom is that I need time. Time to get my feet back on the ground. Any answer I give you before I've done that won't be real, just a continuation of the fantasy. So, for your sake, I'll go along with what you want to do here. It can be a joint venture if you like. I'll put up half the money - but in ten days’ time, I'm going to be back in Canterbury, teaching at the college, getting back to normal."

"You're not serious?"

"If you do love me; if you really care for me, you'll give me the time I need."

"What then?"

"I intend to work out my contract until the end of the Summer term and then I'll decide what I'm going to do with my share of the money."

"And what about me?"

"If I find I can live my old life without you.., fine."

"And if you can't?"

She reached across the table and clasped his hand in hers. Her gaze flicked over his face.

"Then I shall be the happiest person alive, because you're a very rare man
and it'll be a privilege to share in your victory."

"But? There's always got to be a 'but'
. I sense a ‘but’.”

"If I find I
can't live without you, I shall expect you to make an honest woman of me when the time comes." The news shattered Pascoe.

"I thought marriage was the last thing you were interested in?"

"It certainly was, but things have changed and thinking about it.., it does have certain advantages."

"Such as?"

"I would be able to stop taking the wretched pill for a start, which is making me fat."

"You want to get married just to stop taking the pill
... I don't believe you."

"All right, I was pulling your leg
... but it does have one important advantage."

"Which is?"

"Husbands and wives can't testify against each other in a court of law; at least that's what you told me your solicitor said about you and Terry."

"So if they happened to catch one of us the other would be safe?"

"Quite, and can you really imagine us living around here and not being married? I'd only have a few years left any way, before I would be expected to dress in black from head to foot according to their peasants’ religious beliefs. You see darling, I think marriage would be a necessity here and it would also stop the children from being bastards."

"You never told me you wanted children."

"I didn't.., then."

"So now you've changed your mind."

"Only if I can't live without you. You know you'd make a wonderful father. Didn't Terry want children?"

"Not at the time. Too inconvenient for her."

"I see... "

"So when will you make your decision about us?"

"I've already told you that... by the end of the summer term at the latest."

"In the meantime?"

"We carry on as before."

After the meal Pascoe phoned Terry at the farm.

"Hi Terry, it's Tom Pascoe. Have you any news for me?"

"We've found two places for you so far
... both within two or three miles of here. They're both disused farms... one's a little bit more run down than the other."

"Would you say they were habitable?"

"Yes, both of them are, in part.., but they need a lot of work doing."

"That's not a problem. How much land is there with them?"

"One includes 40 hectares and the other, seven hectares."

"Good, they sound interesting. What do we do now?"

"I've made an appointment for you with the mayor at 11.00 a.m., tomorrow morning at his office at Rennes-le-Château. I'll meet you there at 10.45 a.m., and introduce you."

"S
ee you tomorrow then.., and thanks, Terry."

On his return, Sam greeted his news with a yawn.

"Tired?"

"A l
ittle. Are you coming to bed?" she asked, standing up from the table, gathering her things.

"It's only half past nine."

"I know, but I didn't say anything about sleep, just bed. Finish your brandy darling, but don't keep me waiting too long!"

They slept-in until nine o'clock the next morning and consequently were the only ones in the dining room for breakfast. Just when they were beginning to feel a little guilty at causing the breakfast staff to work again, a matronly woman sat down three tables away. She was well into her seventies and carrying excess weight which hung as huge folds of fat about her ample figure. She was obviously at the Spa Hotel for its health facilities and the Spa was losing the battle!

One of the more delightful aspects of the hotel was its situation at the side of the river Sals, which flows through the village of Rennes-les-Bains. The view from the dining-room windows was magical, as you could see the flow of the Sals, thundering its way downstream.

"We'd better make a move darling," said Pascoe, glancing at his watch.

"Why? The meeting's not until 10.45."

"I know, but there are one or two things I want to do first."

"Such as?"

"I want to get a large scale map of the area, they sell them in the library."

They left the hotel and crossed the Sals by means of the hotel's own private footbridge, some 30 feet above the river. A two minute stroll took them to the book-shop where an old fashioned bell fixed on a spring over the inside of the door announced their arrival to the owner, who appeared, instantaneously through the curtains at the back of the shop. Pascoe bade him the usual 'bonjour monsieur' and requested the maps he was interested in.

It was already twenty past ten by the time they left the library and as they had a rendezvous at the mayor's office at eleven they had little time to lose.

"How do we go about buying it?" enquired Sam, as they drove up the valley.

"By going to see the mayor. Everything revolves around the mayor in these country districts
... if we make a good impression on him, the problems can disappear, but without his blessing it'll be impossible."

“What time did you say we'd meet Terry?" She asked.

"Ten forty-five, outside the mayor's office."

"It's nearly that now."

"We'll be there in time."

Rennes-le-Château

They arrived with a few minutes in hand and spent them gazing at the panorama from the mountain top. Pascoe's thoughts were interrupted by a hand placed on his shoulder. Startled, he spun around to find himself facing Terry.

"Hello Terry, how are things." They shook hands.

"Fine. We're in good time. Our appointment's at eleven sharp
... just leave the talking to me."

They crossed the area of dust covered ground, which was used as the village car-park and instead of bearing left towards the church, moved to the right and followed the tiny street down from the water tower in the car-park. The mayor's
parlor was but a few yards away. They climbed the steps and entered the office.

In comparison to the rest of the village which could best be described as poverty stricken, the Mayor's pa
rlor was a palace. A severe looking woman, with a weather beaten face who seemed forty or fifty, but was still probably in her mid- twenties, acknowledged them. After Terry had spoken to her for a few seconds, she got up, knocked on the door to the mayor's inner office before opening it and beckoned them in. Pascoe left the introductions to Terry.

Pascoe listened carefully to the conversation between Terry and the mayor, but what with his rusty use of the language and the almost Spanish accent of the region, understood little of what was being said. The mayor gestured with his hands, as much as he spoke, which left Pascoe even more confused. The interview lasted 20 minutes, during which time
neither Pascoe nor Sam uttered a single word. Eventually the mayor stood up, signifying that matters had been brought to a close. They endured the hand-shaking ritual and after bidding 'au revoir' to the mayor and his secretary, filed out of the room into the street below. Outside, Pascoe opened the inquest as to what had happened."

"You've nothing to worry about," said Terry, "The mayor
has agreed to help you and has two properties for sale. If you're willing to wait 15 minutes, he will take you to them."

"Great. Are you coming too?" Pascoe asked, eager for his friend’s company.

"I might as well. They're not expecting me back at the farm until this afternoon."

The three of them strolled back up the street towards the priest's Magdala Library tower, perched on the precipice at the top of the hill and discussed the view.

"I'm sure you men have some catching up to do," said Sam, "Do you mind if I go and have another look at the church?"

"Go ahead darling
.., we'll meet you back at the mayor's office in ten minutes..."

"What do you make of all the mysteries that are connected with this place, Terry?"

"You mean Lincoln's book,
'The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail
'?"

"Yeah, and the treasures of the Visigoths, Merovingians etc., I find it hard to imagine 30,000 people living up here in the dark ages
... there can only be 100 or so now."

"Yes it is hard to believe, but we have found things at the farm which are just as mysterious."

“Such as?"

"We've found Celtic remains, earthworks, masonry. They even terraced off the complete top of a nearby hillside in order to farm it and they did things with standing stones which are beyond belief."

"Like?"

"We found one stone deep in the woods, which was cubic in shape and balanced with one corner sitting on top of the corner of another stone embedded in the ground."

"Quite a feat.." Commented Pascoe.

"Especially, when the rock weighs more than 50 tons!" Before Pascoe could question his friend further however, a voice sounded just behind him.

"Hey, Mr. Guyton? it is Mr. Guyton isn't it?" A chill ran down through Pascoe's spine, but as there was no one else around except for himself and Terry to whom the voice could possibly have been speaking, they turned around. Several feet away from them, but looming larger by the second, was one of the Americans from the conference. Pascoe knew he had been recognized. As he turned towards the man though, the American faltered in his step and Pascoe knew instinctively that the man wasn't sure.

"Your na
me's not Guyton, is it Terry?" asked Pascoe.

"Certainly not."

"We'd better humor him then."

The American offered his hand to each of them in turn.

"Howard Clinton...," the American introduced himself.

"I'm Tom Pascoe and this is Terry Wilding. Neither of us is this Guyton fellow you seem to be looking for."

The American looked crestfallen at his mistake. Pascoe, relieved that the recognition hadn't been 100 %, saw room to worm his way out of the situation.

"I'm sorry. I must be mistaken," added the American, "Are you sure you weren't at a conference at the Grosvenor Hotel in London, two weeks ago?"

"Quite sure," they said, almost in unison.

"O.K
... no offence meant... The other guy did have a beard."

"They can cover a multitude of sins
.., beards." Pascoe commented, "I'm afraid we've got to be going Mr. Clinton, as we have an appointment with the mayor."

"Sure. I'm sorry to have troubled you
..." The American turned and walked back down the street in the direction of the church. Pascoe hoped he wouldn't run into Sam. The thought of the American having a second chance encounter made his blood run cold.

The mayor was already waiting for them, when they arrived.

"Vous-avez vos voitures?"

"Oui monsieur", echoed Terry and Pascoe.

The mayor climbed into a dusty Citroen DS 19 which, with its variable suspension, was eminently suited for the rugged countryside. By the time they had started their cars, Sam was still missing. Pascoe was worried, thinking of her possibly being cornered in the church by the American. As it happened, just when he was at the point of going to look for her, she appeared at the junction of the street with the path to the church. Pascoe motioned to her to hurry up and as soon as she was on board he sounded the horn to signal they were ready. Slowly the convoy moved off, following the road out of the village.

At the cross-roads the mayor turned right, as if to go to Terry's farm, then later on turned right again up a rough and rutted track several hundred yards before reaching Terry's farm. The place was called 'les Boudous' on the map, a name which meant nothing to either of them.

It was built on a plateau overlooking the valley of 'la Valdieu' and with a similar view of the landscape as could be seen from Terry's farm, lower down. The buildings were ruins.., but nothing a small fortune couldn't put right. The mayor showed them around the old farmhouse. Inside – nothing, including the walls and roof could be said to be of a sound structure; indeed, in the center of what was once a sizeable room, grew a fully developed tree. The building needed to be gutted and re-built. The roof, conspicuous by its absence, consisted of the odd dark oak beams and you could see straight through to the sky above. The walls, such as they were, were in a terrible state with the plaster from them lying in chunks over the floor. The best feature of the larger room downstairs was an enormous open fire-place with its throat some five feet wide... big enough to spit roast the odd pig or sheep. The entire ground floor was covered with flagstones, each stone a full half-meter square. They went back outside.

"Ask the mayor how much land there is with this property." Pascoe asked Terry.

"This property has seven and a half hectares, which stretches from the col over to the right to about 200 yards to your left, and from the ridge behind you to the bottom of the little valley here in front of you." Terry informed him after a short conversation with the mayor.

"Thanks Terry."

"C'est combien monsieur?" Pascoe asked the mayor in his best French.

"Trente millions anciens." Sam overheard the figure and looked staggered.

"C'est cher monsieur." Pascoe blew on his finger tips and shook his hand vigorously up and down as he spoke, one of the few gestures whose meaning he knew." C'est un prix pour un anglais!"

"Bien sure, mais vous-etes un anglais
," replied the Mayor.

"Pas de tout. Je suis demi-American."

"That makes a difference monsieur.., shall we say twenty-five million ancien", the mayor suddenly broke into fairly fluent English and it took Pascoe several seconds to adjust.

"Old francs?" Pascoe queried.

"Of course."

"Then if the view from here is better than from the other place you have to show us, you have got yourself a deal Mr. Mayor." Pascoe smiled as he proffered his hand to the mayor and turned to Sam.

"What do you think darling?"

"I think 25 million of anything is a hell of a lot of money."

"Monsieur le Mayor is talking in old francs... there were a hundred old ones to each new franc. This property is something less than £22,000 including the seventeen acres of land." After his explanation, Sam laughed and when Pascoe explained the reason for her laughter to Terry and the Mayor, they joined in the laughter.

"What do we do for the usual services Mr. Mayor?"

"For water, you have the spring nearby. For electricity it is possible to have the mains connected but it is expensive; most people here have their own generator, which solves the problem. For the sewage, we make a pit and put in a fosse septique... a septic tank."

"How long would it take to process the papers
, Monsieur le mayor?"

"When would you have the money?" The mayor asked in turn.

"I already have it, in cash... ready."

"Then as soon as you are ready to hand over the payment the property will be yours."

"Are there not registrations to be made and solicitors to be involved?" asked Pascoe, not knowing how the transactions were made. The mayor laughed, loudly.

"All registrations are made through the office of the local notaire, who is my cousin. I am already the agent for the owner of this property, and if you wish, I can act as agent for you as well."

"That seems a little bit immoral," speculated Pascoe smiling.

"I am sure it is, but it saves a lot of bureaucracy."

"What about legal searches through the records of the parish?"

"Monsieur Pascoe. No one is likely to build a road through here. If it has taken four thousand years to build one to Rennes-le-Château, I assure you it is unlikely we will build two within the space of a mere century."

“What about planning permission?" Pascoe added.

"You submit your drawings to my office for approval. I have not yet refused anyone. If you make such an application and don't receive a reply from my office within ten days, then permission will have been granted."

"What do you think, darling. Just look at the view."

"I think it
's ideal for what we want to do. I'm in favor." She said, studying the landscape intently, looking across the valley to the pine forests and the mountains beyond.

"Monsieur le Mayor, you've got yourself a deal."

They completed the purchase of the property known as 'les Boudous' at the mayor's office at four o'clock that afternoon. There was little comparison with the English method of property dealing - of contracts being exchanged or dates set.

Once the formalities were over, Pascoe re-approached the mayor.

"Yes monsieur Pascoe.., there is something else perhaps?"

"I understand that now as I am a property owner in France, it is possible for me to open a bank account?"

"Bien sure.., you wish to do this?"

"I will certainly need to, in order to pay the accounts of the builders that I will have to employ."

"Of course. Perhaps you would like me to introduce you to the bank at Couiza?"

"If that is possible, I should be delighted."

"Nothing could be simpler Monsieur Pascoe. I will phone  immediately."

"Merci, monsieur le mayor." Pascoe thanked him. In all it had been an extremely good day.

Roberts was in buoyant mood when he arrived at Forbes' office, hardly able to contain the news of O'Hara/Freiburg's arrest. Heath was the first to speak.

"I followed through what we agreed this morning and visited each of the major clearing banks in the City and spread the word."

"Is that it?"
asked Roberts.

"That's all I could do,
Sir. I informed them that we were enquiring about the travelers’ cheques; distributed the photographs and said we would be interested if any more of them showed up."

"Well I suppose that that's as much as we could hope for at this stage." commented Roberts." How about you, Duncan?"

"I started with the U.S. Treasury Department in Washington," said Forbes, referring to his notebook." They are going to co-operate with us on this through their Embassy here and gave me the name of a Mike Conrad to contact. I also spoke with one of the senior vice-presidents of American Express in New York."