The Circle (40 page)

‘Morning, Santos,' said Servaz.

No answer.

‘Martin, is it true, what Commissioner Santos has told me? Have you … confirmed the facts?'

He nodded. Stehlin shook his head. Commissioner Santos looked at Stehlin and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, ‘Right, what happens now?'

‘I—' began Servaz.

Stehlin held up his hand.

‘I have spoken with Commissioner Santos. He has agreed to postpone your hearing until the investigation is over.'

Something must have happened
… it was impossible otherwise. Santos would never have agreed to a deal if it weren't a matter of the utmost urgency. And Servaz was part of the equation.
Margot!
he thought, his stomach doing a triple flip.

‘Something has come up,' said the director, confirming his hunch.

Servaz waited for what was to come.

‘Do you remember Elvis Elmaz, the guy you interrogated at the hospital?'

Servaz nodded.

‘Last night he was attacked. His life is hanging by a thread.'

‘What happened?'

‘Apparently someone tied him to a chair along with some meat and gave him to his dogs for dinner.'

Servaz looked at his boss, trying to grasp the meaning of his words, then to visualise the scene, but quickly changed his mind.

‘He's in hospital,' continued Stehlin. ‘Half his face has been torn off, his arms and torso have been chewed to the bone in several places, a number of organs are affected, and he has lost a great deal of blood. He's so gravely injured that they took him to the severe burns unit. It's not a pretty sight … and he's unlikely to recover. He went into a coma during the night. If he does make it, it will be thanks to his neighbour, who saw a car go by in the middle of the night and heard the dogs barking in a frenzy. But before he completely lost consciousness in the ambulance, something happened …'

They were getting there.
What was it?
thought Servaz impatiently. Stehlin reached for something on the desk and Servaz saw a transparent plastic evidence bag with a label.

‘He managed to convey to one of the ambulance drivers that he wanted to write something. He had no lips and no tongue either, by then, so he couldn't speak. But …'

Stehlin picked up the evidence bag and handed it to Servaz.

‘This is what he managed to write.'

Servaz took it. He looked at the pad in the bag. The wobbly, awkward, feverish handwriting:

Now he could understand why Santos had made the exceptional decision to agree to postpone his hearing. He felt both intense relief and a burning curiosity.

‘Did you dig around in his past?' asked Stehlin.

Servaz shook his head. He felt dizzy.

‘We dropped the Elvis lead as soon as his alibi turned out to be solid,' he replied.

‘Then I think it must be a spelling mistake,' said Stehlin.

‘It should be “Servaz dig in past”, not “dug”,' said Servaz. ‘Whose past is he talking about? His own?'

‘Probably.'

Servaz felt the wheels of his brain begin to turn.

‘Maybe we dropped the lead too soon. Maybe we should have made sure that Claire Diemar and Elvis Elmaz didn't know each other.'

‘Martin, you've only been on the case for four days. You did what you had to do.'

Servaz understood that this remark was aimed primarily at Santos.

‘And there's something else,' added the director. ‘Paris wants results. Above all, they want to clear Lacaze before everything gets leaked to the press and blows up in their face. So they asked us how far we'd got, and this morning they put pressure on the narcs. Your “Heisenberg” is one of their informers and they passed on his identity. For once they were only too eager to help out. Do you think he might have anything to do with the case?'

Servaz nodded. ‘There can't be that many drug dealers in Marsac, can there? Who knows – maybe he's the one who provided the dope that drugged Hugo.'

Servaz was overheating by the time he left Stehlin's office, and it was only ten o'clock in the morning. He hesitated. He now had two new leads to explore. Where should he begin? To go digging in a past as full as Elvis Konstandin Elmaz's might make him lose time, but the Albanian's last words before he'd lapsed into a coma were flashing like a neon sign in Servaz's mind.

A man in his condition, who knew he might not make it out of hospital alive, had deployed his last ounce of strength to send that message. The message had to be of the utmost importance.

And the message was addressed to him, Servaz.

Elvis Elmaz knew who had killed Claire.

And it was the same person or persons who had fed him to his dogs.

He went through the fire door. A group had gathered in the corridor and Servaz realised that it must be something to do with the football. He tried to give them a wide berth, but he couldn't help overhearing some of their conversation.

‘Martin, what do you think? Do you think France will beat Mexico tomorrow?'

Everyone on the squad knew how much he disliked sports – on television and in general. He caught a few people smiling sardonically.

‘I hope not,' he said as he went past. ‘That way we'll be able to talk about something else for a change.'

There was some half-hearted laughter.

Margot walked along the corridors, feeling everyone's gazes sticking to her like glue. She could tell they were murmuring, exchanging glances behind her back. Fortunately the school year was nearly over. In her ears, Marilyn Manson whispered, ‘I want to disappear'.
Oh yes, mate, me too.

She wondered just what they knew. How much was rumour, and how much was facts? Who had spilled the beans? Certainly not her father, or Vincent, or Samira. Was it David? Sarah? As she approached her locker she saw that a note had been taped to it. Here we go … She could just imagine how people's tongues would wag, spreading the rumour all through the school at the speed of sound: ‘Did you see? Someone left another note on Margot's locker!'
Shit! You bunch of wankers!
There were times when bloody Armageddon seemed like the only solution.

She went straight up to her locker and saw that it wasn't a note, but a drawing. More precisely, a variation on the famous British army recruitment poster where an old general points and says YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU. Uncle Sam's head had been replaced by a fairly blurry portrait of Julian Hirtmann.

Fucking morons! Didn't they have anything better to do?

She tore off the paper, crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the floor. Then she opened her locker. There was another note inside. She recognised the handwriting.
Elias, you little twat, how did you get into my locker?
The note said, ‘I think I've found the Circle.'

Servaz hunted for an aspirin in his desk drawers, to no avail. He went into Samira and Vincent's office and opened Vincent's drawer. Paracetamol, ibuprofen, codeine, tramadol … Vincent and his chemicals.

When he returned to his office he saw that the message button on his desk phone was flashing. He looked at the number, but didn't recognise it. Servaz dialled, and a woman's voice answered: ‘Suzanne Lacaze.'

He frowned. ‘Good morning, Madame Lacaze. Have you been trying to get hold of me?'

A moment of silence.

‘Yes.'

Her voice was even thinner than usual. A murmur stretched like elastic on the verge of snapping. Servaz was uncertain how to behave, but she left him no time to think.

‘It's about my husband.'

There was tension in her voice. Extreme tension. The kind that accompanies a significant act. He felt his pulse beat faster.

‘Yes, go on.'

‘He lied to you the other night … about his alibi.'

Servaz swallowed. Another moment of silence.

‘My husband wasn't at home the evening that woman was killed. And I don't know where he was. If I have to, I will say as much before the judge. And I hope you find the person who did it. Goodbye, Commandant.'

She had hung up. He let out a long breath. Fucking hell! He was going to have to make a few phone calls. He could just imagine the expression on the face of the prosecutor in Auch, and all of a sudden he felt that his day was actually improving.

Heisenberg

Servaz enjoyed the feeling that he was getting closer to his goal; the pieces were beginning to fall into place. There was a sound like a snare drum in his chest. The noise of victory. He sped down the motorway, his foot on the accelerator, the air so hot it trembled in mirages on the horizon.

He thought again about Santos and his summons. He knew that if he could solve this case quickly, the general inspectorate would have to take it into account. But what would happen if he sent the media darling Paul Lacaze to jail, the future head of the ruling party, the man who must not be touched? Wouldn't they be tempted to make him, Servaz, pay for it? They certainly would. And he had given them his head on a platter, back there in the car park. But for the moment, he didn't care. All that remained was the hunter's excitement when he sees the fox caught in the trap.

The fox had a nasty look about him. Lacaze gave Servaz one of those smiles that only he could give, but it changed into a grimace that didn't extend to his eyes. He listened to Servaz without moving, not expressing the slightest emotion in the face of his spouse's betrayal.

‘You were at school in Marsac yourself, Commandant,' said the MP. ‘Isn't that what you told me? Courses in the classics, is that right? Those were my favourite.' Lacaze was playing with a letter opener, feeling the tip with his forefinger. ‘So I'm sure you're familiar with the notion of hubris.'

Servaz merely stared at Lacaze, unmoving. It was yet another alpha male confrontation, always the same things at stake. But this time Lacaze knew he had lost, and he was just trying to save face.

‘Those who tried to rise too high exposed themselves to the
jealousy and anger of the gods. It would seem the gods have chosen my wife as their avenger … I must say, women are unpredictable.'

Servaz agreed with Lacaze on that point, but he did not show it.

‘Has your wife told me the truth?' he asked, with a certain solemnity.

Once again they were sitting in the ultramodern house deep in the woods. Once Servaz had got through to him, they had come back here, at Lacaze's request. But this time there was no sign of Madame. The sun was coming in through the blinds in the picture windows, leaving stripes against the walls covered in photographs that glorified the master of the house.

‘Yes.'

‘Did you kill Claire Diemar?'

‘I suppose I ought to remind you that you cannot accuse me unless I am in custody, which means a prior withdrawal of my immunity – and also that I must call my lawyer – but, to answer your question: no, Commandant, I did not kill her. I loved Claire – and she loved me.'

‘That isn't what Hugo Bokhanowsky said. According to him, Claire was getting ready to leave you.'

‘And why should that be?'

‘Claire and Hugo were lovers.'

Lacaze looked at him in surprise.

‘You can't be serious?'

‘I am.'

Servaz saw Lacaze crease his forehead in doubt. ‘The kid is nuts … Claire never mentioned him. And we were making plans for the future together.'

‘However, you did tell me last time that she didn't want you to leave your wife.'

‘Exactly. As long as she wasn't sure what
she
wanted. And also, as long as Suzanne was … in this state.'

‘You mean,
alive.
'

A black shadow veiled the politician's gaze.

‘Lacaze, had you been spying on Claire over the last few weeks? Did you have any doubts about her?'

‘No.'

‘Were you aware of her affair with Hugo Bokhanowsky?'

‘No.'

‘Were you with her on Friday evening?'

‘No.'

Three firm responses.

‘Where were you on Friday evening?'

Again the smile, and the empty gaze.

‘That, I – I can't tell you.'

Lacaze said this with a smile full of irony, this time, as if he were aware of the comical side of the situation. Servaz let out a sigh.

‘For Christ's sake, Lacaze! I'll have to call the judge and he will in all likelihood request a withdrawal of your immunity if you refuse to cooperate. You're in the process of destroying your own career.'

‘You don't understand, Commandant: if I
do
tell you then my career will be destroyed. Either way, I'm trapped.'

Espérandieu was listening to what he considered one of the best rock albums of 2009,
West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum
, by Kasabian, when someone knocked on the passenger window.

He turned down the sound before opening the door.

‘There's someone we have to see,' said Servaz, climbing into the adjacent seat.