The Tenth Chamber Part 31

'We're called Unit 70,' Gatinois said.

Marolles looked down and shook his head. It was a gesture that caught Luc's attention and alarmed him. This man, Gatinois, had apparently crossed some line. Some dangerous line.

'You know, during the war, the Resistance leadership, as loose as it was, gave the Ruac maquis a code for the purpose of their communications. They called them Squad 70. They were a particularly ruthless and effective group. The Germans feared them. The other maquisard distrusted them. When our unit was set up in 1946, our founder, General Henri Giraud, one of de Gaulle's inner circle, chose the name. Not very creative, but it stuck.'

'I know about Ruac's role in the Resistance,' Luc said. 'Tell me something I don't know.'

'Yes, I'm sure you know quite a lot. We're going to find out how much.' He pointed to Pelay. 'How much do you know about this man?'

'Nothing,' Luc said.

'He's an old b.u.g.g.e.r, this Pelay. Maybe two hundred and thirty, two hundred and forty years old. Even he isn't sure exactly. He became a doctor in the 1930s. They sent him to Lyon for training. They needed one of their kind. They'd never allow an outsider to treat them, of course. But Pelay's always been a drinker and a talker. During the war, he was Bonnet's number two in Squad 70. Giraud invited him to Algiers for a sit-down. He got good and drunk one night and spilled the beans to de Gaulle and Giraud! Hundreds of years of secrecy, and this buffoon gets drunk and blows it. Their longevity, the tea, the reasons they're so aggressive. Everything. So, after the war, de Gaulle remembers this, of course, and decides Ruac needs to be watched, to be studied by the best minds.'

Sara's head seemed to be clearing. She stood straighter, her eyes were more focused. 'And that's that's what you do?' she asked. There was a bite of anger to her tone. what you do?' she asked. There was a bite of anger to her tone.

Gatinois nodded. 'Yes, for sixty-five years we've been studying the Ruac tea. It's remarkable really, Professor Mallory, and a testament to modern science that in a very short time you were able to learn many of the features of the tea, things that took us decades because we had to wait for the science to catch up to our needs. So, for example, I believe Dr Prentice would have told you about the activity he found at these so-called longevity genes, the serotonin receptors, the other effects.'

'And that's why you killed Fred?' she asked angrily.

'Well, we didn't really have a choice.' He was casual about it, completely casual.

'Christ!' Luc exclaimed. 'You blew up the lab in England! Over forty people were killed! This was a state-sponsored act of terror!'

Gatinois sighed. 'I wouldn't characterise it that way. We have a remit to protect France's greatest secret. Our methods aren't subject to review and clearance. Nothing is known higher up. Nothing is official. As long as we are absolutely discreet, all is well.'

Luc felt his fear mounting. This man was telling him too much. The implications were clear enough but still, his desire to know more pushed him on. 'And you had Bonnet kill my people, and try to kill Sara and me in Cambridge.'

Gatinois laughed at that. 'Did you hear that, Marolles! That's a good one! No, Professor. Bonnet didn't even know we existed. None of them did, except for Pelay here. Pelay was our man. Our informer. Giraud and de Gaulle turned him after the war, after they controlled the government. They gave him money. They gave him secret medals and all the status he never got under Bonnet's thumb. They b.u.t.tered him up good, and then they threatened him. They threatened to let Bonnet know he'd talked. He knew Bonnet would carve him up and feed him to the pigs. That was his greatest fear. We've used the same approach with the good doctor ever since. So Pelay's been giving us information for sixty-five years. Every time one of the villagers saw him for a problem, we got a sample of their blood, their urine, their swabs, whatever. We got regular reports. That's all. What Bonnet did these murders he did on his own.'

'You let him!' Sara screamed. 'So you're responsible too!'

Gatinois shrugged it off. 'Maybe. In a legal sense, who knows? But this is never going to a court of law. What we do is very secret and very protected. It's probably easier to get France's nuclear launch codes! But, yes, we let Bonnet be Bonnet.'

Sara stiffened and leaped forward. Her slight body turned into a weapon, and letting loose a blood-curdling, 'You f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' she closed the gap between herself and Gatinois, her sheet falling away, and naked she began clawing at his face, his eyes.

Gatinois was too caught off guard to defend himself well so Marolles pulled her off. Others subdued her while Marolles pointed his pistol at Luc and warned him to stay put.

Luc was stunned by Sara's action, the way she was kicking and screaming at her subduers with wild abandon. 'Don't hurt her!' he shouted.

Gatinois blotted a streak of blood on his cheek with a handkerchief. 'You see, Professor. That's a graphic example with one of the problems with the drug. It's a delayed effect, maybe an hour or two after the high wears off. I'm told it's the action on the 5-HT2A receptors.' He guffawed. 'You know, this job has turned me into a scientist, what do you think, Marolles?' receptors.' He guffawed. 'You know, this job has turned me into a scientist, what do you think, Marolles?'

His aide grunted and told the men to cuff her wrists and ankles, cover her back up and put her inside the car until she calmed down. She yelled and swore at them ferociously but they managed to remove her from their midst, all the while pointing rifles at Luc and threatening him not to intervene.

'Good,' Gatinois said. 'Much quieter.'

'You've gotten a drug out of the broth?' Luc finally asked.

'Not one. Three, actually. We've had them since the 1970s but, as I said, it's taken until now to begin to understand the biological characteristics of the most important compound, R-422. These longevity genes, SIRT1 and FOXO3A were only recently discovered. There will undoubtedly be other important things scientists will come up with in the future. Eventually we'll understand how 422 works. The other ones are easier, better-defined. The main ergot drug, R-27, makes you high as a kite. It's quite the hallucinogen, really sends you on a trip. The drug R-220, that's an interesting one. It works on potency and libido. In fact, we had a bit of a scandal on that one in the late 1980s. We had an outside contractor working on the compound, a university chemist who didn't have a clue where it came from that's the way we like to work and he apparently pa.s.sed some information about the chemical structure to some guy he knew at the pharmaceutical company, Pfizer. That, apparently, was how v.i.a.g.r.a was invented, so I think we've given back to society, wouldn't you say? But our drug, R-220, though it's even stronger than v.i.a.g.r.a, has a nasty side-effect. It shortens and paralyses the sperm tails, makes the men infertile.'

Luc nodded knowingly.

'And this you were aware of?' Gatinois asked.

'Yes, I knew. From the rapes.'

'Ah. But from our perspective, R-422 is the real gem. That's what all the fuss is about. That's what Unit 70 is about. Imagine! The genuine fountain of youth! Live for two hundred years! Three hundred! In good health! And where are the heart attacks? Where are the cancers? What can this do for mankind, eh? Think about it.'

'But,' Luc said emphatically.

'Yes, but,' Gatinois agreed. 'That's the problem. That's why there's secrecy. The violence, the aggression, the impulsivity. These are not trivial effects. The drug can turn a man into a wild animal, a killer if the circ.u.mstances are right. And what about other longterm effects on personality, the mind? With Pelay's help, the people of Ruac have been our guinea pigs for sixty-five years. There's a mountain of data to sort out. The epidemiologists call it a longitudinal study. But most importantly, we've been working very hard to get the scientists to modify the drug, to change its structure to retain the longevity effects and eliminate the serotonin effect. So far, no luck. You lose the rage, you lose the longevity. It's more complicated than that but anyway, it's how a layman under-stands it. So you see?'

'I see that Sara and I have been inconvenient for you.'

'Inconvenient. Yes, a good word, but somewhat understated,' he said, waving the hand clutching the blood-stained handkerchief. 'Your discovery of the cave was a disaster disaster for us, and maybe for mankind. Can you understand this? These plants are everywhere. Anyone with a saucepan can make the tea. Can you imagine what would happen if thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of people started taking the Ruac tea? For the sake of your little sliver of prehistory study, you wouldn't want to bring chaos to the world, would you? Millions of stoned, licentious, violent characters, creating havoc? It's a scene from a horror movie, no? So we kept it contained within Ruac. Imagine if the genie were out of the bottle for ever. No, it's up to us to protect the world from this.' His voice rose. 'Once we've found a safe way to exploit R-422, then for us, and maybe for mankind. Can you understand this? These plants are everywhere. Anyone with a saucepan can make the tea. Can you imagine what would happen if thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of people started taking the Ruac tea? For the sake of your little sliver of prehistory study, you wouldn't want to bring chaos to the world, would you? Millions of stoned, licentious, violent characters, creating havoc? It's a scene from a horror movie, no? So we kept it contained within Ruac. Imagine if the genie were out of the bottle for ever. No, it's up to us to protect the world from this.' His voice rose. 'Once we've found a safe way to exploit R-422, then France France will own it, will own it, France France will control it and will control it and France France will do what is right for mankind.' will do what is right for mankind.'

Luc went silent.

Gatinois stooped over the detonator and pulled the broken wire through Bonnet's dead fingers. 'They gave you the tea tonight?' he asked Luc.

'Yes.'

'You've shown no signs of it. Why?'

'I don't know.'

'Maybe we should study you too,' Gatinois chuckled. He told one of his men to shine a torch on the detonator while he carefully inspected it.

'What are you doing?' Luc called at him.

Gatinois stood and rubbed the dirt off one of his knees. 'It should work well. Bonnet had some men from the old days, good munitions men. If they said they could blow up the cliff, then they could blow up the cliff. We'll see.' He called one of his men forward by name. 'Captain, get everyone back a few hundred metres and set off the charges.'

'You can't do that!' Luc screamed. 'This is the most important cave in the history of France! It's a crime of immense proportions!'

'I can do it,' Gatinois said evenly. 'And I will do it. We'll blame it on Bonnet. By the time the sun rises we'll have a credible story for everything that happened tonight. Bonnet, the dealer in stolen n.a.z.i loot. Bonnet, the protector of Ruac's war crimes. Bonnet, willing to murder to keep the archaeologists and tourists out of his hair. Bonnet, the h.o.a.rder of huge quant.i.ties of old unstable wartime picratol. It will be fantastic, but partially true and the truth makes for the best stories.'

Luc challenged him. 'What about me? What about Sara? You think we're going to go along with this?'

'No, probably not, but it won't matter, I'm sorry to tell you. But you knew that already, didn't you? We've got to finish the job Bonnet started. That was always going to be the way this ended.'

Luc lunged forward, determined to try to smash the man with his fist. He wouldn't let them do this to Sara. Or to him. Not without a fight.

A rifle b.u.t.t struck his back. He felt a rib snap and he collapsed in agony, struggling to catch his breath. When he was able to speak again, he felt the edge of the ma.n.u.script through his shirt, the silver corners biting into his skin. 'And what about the Ruac Abbey ma.n.u.script?' he asked, wincing through the pain.

'I wanted to ask about that,' Gatinois said. 'We looked for that in Pineau's factory but never found it. What was it?'

'Nothing important,' Luc grimaced. 'Only the entire history of the tea and its recipe, written by a monk in 1307. It makes for fascinating reading.'

Gatinois's confident expression sloughed off his face. 'Marolles! Why don't we know about this?'

Marolles was tongue-tied. He wilted under Gatinois's withering gaze. 'I'm at a loss. We monitored, of course, all the communications between Pineau and Simard, between Mallory and Simard. Nothing. We saw nothing about this.'

Luc smiled through the lancinating pain. 'The ma.n.u.script was in code. Hugo had it broken. If you'd been looking at his incoming incoming emails you'd have seen that.' emails you'd have seen that.'

There were sirens in the distance.

They all heard them.

'I called the gendarmes,' Luc said. 'They're coming. Colonel Toucas from Perigueux is coming. It's over for you.'

'I'm sorry, you're wrong,' Gatinois said with some strain in his voice. 'Marolles will have a word with them. We're on the same team as the gendarmes, but somewhat higher on the feeding chain. They'll stand down.'

Pelay, who had been quiet for a time, began loudly moaning again, as if he'd lost, then regained consciousness.

'My G.o.d!' Gatinois said. 'I can't even think with this noise! Marolles, go and finish him. Maybe you can do that that properly.' properly.'

As Luc propped himself onto his knees, he saw Marolles march over to Pelay, and without a second of hesitation fire a single round into his head. When the percussive sound of the shot faded, the circle was quiet again except for the sirens in the distance.

'You're nothing but a murderer,' Luc hissed at Gatinois.

'Think what you like. I know I'm a patriot.'

Luc got himself upright and used the solidity of the hidden book to splint his chest by pressing it against his ribcage with his elbow. 'I'm not going to debate you, you son of a b.i.t.c.h. I'm only going to tell you that you're not going to kill Sara and you're not going to kill me.'

'And why not?' Gatinois asked defensively as if sensing Luc's confidence.

'Because if something happens to me, the press will get a letter. Maybe it won't have anything in it about you, but everything else is there. Ruac. The tea. The murders. And a copy of the Ruac ma.n.u.script with its translation.'

The sirens were getting closer, piercing the air.

'Marolles,' Gatinois ordered. 'Go and deal with the gendarmes. Intercept them. Keep them well away from the village. Go, and don't screw up.' Gatinois slowly walked to Luc, close enough for either man to strike each other. He stared at him for a full fifteen seconds without uttering a word. 'You know, I've read your profile, Professor. You're an honest man and I can always tell when an honest man is lying. I believe you're telling me the truth.'

'I believe I am,' Luc replied.

Gatinois shook his head and looked skyward. 'Then I suggest we find a solution. One that works for me, works for you but most importantly, works for France. Are you willing to do a deal, Professor?'

Luc stared back into the man's cold eyes.

Gatinois's phone rang. He pulled it from his trouser pocket. 'Yes,' he said. 'Yes, on my authority, proceed.' He pocketed the phone and addressed Luc again. 'Just wait a moment, Professor.'

First there was a flash.

It was so bright it was as if day had come to night, a premature sunrise, blazing and incandescent.

Then came the sound. And the rumbling sensation.

The shock-wave travelled through the ground, rattled the gravel and for a second made everyone sway.

Gatinois said simply, 'It's always been a contingency. Now was the time to end it. Our work continues, but Ruac is gone.'

THIRTY-EIGHT.

In the morning drizzle, the crater that had been Ruac village reminded Luc of pictures he'd seen of Lockerbie after the Pan Am crash.

There was no main street. There were no cottages, no cafe, only a vast black, rubble-strewn, car-filled chasm, weeping charcoal-coloured smoke. The firemen were spraying their hoses down onto flaming spots along the length of the trench but due to fears of instability, they weren't permitted to get close enough to be effective. The fires would have to burn out on their own.

A good proportion of the emergency services capability within the Dordogne was at the site. Access points into the village were choked with gendarmerie vehicles, police cars, ambulances, TV vans and fire brigade equipment. Ordinarily, Bonnet would have been there, tramping around in his heavy boots and tight-fitting uniform ordering his men about, but they had to make do without him.

Colonel Toucas was in charge of the operation, growling at the news helicopters which were thumping overhead and making it difficult to use his mobile phone.

At the dawn's first light he had told Luc he reckoned that some of the Second World War-era explosives, picratol, more than likely, stored in a cellar by Bonnet and his fellow scoundrels, must have accidentally gone off and started a chain reaction with other caches of explosives hidden in other cellars.

He added in a hushed voice, that he had it under good authority that Bonnet was a trafficker in old stolen goods, that certain clandestine government agencies had him under surveillance. There was talk of hundreds of millions of euros of gold and n.a.z.i spoils that might be found under the rubble.

Luc looked at him blankly, wondering if he fully believed the story that Gatinois had fed him.

Toucas couldn't imagine there'd be any survivors; the mangled and charred state of the corpses that were readily retrievable seemed to bear this out. But it would be days before they could reasonably change the mission from rescue to recovery.

Toucas framed the catastrophe with his own point of view. 'This will be my entire existence for the next year, maybe two,' he told Luc. 'You and I will be spending a lot of time together. Of course, by your own admission you killed two men last night, but I shouldn't worry. You'll come out clean. These men were trying to keep the outside world out of Ruac, out of their business. They resorted to murder. They intended to eliminate your cave. You were protecting yourself, protecting a national treasure.'

Abbot Menaud arrived at mid-morning to offer up the abbey grounds for whatever purpose the authorities saw fit but Toucas didn't have much time for him.

The cleric spotted Luc near the mobile command centre and spent a few minutes commiserating. With all the loss of life, it seemed trivial that the Barthomieu ma.n.u.script was likely in ashes somewhere deep within the crater, but the fellow did seem wistful anyway.

Luc drew him aside and partly unb.u.t.toned his shirt.

'You have it!' the abbot cried.

'And you'll have it back soon enough,' Luc a.s.sured him. 'As soon as I know it will be safe.'

Luc borrowed a mobile phone from an ambulance driver. He'd probably never be able to make a call again on his own phone without wondering if Unit 70 was listening in. He apologised to Isaak for losing his car. Then he asked him to tuck away the unopened envelopes somewhere safe. He'd figure out what to do with them later.

Luc borrowed another car from an archaeologist friend at the museum at Les Eyzies. He drove to Bergerac to collect Sara from the hospital where she'd spent the rest of the night.

She was waiting for him in the casualty ward when he arrived, wearing the spare clothes of a nurse who'd taken pity on her. She looked pale and weak, but when they hugged he felt the strength of her young arms around his neck.

They went to the cave.

Munitions experts from the army had worked all day clearing explosives from auger holes in the cliff-top and the area was declared safe.

Maurice Barbier had arrived in a Ministry of Culture helicopter to personally meet with Luc at the old abbey camp site and hand over the new keys and security codes. He mumbled something about Marc Abenheim's lack of availability, but anyway, he was sure that pending an investigation, Luc would be reinstated as Director of the Ruac Cave.

He listened in a fatherly way to the story Luc and Sara chose to tell, an official version hastily cobbled together with Gatinois in the dead of the night. When Barbier had heard enough to brief the Minister, he kissed Sara's hand and flew off into the steel-grey sky.