For several days Marc had been thinking of leaving the convoy. He was convinced Vauthier knew more than he let on, and that he was about to act on his desire for revenge. The next evening he suggested to Maud that they should run away.
“Run away? But how?”
“In our truck.”
“They’ll follow us.”
“Not if we make a good plan.”
It was a fairly terrifying proposal. Running away would mean severing all ties with the association and subscribing to a logic of theft and war. There would be no going back. But wasn’t this the ineluctable consequence of having stowed explosives on the truck? Events were unfolding too quickly for Maud to think things through properly. There had been the massacre, and then this unexpected, intense night, and now, the prospect of flight. It all seemed to be obeying some powerful, implacable mechanism that she could not grasp.
“And what about Alex?”
“He doesn’t know. He still thinks I put his construction explosives in the load.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“No.”
Maud was fairly tempted by the idea of running away. But she didn’t like leaving Alex behind.
“But we could take him with us, couldn’t we?”
“It wouldn’t be reasonable. We don’t know how he’ll react. He’ll be really angry with me for not letting him in on the plan.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“We don’t see things the same way. He doesn’t share my commitment. Worse than that: he doesn’t understand it. His plan for the pumps and the coal mine is half-baked at best. It’s an issue they can deal with when peace returns. For the time being it’s victory they need. Everything has to be devoted to that end, including humanitarian work. He can’t grasp that.”
“You knew this before leaving.”
“With the initial plan, it wasn’t a problem. I was supposed to go calmly along to Kakanj with him. He would only have found out about the substitution at the same time he was reunited with his girlfriend, and that would have softened the blow. But things have been so shaky, and now this cop in the convoy . . . Now, we don’t have any choice.”
“But it’s terrible all the same. He’s your friend.”
Marc pressed his lips. He clearly could not take responsibility for what he was doing without a certain unease. But it was not in his nature to admit as much.
“Besides, on a practical level it’s too risky. In this truck we’re autonomous. But he belongs to the other team. If we bring him in on it, there is every chance he will fuck it up.”
Maud didn’t insist. After all, that was between them. And deep down she didn’t really mind being alone with Marc on this adventure.
They left the holiday camp all together at dawn, and the convoy drove through the countryside without incident. While they were driving, Marc and Maud went over their plan in detail, to give the others the slip the following night.
The layer of snow was too fine to stick for long to the still-warm earth, and grayish patches began to reappear here and there, making the scenery drab and dirty. They passed a Norwegian aid convoy going the opposite direction, its load delivered. In the evening, they camped in a pasture where the snow had almost all melted. They had gone back to their original setup for the tents. Marc slept in the tent with Alex, and Maud stayed in the truck. They both knew what they had to do.
Maud had set the alarm on her watch for four o’clock. She got up and moved about silently. She took out her flashlight and the little tool Marc had given her.
The main thing was to avoid making any noise. She had taken careful note of where the tire valve was located at the back of Lionel’s truck. Marc had insisted on the importance of letting the air out slowly so the valve would not start whistling. Unfortunately, when Maud pressed on the little metal cylinder, she felt an unexpected resistance. She had to press very hard to overcome it. When the valve finally gave way, it let out a whistle so shrill and intense that she dropped everything. Sound carried in the icy air, and there were no animals on that deserted field, nothing that could make such a noise. She listened to the silence for a long time. Nothing moved in the tents, pitched roughly twenty yards away from the trucks, and Maud was working on the left rear tire, which was farthest away. Her sudden fear subsided.
But when she tried again her hands were trembling. The valve started whistling the moment she put pressure on. The idea was to press very firmly, and not let herself be startled this time, then let the air out with a deeper hiss that was not as likely to wake the others. She thought about Marc, his determination, his tranquil manner, and she tried to act as if he were there next to her. She pressed hard on the valve. There was the same whistling, but more briefly, and then the air escaped with a regular hiss. Maud could feel it on her face, and was careful to maintain the same pressure on the valve so the noise would not start up again. Her fingers were numb with cold and the enormous tire was taking forever to deflate. She winced with pain because a cramp in her hands was threatening to make her drop everything. Finally she saw that the tire was going slack, and this gave her the energy to resist until all the air was out. It had to be completely flat, otherwise their pursuers might be tempted not to repair it right away. When at last she let go, the rim was touching the ground.
Marc joined her silently a bit later. The night before, they had put a sleeping tablet in Alex’s water bottle. Marc knew that Alex never went to sleep without his water next to him, and he would wake up two or three times during the night to drink. The dose must have been more than enough, because he didn’t budge when they started up their truck. Lionel, on the other hand, sprang out of the tent as soon as he heard the engine turn over. They had been careful, the night before, to park at a fair distance from the first truck, ready to pull straight out. In the rearview mirror Maud saw Lionel running over the muddy ground to try to catch them, but he was barefoot. He slipped, fell, got back to his feet. The truck drove slowly across the field. Lionel began running again. He managed to grab the rear fender but when the track reached the road, it gave a jolt as it drove over a small ridge. Lionel let go. Maud had one last vision of him, sprawled his entire length in the mud and snow. He was still in his undershirt, and the wan moonlight made him look like a corpse.
Never once, since leaving Lyon, had they driven this fast. Marc kept the gas pressed to the floor, and as the road was flat and straight, the old fifteen-tonner sped along. The tired suspension rattled over stones in the road, and they could hear impressive creaking sounds whenever the ruts were deep. Maud clung to the door, her window open, and leaned out from time to time to see if she could see anything behind them.
But Lionel’s truck was nowhere to be seen.
The road went slightly uphill, which was in their favor. They knew that their truck was slightly more powerful than the other one. Marc had his jaw clenched, and kept his eyes riveted to the road because of the dim headlights. They only began to relax once the first rays of dawn appeared, which meant that driving fast would be less of a hazard.
“How long will it take them to fix the tire, do you think?”
“We have the pump.”
“Can they put on the spare?”
“You know we didn’t repair the one with the bullet hole. And we have the other one. On top of it, last night I took the jack.”
They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
The clouds were not as thick as the day before. They could even see a patch of clear sky toward the east, turning pink in the dawn.
“Get out the papers, in case we come to a checkpoint.”
Before leaving Lyon, Marc and Alex had photocopied all the documents. They had let Lionel proudly show the convoy’s papers at every checkpoint, but they had exactly the same ones, hidden in the sun visor on the passenger side. They had made a slit in the padded rectangle, slipped the papers inside, then closed the slit up with a piece of black masking tape. Now Maud took them out of their hiding place and examined them.
“But . . . it says there are two trucks, and five people are listed.”
“I know.”
“But there’s just two of us now. And one truck. The paramilitaries won’t like that.”
“No, take a look: the freight lists are on two separate sheets. Find ours, and tear up the other one. For the drivers, all we have to do is cross out the three names. We’ll say that authorization was requested for five people, to be on the safe side, but that in the end two were enough. In any case, don’t worry. You’ve seen how they check, as a rule . . . ”
Maud knew that from time to time they might get fussy civil servant types. But Marc’s calm manner reassured her. He seemed to know what he was doing and he certainly had his reasons.
At one point, early in the morning, the sun’s rays shone across the tops of the trees, real rays from a real sun, however pale and cold. A little cluster of long-haired donkeys had gathered beneath the branches of an oak tree and were lifting their noses to the light. Streams sparkled their way through the pastures. Maud felt like kissing Marc. But he was wearing his tense, neutral face. It was what Maud thought of as his daytime face, because now she knew that gentle, other face, the one he only revealed at night. She told herself she would wait until evening to approach him. Until the thought gave rise to a doubt.
“Where are we going to spend the night?”
“Here, in the truck,” said Marc, patting the seat with the palm of his hand. “While we drive. For at least two days.”
“You mean we’ll take turns driving during the night, is that it?”
“Precisely.”
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll get lost with these headlights?”
“We’ll be careful.”
Until now there had been the excitement of the encounter, and the preparation of their flight, which had seemed like little more than a game. Now Maud was abruptly aware of the situation. She was riding in a truck full of dynamite, in the middle of a country that was at war, pursued by people who would not hesitate to identify them as thieves. She had wanted to commit, but she was beginning to realize how the commitment of humanitarian workers was not a commitment. They did have to take risks, and sometimes they found themselves in awkward situations. But the fact remained that they were not involved in the actual fighting. With this business of the construction explosives, she had agreed to a first transgression, but one that was of no great consequence. Even with a load like that, they were still aid workers, and they could have relied on the support of public opinion, if the Serbs arrested them.
With a real explosives it was another matter altogether. They were outlaws. France did not want to be dragged into the war and would disown them. If they were arrested, they would be considered war criminals. They had crossed an invisible line, and now Maud understood its huge symbolic importance. They had become real combatants. They had friends, and enemies. And there was nothing protecting their lives anymore.
Lionel sat in the cold mud next to the deflated tire, completely despondent. Vauthier came over to him at an unhurried pace. He had taken the time to get dressed and put on his shoes before he left his tent. He leaned down to look at the tire.
“It’s just an ordinary flat.”
“How do you know?” muttered Lionel.
“Because I heard the kid open the valve during the night.”
“You heard! And you just stood there?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“I went back to sleep.”
Lionel leapt to his feet and grabbed Vauthier by the collar with both hands.
“You went back to sleep! You must be joking. So you were in on it?”
Lionel was tugging on Vauthier with his puny arms but he couldn’t make him budge. Vauthier gently pushed his hands aside.
“I’m going to blow up the tire,” said Lionel.
“Don’t bother. I’m sure they took the pump.”
Lionel looked at him, aghast. Vauthier took him by the shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s go discuss this calmly.”
“Discuss this calmly, while they run off with the truck? Every hour that goes by, they’re making headway. And we’re sitting here like assholes.”
“Don’t worry. They won’t get far.”
Vauthier smiled with his pursed lips. He didn’t really look like he was joking, and his hatred for Marc still shone in his shifty little eyes. Lionel let him go and they walked over to the tents. Alex emerged from his, his hair tousled, his eyes puffy.
“I don’t know what happened to me. I slept like a—”
“Did you drink any water last night?” asked Vauthier absently.
“Like I do every night.”
“I think you’d better empty out your water bottle. Your little friend must have put a good dose in there.”
“A dose of what?”
“He put Alex to sleep?” asked Lionel. “So it was premeditated?”
“What are you two talking about? And where’s the other truck?”
“Of course it was premeditated,” said Vauthier. “Fortunately we, too, have premeditated a few things.”
He was the only one who had his wits about him. The other two were not even dressed, and their eyes were frantic, their gestures clumsy.
“Okay, go and get dressed. I’m going to make us some proper breakfast. And we can go over the whole business in detail.”
The sun had risen to the top of the trees by the time the three of them gathered around the camp stove, sitting on crates. They cupped their palms around their mugs to keep warm. Lionel had slipped a joint behind his ear and was waiting to finish his coffee to light it.
“So, what’s this business about premeditation?”
“Let’s backtrack a little,” said Vauthier. “At headquarters, where we stopped, remember I ran into some friends?”
“Yes.”
“There were a few people in the know.”
“Secret police?”
“Let’s just say, French agents in UN uniforms.”
“What did they tell you?”
“I asked them to look into those two,” said Vauthier, looking at Alex.
“Don’t say those two. You can see damn well that—”
“That he screwed you the way he screwed us? I can see that. But back then, I didn’t know.”
“So, tell us what they told you,” said Lionel.
“I can’t give you all the details. There’s an investigation under way in France and it’s confidential. But I can sum it up as follows.”
He sat up straight and gave himself an important air, as if about to adopt a judge or prosecutor’s solemn tones.
“Two months ago, explosive weapons were stolen from an arsenal in Orange. They haven’t found the culprit yet, but they know for sure that whoever it was had accomplices on the inside and was a former soldier.”
“But construction explosives aren’t the same as explosive weapons,” shouted Alex. “I bought them myself from a civil engineering firm.”
“Let him finish! Go on, Vauthier.”
“Thanks. I’ll get to the crux of it, since you’re so eager. Everything would seem to indicate that it is our mutual friend who stole those explosives and hid them in the second truck.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the description matches, and my friends had a tip from an informer.”
Alex looked stunned. The news had thrown him for a loop. At the same time, this explained some of the things he had constantly wondered about Marc. He had never really understood why he had agreed so enthusiastically to go with him to Kakanj: he didn’t have a girlfriend there. If Alex suspected him of anything, it was that he didn’t really care whether the pumps at the mine would keep on working or not. Their friendship was real, but not deep enough to explain why Marc was taking so many risks to commit himself to this mission. But if he had his own agenda, that explained a lot. This was why, despite his surprise, Alex was immediately convinced that Vauthier’s information had to be the truth.
“And my construction explosives?” he asked. “What did he do with them?”
“I’m sorry to inform you but he used you, my dear Alex. He needed a team to drive his truck and he knew about your hare-brained scheme regarding the mine in Kakanj.”
“It’s not a hare-brained scheme!”
“No, of course it isn’t,” said Vauthier suavely. “Whatever the case may be, he put real explosives in the load instead of yours.”
“Real explosives? He put real explosives?”
“Yes, my man. He does things properly, your Marc. He doesn’t mess around with stories about water pumps.”
“I never thought he’d pull such a rotten trick.”
“But he did. Unfortunately for him, things haven’t gone the way he wanted. You talked too much and Lionel changed the teams around. And he ended up with Maud.”
“I don’t believe it,” moaned Alex, his head in his hands. “I don’t believe it.”
“But,” continued Vauthier, raising a finger, “we’re clever, too. We’ve got more than one trick up our sleeve. We stuck him with Maud; too bad for him! He managed to make her fall in love with him. That can’t have been too difficult, with his good looks and smoldering gaze.”
“What did you say?” interrupted Lionel. “Maud is in love with him? Okay, stop there. Stop right there. She’s never been in love with anyone. That’s just her problem.”
His tone made it obvious that this was one wound that hadn’t healed.
“Stop your whining, please. You have to face facts: she never gave a damn about you. And today even less so.”
“Shut up!” shouted Lionel, leaping to his feet.
He had that twisted look on his face; Alex had seen it when Lionel suspected him of sleeping with Maud.
“Why do you want me to shut up? You have to learn to live with the truth in life, otherwise you’ll never get ahead. And the truth is that your so-called girlfriend has fallen head over heels in love with Master Marc.”
“Shut up.”
Lionel echoed his own words like a robot. But he sat back down and stared into space, his anger giving way to despondency.
“At the holiday camp,” continued Vauthier without pity, “they spent the night together, on the second floor. I’ll spare you the details regarding what they left behind. But the evidence would seem to indicate that the young woman was indeed completely inexperienced. But now she knows life.”
His head in his hands, Lionel remained silent. Then he sat up, calm and resigned. Vauthier’s authority had a soothing effect on him. He couldn’t stand to hear what the man was saying, but oddly, the revelation put an end to a lie that he himself no longer believed. He was almost relieved. All aggression gone, he turned to Vauthier.
“Why did you wait until now to tell us about Marc? Why didn’t you tell us when we were at headquarters? We could have locked him up and settled the matter.”
“Yeah, sure, I could have had him arrested at headquarters. He would have been put in the clink and then on trial. But he’s very clever. He could have denied it, or even implicated us as well and brought us down with him.”
“That’s true,” said Lionel.
“And anyway,” said Vauthier, “I didn’t want him to go to jail.”
“And why not?”
“Because I’d rather deal with him myself.”
There was a long silence. The low-angled, straw-colored sunlight made the patches of snow stand out against the muddy black earth. Lionel, leaning over the bluish flame of the camping stove, glanced at Alex and saw that he was dozing again, lying on one elbow, still drowsy from the drug Marc had given him.
“Exactly,” said Lionel, shrugging his shoulders, “We’ll deal with him ourselves. And what do you propose, can you tell me that?”
“We’ll start by fixing the truck, no rush. I’m sure we’ll find a farm somewhere nearby where they have a pump or a compressor.”
Then he added, more quietly, “For the rest, don’t worry: they’ll get what they deserve. And it would be better if we’re not around when it happens.”
“What have you drummed up for them?” asked Lionel.
Vauthier pulled his brand-new fur-lined jacket closer around him. Pointing to Alex with his chin, he gave Lionel a knowing wink, as if to advise caution.
“This is a dangerous region,” he continued in a low voice. “You saw, yesterday. The paramilitaries are out of control, there are gangs of killers roaming around. They can do plenty of damage.”
“You mean . . . they’re going to run into guys like that?” said Lionel with a start. “How do you know?”
“Just an intuition.”
Vauthier took a beanie out of his pocket to cover his bald head. Lionel was livid.
“Don’t tell me you’ve taken a contract out on them . . . ”
Vauthier didn’t answer. He smiled, his expression smug, cruel. He clearly had no intention of saying anything more, and Lionel didn’t insist. The prospect of being accessory to a murder frightened him. At the same time, if that was the way things were meant to happen, he couldn’t help but feel a real pleasure. Basically, he liked the idea of revenge, provided he didn’t have to be responsible. Vauthier did not have such scruples.
At that moment, looking at the big ginger man with his darting little eyes, Lionel almost liked him.