Eleven

Bouanga looked puzzled. ‘I thought the extra man you mentioned would be a police officer, Inspector. This man is a civilian, is he not?’

‘Officer Lamotte is a policeman, Mr Bouanga,’ Rocco confirmed, thinking that Lamotte just didn’t have a hope in hell of looking like one. ‘He will be on duty patrolling the grounds.’

The minister didn’t look happy. ‘So, far from not giving me adequate protection, which I had been assured would be provided by your own interior ministry, instead I am being watched over by one policeman and… someone else.’ He was staring at Claude’s clothes with obvious scepticism.

‘He looks this way so he can blend in.’ Rocco batted the argument right back in a reasonable voice. It was easier than trying to explain that Claude’s normal duties, which included policing the marshes, lakes and riversides of the area, made wearing a serge uniform every day impractical. In fact Claude was the most reluctant wearer of the blue shirt and trousers that Rocco had ever met. ‘He’s also a professional hunter and an expert shot.’

That seemed to be an acceptable explanation to Bouanga, who stood up and moved towards the door. ‘Very well. I suppose that will have to do. I will leave you to carry out your work, gentlemen. You will find Excelsiore, Delicat’s wife, in the kitchen, but don’t expect to get a lot from her – she doesn’t talk much with anyone, save her husband.’

‘Will any of your family members be joining you here?’

‘No. My wife has been taken across the border to a safe address in Cameroon. While I’m here her brother will look after her. He’s the local chief of police there.’ He gave a dry smile. ‘If I have to move again, it will be easier if it is just the three of us.’

‘I understand. And will you be leaving the property at any time?’

‘I’m not sure. Why do you ask?’

‘Because if anyone does intend making an attempt on your life, they might wait for you to go out. The roads around here are narrow, and setting up a roadblock would be easy. If I’m to protect you properly, I’ll need your assurance that you won’t leave without letting us know first.’

Bouanga inclined his head in agreement, but said nothing. With a flick of his head for Delicat to follow, he disappeared along the hallway.

Claude watched them go before saying, ‘Not the easiest to get on with, is he?’

‘Not really.’ Rocco scowled at Claude. ‘Did you really say reporting for duty? You’ve never reported for duty in your life.’

Claude grinned. ‘Well, you said he was a VIP so I thought I’d better play the part of the willing and obedient servant.’ He indicated his clothes. ‘Sorry – I thought if I was going to be spending time here and blending in, as you cleverly pointed out, I might as well be comfortable. Who’s the little fella, by the way?’

‘His name’s Delicat. He’s Bouanga’s bodyguard and I suggest you don’t refer to his size in front of him. I get the feeling he might take offence.’

Claude kept a straight face. ‘Eh bien. I hope he’s up to the job. This place is like an open field. I thought the Ministry wanted to keep this man safe.’

‘They do. All we can do is make sure the house is tight and keep our eyes open and ready to repel uninvited strangers.’

They set about checking the house from top to bottom. He could only guess at the original use of several rooms. Most were devoid of furnishings and had clearly been empty for many years, with the heavy smell of damp lingering in the air and layers of dust on every surface. Rocco led the way, inspecting the shutters and windows, especially to the rear of the house overlooking the fields where he felt any attack might originate. Fortunately, the structure was in good condition, and it took a matter of minutes to confirm that, save for the conservatory, intruders were unlikely to gain access very easily without the use of a battering ram.

They finally came to the kitchen, where a lady sporting a beautiful, multi-coloured head-cloth was tending a cooker and surrounded by steam. Excelsiore was considerably taller than her husband. She gave a shy half-smile, but offered no greeting. Rocco smiled back and checked the door to the gardens was secure before returning to the front hallway, where he’d noticed a telephone. He picked it up and heard a dial tone. The device looked new and he guessed it had been freshly installed, no doubt on the instructions of the Ministry. They had evidently moved fast to make sure Bouanga had the means to contact them in an emergency. As he replaced the handset, the former minister appeared, flanked by Delicat.

‘I take it we’re safe, Inspector?’ the minister queried. He glanced at Claude as he spoke, and added, ‘At least, as safe as we can be given the absence of more security personnel.’

Rocco ignored the dig, as there was nothing he could do about it. ‘Safe enough, if you keep the windows locked and any shutters you don’t use shut tight. Also keep the front gates closed. And I’d avoid sitting for too long in the conservatory, if I were you. You’ll make an easy target if your enemies try for a long shot.’ He indicated the phone. ‘Does anybody from back home know you’re here?’

‘No. I have not announced my movements, if that’s what you are asking. Why?’

‘Just a precaution. If you receive any calls and the caller hangs up without speaking, you should let me or Officer Lamotte know immediately. It could be a way of finding out if you’re in.’

‘Of course. In the meantime, I trust you will pass on my concerns about security to your superiors?’

Rocco nodded. ‘I will.’ He stepped outside followed by Claude, and the two men went for a walk around the outbuildings. It was a relief to be out of the musty atmosphere and Rocco breathed deeply in the fresh air.

Claude evidently felt the same way. ‘If I never have to go in there again it’ll be a relief,’ he murmured. ‘Depressing place, isn’t it? If it was me I’d want to throw open all the windows and play some loud music just to stir up the dust.’

‘You might think differently,’ Rocco said, nodding towards the open fields, ‘if you knew somebody was out there waiting to take a shot at you.’

‘True enough. Not much of a life, though, is it, stuck out here and waiting for someone with a gun to come bursting through the door? And that little feller – Delicat? He might be deadly for all I know, but he doesn’t look it.’

‘That’s possibly his main strength,’ Rocco replied. He’d come across protectors before, and the really good ones were inconspicuous to the point of being invisible. ‘People don’t notice him until it’s too late. In any case, in Bouanga’s position, I doubt he’s got a lot of choice. If he’s got a lot of enemies, there probably aren’t too many bodyguards queueing up to protect him.’

After checking the outbuildings, which had been cleared long ago save for old farming junk like feed troughs and rotting hessian sacks, they walked out across the field behind the house and made a wide loop, studying bushes, trees and dead ground for obvious hiding places. It would be simple for an attacker to lay out here unseen, but getting up and crossing the last two or three hundred metres of open ground would present them with a problem.

Rocco noted the positions of three sturdy trees and a couple of convenient hollows in the ground which would be ideal range markers if they were attacked. They crested a gentle rise of pastureland, the long grass swishing as they walked, and found themselves looking down a long, sloping field with a narrow lane running across the bottom. It was only when Rocco saw a flash of Rizzotti’s familiar marker tape and a figure moving along the lane that he realised they were looking down on the ditch where the dead man in the suit had been found.

‘I didn’t realise we were this close to that road,’ he murmured.

‘That’s your mate Desmoulins, isn’t it?’ said Claude, a hand shading his eyes. ‘Looks like he’s been mixing with you too much; he can’t keep away from the scene of the crime.’

Rocco grunted, non-committal. The truth was, he wanted nothing more than to be down there with him, not stuck up here looking after a man on the run from enemies half a world away. Maybe Bouanga did need protecting, but whether the threats he feared were real remained to be seen. In the meantime, sitting here wouldn’t solve a crime that had happened down there.

He made a decision. ‘Claude, stay and watch the place, will you? I’m just going down for a quick look.’

‘Of course you are.’ Claude smiled. ‘I’d have been worried if you hadn’t, to be honest. Policing’s like being a ball on a roulette table, isn’t it? Always moving towards the centre.’

Or a hamster, thought Rocco, as he hopped over the fence. On a wheel.