Thirty-one
Rocco was just finishing another section of Mme Denis’s pie when his phone rang. It was the operator at the station. ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Commissaire Massin wishes to speak with you.’
Rocco was surprised. For Massin to be calling this late it was unlikely to be good news. ‘Put him through, please.’
‘Sorry, sir. The commissaire wants to see you in person. In the office.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, sir. Sorry. He says it’s important.’
‘I’m on my way. Thirty minutes.’
Rocco stood up, put on his coat and headed for the car. All the driving was beginning to catch up with him but there was no arguing with a direct order.
Thirty minutes later he joined Massin in his office. Other than a couple of night duty officers downstairs, there was nobody around and the building felt like an empty shell, devoid of its usual hustle and bustle.
‘Thank you, Inspector,’ Massin said, and held up a coffee pot, steam issuing from the lid. He had taken off his uniform jacket and looked unusually casual, with his top button undone and his shirt cuffs turned back. ‘Just made. I know it’s late for coffee, but I think we might both need it. And you’ll have to excuse the lack of formal dress, but it’s been a long day. I’m sure you feel the same.’
‘Thank you,’ said Rocco, noting the sombre tone in Massin’s voice. ‘I won’t say no. Is there a problem?’
Massin finished pouring, then sat down and leaned back, flexing his shoulders. ‘You could say that. We’re on the edge of your investigation being closed down, and I wanted to warn you in person. It seemed not to be the kind of discussion to have by telephone.’ He sipped his coffee, then launched into a replay of his talk with Ceyton and the officer’s subsequent warning.
Rocco listened in silence. It came as no surprise, given Santer’s grim prediction, but it was still disturbing to hear that there were now strict conditions attached to his handling of the case. Even more so was the implied threat to his future advancement if he didn’t follow orders.
‘I may have precipitated this, I’m afraid,’ Massin confessed, ‘by getting Ceyton involved. It could have been a step too far in letting them know how you were proceeding. I shouldn’t have put myself in the position.’
‘Unless it was him who approached you.’
Massin looked at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You said you decided to go to this senior police officers’ event. Was that normal?’
‘No. I’ve never been before. But seeing the invitation gave me the idea to see what I could discover.’
‘Have you had an invitation before?’
‘Not that I can remember. They usually place a piece in the officers’ bulletin.’
‘But not this time.’
‘No.’ Massin chewed his lip. ‘Not this time.’ He frowned. ‘You think it was a deliberate ploy to get me there?’
‘I’m suggesting it seems unusual, since they’ve never bothered to ask you before.’
Massin stood up and took a tour of his office. ‘Now you mention it, I handed the card in but the man on the desk didn’t seem to know what to do with it. Others were walking straight in. But why?’
Rocco assumed he was wondering why the subterfuge. ‘If you want to drop a word in a contact’s ear without making it look deliberate,’ he said, ‘then a chance encounter in a crowd is the safest bet. In this case, you were there, Ceyton was there; what could be more natural than a chat … followed by a little timely advice.’
‘To what end?’
‘To warn me off.’ Rocco stood up to join him. ‘They didn’t want this investigation from the start. This was their opportunity to send in a torpedo to get it stopped.’ He waited for Massin to say something, but the senior officer seemed conflicted at the idea of such an open piece of skulduggery from the high command.
‘So far,’ he continued, ‘two other people have said pretty much the same thing to me. Both suggested this investigation was riddled with danger and would go nowhere, that finding out the truth behind the letters would stir up too many problems they didn’t want broadcast.’
‘Such as?’
‘Bourdelet by himself was a shock but explainable: a case of stress, a moment of weakness, but not unheard of. Throw in the other two and suddenly you have intrigue on your hands involving senior members of state bodies – the finance ministry, the police and the judiciary. That’s too much.’
Massin nodded and looked disappointed. ‘Somehow I expected more of Ceyton. He could have been more direct and I’d have understood. But to pretend to help while shooting a line …’
‘He didn’t exactly put himself out, though,’ Rocco pointed out.
Massin smiled thinly. ‘You’re right. There’s no way he could have got to many who knew all three men in such a short space of time.’
Rocco thought about Santer’s prediction at the restaurant. ‘So this is their way of shutting it down without losing face: get me to have a stab at it, then call it off.’
‘It would seem that’s the intention. My question is, what do you have so far?’
‘Not a lot. We have some leads. Why do you ask?’
‘That depends on you. Talk me through what you’ve got so far and we’ll see where we go from there.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘For some reason I don’t feel the desire to roll over like a performing dog. Do you?’
‘No. How much time do we have?’
‘Ceyton said three days at most. I’d say more like two.’
Rocco told him about the yellow van and the man named Serban. ‘It doesn’t amount to much but it could be a link in the chain.’
‘Can you mount surveillance on him?’
Rocco shook his head. ‘Probably not, if he’s connected with any of the Paris criminal network. Even if he didn’t recognise me someone else might.’
‘How about Desmoulins?’
‘Possible. But I have a better idea.’
‘Do you want to tell me?’
‘He’s an old friend of mine. He’s better than me at this kind of stuff.’
A light dawned in Massin’s eyes. ‘You mean Caspar? Is that wise?’
‘He’s a good man and, yes, I trust him. I’ll have to pay him, though.’
Massin nodded. ‘Do it. But tell him it has to be forty-eight hours, no more.’