Black Diamond

late, maybe around ten. The mayor won’t fork out for a new police van, so I’ll have to take the old one into the garage for the
contrôle technique.
”
    “Thursday at ten it is. I’ll go out early, take a look around. We can meet at the farthest shack, the one on the track that leads off the road to Paunat.”
    “I know the place,” said Bruno. “I’ll bring a thermos of coffee.”
    “And I’ll bring the cognac,” said the baron.
    “One thing I wanted to ask you,” Bruno said quickly. “That place you mentioned—Bab el-Oued. What was it?”
    “It’s a suburb of Algiers, where the
pieds-noirs
used to live before we lost the war and they fled back to France. They were French settlers, the poorer ones, but they wanted Algeria to stay French. When de Gaulle decided to pull out, Bab el-Oued became the heart of the OAS. But that photo was taken before then, when they still loved us, before de Gaulle decided that there was no choice but to grant Algeria its independence.”
    “Like the rest of the army, I found some very welcoming girlfriends there,” said the baron. He was staring into the fire. He looked up. “You were already married, Hercule.”
    “This was all before I was born,” Bruno said, who read enough history to know the broad outlines of the AlgerianWar. “Still, every time I ride in the baron’s Citroën he tells me how the car saved de Gaulle’s life when the OAS tried to assassinate him.”
    “Organisation de l’Armée Secrète. Not only did they come close to killing de Gaulle, they came damn close to staging a military coup back in sixty-one, with half the army on their side. They took over Algiers, and people were panicking about parachute drops on Paris. De Gaulle ordered the air force to patrol the Mediterranean coast with orders to shoot down any transport planes heading north. The baron was one of the few in his unit who didn’t join the OAS.”
    “Would you still be friends if he had?”
    “Absolutely not,” said Hercule. “I’d probably have shot him.”

3
    Pamela turned her
deux chevaux
into the gate and down the newly built road that led to the restaurant. Bruno whistled softly and tried to calculate how much money had been spent on what had been a derelict old farm. It lay at the extreme edge of the commune of St. Denis, nearly five miles from the town, atop the ridge that overlooked the river and the road to Les Eyzies. Newly planted fruit trees formed an avenue on each side of the lane that led to a large old stone archway guarding the entrance to the farmyard. Beside the arch stood a large and floodlit sign, white scrolled letters on a green background, that read L’AUBERGE DES VERTS .
    “Ah, I got it wrong,” said Pamela. “It’s not the Green Inn but the Inn of the Greens. It’s still meant to be the first bioorganic restaurant in the department and the first to have a zero-energy footprint.” Impulsively she took her hand from the steering wheel and squeezed Bruno’s knee. “I’m so glad you agreed to come. I’ve been wanting to try this place.”
    The original farmhouse was still there, its honey-colored stone lit by carefully situated lamps, but most of it was obscured by a new conservatory that linked the house to theneighboring stables and barn. Through the big windows that had been built into the stables, Bruno saw a chef’s white toque and kitchen workers moving through glittering rows of stainless-steel ovens and shelving. The facing wall of the barn had been removed to leave it open to the elements, but lights picked out the huge beams of ancient chestnut. Paved in gravel, the barn gaped emptily as if waiting for warmer times and summer customers. Most of the conservatory windows were screened by thick curtains, but through two wide gaps Bruno could see customers around tables lit by candlelight and covered in white cloths.
    Pamela turned off the ignition, and in the sudden silence he heard a low shirring sound and looked up to see two curious windmills that bore none of the usual propeller blades. Instead, three curved and vertical blades whirled around a central axis, going remarkably fast in what was still a gentle breeze. The parking lot was dimly lit at ankle level by a row of solar-powered garden lights. A larger spotlight illuminated a large vegetable garden, picking out the bright orange of pumpkins and lines of fat cauliflowers. Behind the garden glinted some greenhouses with two more windmills beside them. Beyond the garden