Bruno 02 - The Dark Vineyard

and Bruno closed his phone and opened it again. He shrugged an apology to the baron, waved away Ivan bringing the cheese course and called the mayor to explain the situation. The baron signaled Ivan to come back and helped himself. Bruno suggested the mayor call the prefect and ask for some extra gendarmes to be sent from Périgueux. And perhaps the mayor might also call Alphonse to see if he knew about the demonstration.
    “Any other suggestions, Bruno?” the mayor asked.
    “Well, you know people at a demonstration want some kind of result, and you might think about giving them one by announcing that you are bringing charges against the research station over the nonpayment of taxes. It would make the demonstrators think they’d achieved something, and it would get Alphonse on our side. I think he might be the key to this.”
    “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll get the paperwork moving and see you at the research station a bit before five.”
    Next Bruno called the gendarmerie, where Jules reported the welcome news that Captain Duroc had the day off and had gone to the movies in Sarlat. That made things much easier. Bruno explained the situation to Jules, and asked for a patrol on the main road from Périgueux and Bordeaux to check all buses and order those going to the demonstration to park in the square by the gendarmerie. That would ease the traffic problem. The remaining gendarmes should gather at the research station. As he folded his phone, it trilled again. It was the brigadier.
    “Something’s up,” he said.
    “You mean the demonstration at the research station?” Bruno asked.
    “How did you know about that? My computer guys just picked it up from their Web site.”
    “Dominique Suchet, one of your suspects. She called to let me know. As I told you, she’s a responsible young woman.”
    “How do you want to handle it?”
    “The mayor’s asking the prefect for more gendarmes. And we’ll show restraint. People have a right to demonstrate peacefully.”
    “If it turns out to be peaceful; but I doubt it. From the cell phone traffic, some of the militants who trashed the McDonald’s in Millau are going to be turning up. Leave them to me. That’s an order. One more thing, we traced the phone card. It was one of a batch of five-euro cards sold in the
tabac
here in Saint-Denis and hasn’t been used for any other calls so far.” He ended the call, leaving Bruno staring worriedly at his phone.
    “Sounds like trouble. Anything I can do?” asked the baron, nonetheless relishing his cheese. Bruno found a steaming coffee in front of him and he sipped it gratefully. “Maybe call some of the members in from the rugby teams. Get them chanting ‘Save our research station.’ Just in case there’s trouble from any outsiders. And since you’re the big shareholder in that building yard, maybe some of your heavy trucks could cruise up and down slowly past the station, make sure the demonstrators stay off the road.”
    The baron nodded, an amused glint in his eye. “It’s our town; we’ll make them play by our rules,” he said.
    Bruno watched as the demonstrators straggled in on foot after the long walk from the square where their buses had been parked. He was not altogether confident, but he was calm. His objectives were clear. He had rallied his forces and organized a reserve. He had prepared the ground and made his dispositions,and he had a plan. All the tactical requirements the army had taught him had been met.
    He stood before the closed iron gates of the research station, five gendarmes alongside him and the mayor at his elbow. Another dozen gendarmes from Périgueux were inside the gates with Petitbon and some of his employees, and four more were directing traffic. Across the road, the baron and a small knot of rugby players were grinning and waving some hastily inked signs that said SAVE OUR RESEARCH STATION and HANDS OFF SCIENCE . Heavy trucks loaded with sand and building supplies ground slowly by, forcing the marching demonstrators into a single file along the grass. Bruno looked down. The bullhorn stood ready behind the folding steps he had placed in front of the gates, and the mayor had a file of papers under his arm. The forces of order of Saint-Denis were as prepared as Bruno could make them.
    “You knew we were coming,” said Alphonse as he approached at the head of the marchers, the matronly Céline from his commune at his side. They both wore T-shirts that said STOP GMO . Alphonse