The Crowded Grave

asked. It means sealing off the châteaux in three belts, one five kilometers out, one at a single kilometer and a final cordon on the perimeter.”
    “Isabelle sent me your plan, and we’re implementing it. But we need to find them and take them, not just block them. And we also want to interrogate them, if only to find out who pulled the trigger that killed Nérin.”
    “They have to be hiding out somewhere. I suppose we could get each of the
mairies
to telephone all the registered
gîte
owners and ask them to check on their own properties. We’ll miss those owned by foreigners, and it could be dangerous for them, but I don’t see how else we can get much of a search going.”
    “We can’t have some vacation-home owner getting gunned down when he’s gone calling at our behest,” the brigadier said. “The politicians wouldn’t stand for it. They may even have taken over a farm and be holding the farmer at gunpoint.”
    “Or in a cave,” said Bruno. “We’ve got enough of those.”
    “I need a plan B, an alternative place for the summit. I presume you’ve thought about it. You mentioned it when we met here earlier.”
    “I have a place in mind, just the other side of St. Denis. It’s a small château, now used as a hotel, and it’s also the headquarters of a vineyard. The security is much better—only one road and a couple of paths. The place backs onto a river so sealing it off would be a lot easier.”
    “Are there decent rooms for the summit itself?”
    Bruno described the Domaine that he knew well, with itsimposing salon for the formal meeting and a ballroom for the press conference. There were side rooms and various bedrooms upstairs, two of them on the grand side. With hardly anybody working in the vineyard at that time of year and the vines just starting to show green, there’d be little cover for any approach. The owner, Bruno added, was an old friend who made good wine.
    “Right, you can take me there now, but don’t speak of this to anyone else, not even Isabelle or Carlos. I’ll let them know what I have to when I see them for dinner tonight. You aren’t invited, I’m afraid, for operational reasons. I need to talk to those two, and you have enough on your plate drawing up a new perimeter and patrol plan for this alternative place. I want it ready for the morning meeting.”
    “Yes, sir,” said Bruno, sighing inwardly. He’d hoped to invite Isabelle to dinner, to try and make up for their depressing talk of the afternoon.
    The brigadier reached into his briefcase and pulled out a printed form and security pass, making Bruno sign each of them. He gave Bruno an enamel lapel badge in blue and yellow, saying it gave access to all areas and all the security forces would be briefed to recognize it. The pass identified Bruno as a member of the minister’s personal staff. It was only valid until the day after the summit.
    “It gives you authority to tell generals what to do,” the brigadier said. “Don’t misuse it,” he added, seeing Bruno’s instinctive grin.
    A worried-looking Isabelle was standing by the steps as they walked out and asked the brigadier if everything was in order, although Bruno thought from her glance of concern that her question was about him. He winked at her as he pinned the blue-and-yellow security badge to his lapel. Isabelle was wearing one just like it.
    “I have a brief courtesy meeting, pure protocol,” said the brigadier as he strode past her, “and I’ll see you later.”
    “Carlos has kindly invited me to dinner at the Vieux Logis,” she said, carefully avoiding looking at Bruno, who managed to keep his face immobile.
    “Cancel it,” said the brigadier. “Or call them and make the reservation for three. I’ll meet you and Carlos at the hotel bar here at eight sharp. Come, Bruno, no time to waste.”
    The Domaine was the center of St. Denis’s new wine industry, but Julien still ran the hotel. The main salon, decorated by Julien’s late wife, Mirabelle, with some well-chosen antiques, was given the brigadier’s approving nod as they walked through on the way to the office. He’d already walked briskly around the outside of the small château, mainly seventeenth century with some unfortunate nineteenth-century embellishments. Bruno explained their mission to Julien and inquired if there were any guests who might need to be relocated.
    “There are no bookings until the weekend,” said Julien.
    The brigadier told Julien what he