The Devil's Cave: A Bruno Courrèges Investigation (Bruno Chief of Police 5)

Another rose was beamed onto the concave roof of the cave and its glowing reds, blues and golds were reflected in the stillness of the lake. On the far shore, where orchestras would give concerts, stood the choir of St Denis in their white surplices. Picked out by a spotlight, a long table covered with a white cloth and serving as an altar bore a silver cross, two tall white candles and the accoutrements of the Mass. Behind it stood one of the treasures of St Denis, the great carved crucifix that usually lived behind the altar of the town church.
    Solemn organ music played as the last arrivals took their seats. Four TV cameras were focused on the choir. Half the town was there and more people stood in the car park outside listening to the loudspeakers that would carry the words and music out to them. Reporters sat on a row of chairs to one side and photographers crouched and scurried to find the best angles.
    The organ music fell silent and, from his vantage point onthe balcony alongside the Mayor, J-J and the Baron, Bruno could almost feel the audience hold its breath when the thunderous notes of Bach’s
Toccata and Fugue in D minor
rang out. The beam of the spotlight on the choir swivelled down to the lake itself and crept with slow and steady purpose towards the audience, then back further to the stairs. At their head stood Father Sentout in full priestly regalia. Behind him and carrying a tall silver crucifix was the sacristan in his white robe. Behind them and also in white surplices were Marcel’s son Jean-Paul and Philippe Delaron’s nephew Luc.
    Father Sentout led them down the stairs and across the rocky floor to the strand where a single boat stood waiting. It was not one of the usual jaunty plastic vessels with pedals but the Baron’s sturdy wooden fishing boat that could seat six or even eight with ease. Father Sentout climbed in and sat in the bow, the sacristan stood solemn and silent at the stern. The two boys clambered aboard and in unison took the two short oars and put them into the water. Luc loosened the knot that held the boat to the dock and pushed off. The boys began to row the boat slowly across as the
Toccata
died and gave way to the first slow notes of the Kyrie of Mozart’s
Mass in C minor
.
    As the boat reached the middle of the lake the choir had begun to sing, and by some miracle of timing just as the boat reached the far side and the priest rose to step ashore, Florence began her solo and the high, sweet notes of
Kyrie Eleison
, Lord have mercy, filled the cave.
    ‘They’ve been practising this half the night and since seven this morning,’ whispered the Mayor. Bruno nodded as heglanced at the order of service to identify the music that had been chosen.
    ‘I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,’ murmured J-J to Bruno. ‘But we need to talk later.’
    When the Kyrie ended, Father Sentout raised his head, lifted his hands to bless the crowd and began to speak. Bruno could not see the tiny microphone he must be wearing beneath his robes but the words rang out powerfully through the vast space.
    ‘In a famous discourse in the year of Our Lord 1972, the Holy Father Pope Paul VI said that he sensed that “from somewhere or other, the smoke of Satan has entered the temple of God”. And here in this majestic cave, surely itself a great work of Our Lord, the smoke of Satan has crept in to pollute and defile the very chamber dedicated to Our Lady.’
    He turned and knelt on the small prayer stool placed before the altar as the choir began the triumphant opening notes of the Gloria. When it ended he rose, turned and spoke again. This time his first words were in Latin.
    ‘
Exorcizo te, immundissime spiritus, in nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi
’ – I exorcize you, unclean spirit, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
    He paused, the spotlight on him faded and the music swelled, the first almost jaunty notes leading into the glorious affirmation of faith, the Credo, and the choir roared out the words:
    Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorem cœli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium.
I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.
    The music and the singing rang around the great chamber with such force that Bruno saw tremors appear on the usually still waters of the lake, sending the reflections of the stained-glass windows shimmering.
    ‘The spirit of Almighty God is with us,’ roared out