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

the priest.
    ‘Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus,’ sang the choir in the three great and soaring chords. ‘Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts.’
    Bruno felt transported. He had never attended any religious ceremony with a fraction of this power and meaning. The sceptic in him was whispering at the back of his mind that the setting of the cave, the skill of the lighting and the magnificent acoustics that enhanced the power of the choir were all working on some childhood memory of church and faith. And the presence of hundreds of his fellow townsfolk, equally rapt and awed by the power of light and music and the newly commanding presence of their own familiar priest, was carrying him on a great communal wave of an experience that was as dramatic as it was unique.
    Father Sentout began the sacrament of the Eucharist, raising the chalice of wine and the silver plate of the host to the great crucifix in consecration. And then one by one, still singing
Hosanna in Excelsis
, the members of the choir came down to kneel before the altar and take communion and then return to their places to begin the
Agnus Dei
.
    ‘
Ite, missa est
,’ said Father Sentout, and it was over.
    At least, Bruno thought it was over. But hardly had the thought formed when a great whirring sound filled the air, followed by a mighty crash, a cloud of dust and a brilliant shaft of daylight coming from the sky.
    Then came a chorus of screams followed by the sound of chairs falling as people rose and turned to run. Father Sentout still had his microphone and with great presence of mind he roared: ‘A sign, a sign that the Lord our God is with us.’
    ‘Let there be light,’ he shouted, pointing at the ray from the sky that pierced the vast space of the cavern. ‘And the Lord said let there be light.’
    He turned to the choir behind him and like a conductor raised his arms to get them to join him. Amplified by the microphones they chanted in chorus and all that could be heard in the great cavern as the dust began to settle was that single phrase from the Book of Genesis echoing endlessly. The crowd calmed. Many were crossing themselves.
    Bruno looked up and saw that the shaft of light came from an evenly shaped circle. He looked at the ground below the hole and saw the crumpled remains of the cradle that could be winched up and down, available to any tourist who was prepared to pay the twenty euros for the ride. The rope that raised and lowered the cradle had come free from the winch and lay in forlorn loops amid the wreckage. Bruno dismissed the idea of any accidental release of the cradle; the timing had been too perfect for that. Some of the crowd were already calling out that it was a miracle.
    ‘And if that doesn’t get us onto the TV news tonight, nothing will,’ said the Baron, as he slapped the Mayor on the back.
    ‘This way,’ said the Mayor as they emerged from the cave’s entry tunnel and into the sunlight. ‘We’re all going to lunch.’
    He shepherded Bruno, J-J and the Baron into the minibusthe town used to take its old folk on outings and went back to the cave entrance saying he would fetch Father Sentout, the hero of the hour. J-J climbed back out, signalling Bruno to follow, and apologizing to the Baron. ‘Police business,’ he said and steered Bruno towards the bushes.
    ‘The Prefect came into my office this morning early, something he’s never done before. He told me to think again about pursuing that fraud inquiry into your holiday village project. Then he pointed his finger at the ceiling and left.’
    ‘Pressure from the top?’
    ‘Very high,’ came J-J’s reply. ‘So I made a discreet check with his secretary and he’d had a short call just before he came to see me from the office of the Defence Minister followed by another from the Elysée. Since I have a tender regard for my pension …’ J-J said, and shrugged.
    ‘I understand,’ said Bruno, momentarily distracted by the sight of Foucher coming down the slope towards the ticket office on the path that led up to the staff housing. Bruno caught himself. It also led up to the winch that controlled the basket. ‘Thanks for trying,’ he added hurriedly to J-J.
    ‘It stinks to me, but there we are. And I think you might want to reconsider your own priorities here. Talking of fraud, I suppose you want me to believe you weren’t involved in that little performance in there with the falling cradle?’
    He gave Bruno a playful punch on the arm with the false