The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

in range.’
    Another uncomfortable ride and then a further hot and stuffy wait until Crimson returned from the Campagne phone booth and reported: ‘He says I have to drive on to the next phone box, in Audrix, by the
Mairie
. I take a left on the road to Coux and then a right at the top of the hill. He must have scouted this all out carefully.’
    ‘
Putain
, he’ll see us coming up that long hill if we follow,’ said J-J. ‘Josette, get Jofflin to drive up from Coux, go past Audrix and then he can wait at that cheese shop just below the village. We’ll go the long way round through St Denis and use the parking lot at the big cave. And see if they can get a trace on the Audrix phone booth.’
    Another drive up a long hill with endless bends until Bruno felt his right leg start to cramp. He braced it against the door and tried to bend himself double at the waist so he could straighten the leg. Realizing something was wrong, Balzac wriggled up Bruno’s trunk to lick his face and then found his way out from under the blanket. Audrix was one of the highest villages in the region, a good place for a watcher with binoculars to follow the progress of approaching cars.
    ‘Are you alright?’ Crimson asked.
    ‘Just a cramp, I’ll be fine.’
    ‘Sorry, we’re almost there. If I’d thought, I’d have rented a bigger car. By the way, I told Paul I have my dog with me. He asked what it was and I said a basset hound puppy. He laughed.’
    At Audrix, the wait for Crimson to return was considerably longer and J-J told Bruno over the phone that he could not hear the mike. His voice was nervous and J-J kept asking what was the delay and why was Crimson not returning. Bruno replied that he had no answer. He could see nothing and it would be too risky for a head to suddenly appear from the rear seat of the Peugeot.
    ‘It’s probably taking time for Crimson to write down the directions,’ Bruno said into his phone. ‘It means we’re on the last lap. Wait, I hear footsteps. That’s probably Crimson coming back to the car.’
    The driver’s door opened and Crimson spoke as he settled himself and attached the safety belt.
    ‘I’m to drive on down the hill, cross the railway line and then take the first road on the left, at a sign marked Tennis,’ he reported. ‘Are you hearing this alright, J-J?’
    ‘Yes, it’s faint but we can hear you. Speak the directions slowly and Bruno, could you hold the phone out from under the rug? We should be able to hear it better.’
    Crimson repeated the directions. The terrain was all familiar and Bruno followed the route in his head. He’d visited the tennis club, had even played on its courts in tournaments, and he’d warmed up on that rugby field before playing against the local team. He knew the track to the motocross circuit, as part of a route he’d occasionally taken on horseback.
    ‘We’ll do the switch immediately you turn left at the sign for the tennis club,’ Bruno said. ‘There’s good cover there from hedges. Leave the engine running and wait for J-J.’
    ‘I heard all that,’ said J-J. ‘But be sure Crimson stays in hiding when he’s out of the car. I’m coming but I don’t want to be there immediately, it would look too suspicious. And the chopper’s on its way. I’ll hold it at Le Buisson until I hear from you.’
    ‘Turning now to the tennis club and stopping,’ said Crimson, and Bruno felt the weight shift as he left the car. ‘Good luck.’

29
    Bruno clambered over the seats and behind the wheel, closed the door and drove on into the parking area. He turned off the engine, left the key in the ignition, picked up the file on the passenger seat and caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess from being beneath the blanket so he ran his fingers through to straighten it. He climbed out of the Peugeot and freed Balzac to scurry around the car. The dog lifted his leg against a wheel, darted to the tennis-club building and sniffed around the door. When Bruno began to walk, certain that binoculars would be watching, Balzac followed.
    The shoes he’d been given felt odd, as if one heel was higher than the other, presumably for the tracker. It was a warm day and the flak vest was already damp against his singlet from being beneath that damn blanket. Bruno checked his watch when he passed the small vineyard. He’d been walking five minutes. Another eight minutes took him to the railway crossing, where a pair of Alsatians barked at