The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

pots of coffee. If you call the Mayor he’ll arrange for someone to bring them out. Where’s Yveline?’
    ‘It’s her day off. She said she was going shopping in Périgueux.’
    ‘Call her and brief her and suggest that when she gets back she holds the fort at the Gendarmerie but I need you and the rest of the squadron out there as soon as you can.’
    ‘Understood. I’ll see you there. I’ll get Ivan to make ham and cheese, they’re always the most popular.’
    Bruno grinned. He could always count on Sergeant Jules for the essentials. He put his phone in his breast pocket and tried to concentrate on his driving while despite himself his brain kept building mental maps of Crimson’s house and grounds, access points and vulnerabilities. He told himself it was for the eventual arrival of the hostage rescue squad. He knew the rough technique: plastic explosives on front and rear doors simultaneously, as flash-bang grenades went through each of the windows and a ladder team broke into the upper floor.
    But he remembered wooden shutters on Crimson’s ground-floor windows, which made the flash-bangs more of a problem. Drenching the place in tear gas and smoke was the usual alternative but it was risky. The other options were even worse: snipers, starvation and stealthy entry.
    When he arrived at the entrance to Crimson’s drive, Bruno was alone. He parked out of sight, leaving the sidelights on. Avoiding the drive he slipped through the woods at the side of Crimson’s property to scout the sides and rear of the house. The shutters had all been closed and he could see no open windows on the upper floors. Inside the garage was Crimson’s rented car and Brian’s car was parked in front of the doors. Florence’s bicycle leaned against the side wall. There was good cover by the garage for an assault team to form up, and only a single window, probably for a staircase landing, on the nearest wall. The
Mobiles
could cover that window with a silenced gun, put up two ladders and break in that way. That’s how he would do it.
    Bruno crept close to the shuttered windows, each of which showed chinks of light from inside, but there was no sound from the rooms at the rear. One of the mountain bikes wasleaning against the kitchen door, something that might give them a warning if it was moved. Gently he felt along the frame and his fingers touched a taut piece of string that led through the keyhole into the house. There would probably be a bell or something on the other end that would make a noise if the bike was moved.
    At the front of the house, in the room he recalled as Crimson’s study and which had earlier that day been his makeshift operations room, he heard the murmur of voices. The sound was not clear enough for him to tell who was talking but he was sure he heard a woman’s tones and it sounded like Florence. At least he knew where some of them were. The other bike lay against the front door. Paul had probably rigged a warning system on that one, too.
    As he withdrew to the fringe of trees and back to his Land Rover he was sure he was forgetting something. Had there been another door into the house? Perhaps he could find a way to break silently through the French windows. He cast his mind back to his previous visits and remembered the descent to the wine cellar and the hatch for the fuel-oil delivery. He crept back to the rear of the house and felt for the metal plates and the padlock that sealed them. Bolt-cutters could take care of it. Damn, he should have made a sketch of what he could recall of the interior for J-J. There would be five in the house, Paul and Yvonne, Crimson, Florence and Brian.
    Crimson had explained that Florence would be coming to his house after school to hear what had happened with the trap they had set. But why was Brian Fullerton inside? Had he not been supposed to be flying back to England today with his brother’s ashes? Bruno had heard nothing about any delay inthe release of the body, but that must be the explanation, and Brian had become friendly with Crimson. Maybe he’d simply dropped by to say goodbye and walked into the kidnapping. Bruno knew from Pamela’s trips that the Ryanair flight left at around five, so Brian would have missed his flight back from Bergerac by now.
    Bruno stopped, struck by something he had not considered before. That flight usually landed around four, so how had Brian arrived in Bruno’s office on Friday morning? Brian said he had changed the