The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

on the computer,’ she replied, taking off her helmet and shaking out her white-blonde hair.
    ‘I’ll be back in five minutes.’ This time he looked both ways before he crossed the road and headed for the twelfth-century church of St Louis that dominated this part of the town. Built in an age of faith to hold hundreds, today it could count only a handful of worshippers who seemed to be outnumbered by the choir. Father Sentout’s sonorous voice was stressing the importance of these weeks after Easter in the lives of the faithful and rolled on undeterred by Bruno’s entry. From habit rather than devotion, Bruno dipped a knee and crossed himself, then moved discreetly to the shadow of a pillar and looked for Fullerton. He spotted him in the centre of an empty row of chairs, kneeling and apparently in prayer, and waited until Fullerton resumed his seat.
    ‘Sorry to disturb you, but the chief of detectives for the region wants to see you and we also need to check your brother’s computer,’ he whispered.
    ‘Can’t it wait?’
    ‘Sorry, no. There’s a bit of a fuss about your taking them.’
    Fullerton sighed at Bruno’s words, but nodded agreementand the two men crept as quietly as they could along the row and out of the church. Father Sentout ignored their movement and the rest of the congregation seemed too intent on his sermon to notice, or perhaps they were simply asleep.
    ‘Sorry to have caused a problem. Once I had the password and got in I couldn’t wait to find out what was on the hard drive,’ Fullerton said. ‘I didn’t think you’d need it right away, you all seemed so caught up in the stolen goods. Anyway, I hope you’ll be pleased with my progress.’
    He explained that he’d found a long trail of emails between his brother and Paul, some about
brocante
sales, some personal and a lot about their shared interest in the history of the local Resistance and the Neuvic robbery. There were also exchanges of emails with other men, including Yves. Francis Fullerton had kept a separate file for his travel bookings and expenses, and each of his many trips to France had been carefully itemized with dates and hotel costs. It was pretty clear from the exchanges with Paul about which houses would be empty, Fullerton explained, that his brother had been up to his old tricks with stolen goods again. And there were hundreds of photos on the hard drive of furniture, each one labelled with a reference number for the house it came from.
    ‘Will you give me a receipt for it, since I want to be sure to get it back?’
    ‘Yes, of course. I’ll wait here and you can bring it down. I presume it’s in your hotel room?’
    He returned within two minutes and Bruno handed him a receipt torn from his notebook, and checked that Fullerton was planning to stay at least three more days. The magistrates had said they hoped to release the body on Tuesday and hehad tentatively booked a cremation for Wednesday. Fullerton ducked back into the church.
    Armed with Dougal’s list and the laptop, Bruno re-entered the room where J-J and Yveline were comparing photos of items of furniture against the inventory of the barn. He put the laptop on the desk, scribbled down the password and explained how Dougal’s list showed the holiday homes that Paul Murcoing and his sister would know to be empty.
    ‘It’s a total of twenty-two houses, but I know some of these addresses and they’re close to a town or to neighbours who would spot people coming and going. I reckon there are maybe fifteen that are remote enough to give Murcoing the security he’d need. One of them is Crimson’s house, so that cuts it down to fourteen.’
    J-J looked at Yveline, who pursed her lips and said: ‘We can’t do fourteen simultaneous raids, not without bringing in
Mobiles
from all over France. They won’t do that just for a murder. Three at a time is the best we could do, and that would mean getting onto Bordeaux for an extra squad.’
    She picked up the little red monkey from the top of her computer and began to pace the room. As if talking to herself she went on: ‘Then we’d have to get approval from the
juge d’instruction
and that would mean full precautions, helicopters, thorough reconnaissance, warnings through a bullhorn. Each squad could do a maximum of two hits a day and you can’t keep that kind of activity quiet, so then it would be all over the local radio. And what if they’re moving around from place to place?’
    Yveline