The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6)

Florence,’ said Crimson. ‘I wish you’d been on the team in my old job. Take a look at this document she cooked up, Bruno. That should smoke our quarry out.’
    He pushed an iPad across the table, and on its screen was what looked like a photocopy of an aged document from some official archive. It looked genuine down to the ancient typescript, the utilitarian grey of the official paper and the marks of little holes where papers had been pinned together. It looked like the contents page of a file, and Bruno recognized some of the words and acronyms – Neuvic, Valmy, FFI, FTP. Other names were new to him, and some words, DIGGER and ARCHER and WHEELWRIGHT, were in capital letters. He asked Crimson to explain.
    ‘The names are simple enough,’ Crimson replied. ‘Maurice Buckmaster was the head of SOE’s section F, which ran operations in France, and Gubbins was the Major-General in overall charge. The document refers to Buckmaster’s report to his boss on the Neuvic train, which makes it look as though London was much more involved in the whole business. The words in capital letters are the names of operational networks. DIGGER was one of the SOE networks active around here in 1944, run by a Frenchman called Jacques Poirier who joined the British army and was known as Captain Jack. He became friendly with Malraux and that document is supposed to be Poirier’s account of what happened to the money. You know the other acronyms,
Francs-Tireurs et Partisans
and so on?’
    ‘They look very convincing. Well done, Florence,’ Bruno said, nodding that he understood the terms. ‘But do these documents exist?’
    Crimson pursed his lips. ‘Some of them do, like the reports from Buckmaster and Poirier, but they haven’t been declassified yet. I know roughly what’s in them and there’s no smoking gun, as our American friends say. It’s fairly routine stuff,reporting rumours about the Neuvic money and saying there’s no confirmation. The fact is, we didn’t really want to know. What we’ve concocted here is just the contents page, but that should be enough to smoke Murcoing out. And Florence also cooked up a new email to Fullerton, with a copy to Murcoing, claiming to come from the Public Records Office as a notice that new files which Fullerton had requested have now been declassified. She copied their official format and it all looks very persuasive.’
    ‘So it does, but now that we have the bait how do you propose to draw Murcoing out into the open if he bites?’
    Crimson ran his fingers over his iPad and another document appeared that looked like an email. It was in serviceable French, but obviously written by a foreigner.
    ‘I set up a new email account with a fake name, and emailed Murcoing,’ Florence said, evidently proud of her work. There was a slight flush to her cheeks as if she were excited by her unexpected role in the venture.
    Bruno quickly read the email, which purported to come from a professional researcher in London who claimed to have done regular archive work for Fullerton at the Public Records Office. It said he’d been sorry to see news of Fullerton’s death in the British press, but Fullerton had earlier given him Murcoing’s address and the researcher wanted to know if Murcoing was still interested in the documents. Murcoing should know that much of the contents of the supposedly declassified files had been blacked out but the researcher had personal contacts who had given him the uncensored version. He was coming to France and would be happy to arrange a meeting, if Murcoing was able to pay the sum agreed with Fullerton.
    ‘We attached the faked contents page to the email,’ Crimson explained. ‘I’m rather proud of that last document, the one dated 1946 that claims to come from the British Embassy in Paris reporting a meeting with American and French government officials on the Neuvic affair.’
    As two black-clad waiters approached the table bearing plates, Crimson ran his fingers over his device and the documents disappeared. He slipped the iPad into a briefcase that rested against his chair. The sommelier arrived and refilled their glasses with the champagne Crimson had ordered, a Celebris from Gosset, one of the oldest of the champagne houses. Bruno had heard of it but never tasted it before. With just a faint hint of sweetness, it went perfectly with the scallops in
beurre blanc
.
    ‘So now we wait for Murcoing to log on to his emails and then to contact you at