Plaisance
Humphrey insisted on driving. They hired a car in Foix and headed east. Their rendezvous with Olaf was in the mountains directly to the south. Humphrey took a circuitous route. He said they were pretending to be tourists so they should get in a bit of touring. Kirstin watched the countryside flash by and wished Humphrey would pay more attention to the road and less to the scenery.
It was magnificent. Deep gorges, towering cliffs and lots of opportunities for an accident. The signs of ancient habitation were everywhere. Over the years, a huge amount of effort had gone into piling one stone upon another. Impressive fortifications ran along ridges. Stone bridges spanned raging torrents. Towers poked up around every corner.
Humphrey left the main highway and followed a tourist bus along a road that snaked up the hillside and ended beside an ancient building surrounded by a high wall. The view was stunning. Needle-shaped peaks poked up on one side. Snow-capped mountains dominated the horizon on another. Thickly-wooded slopes rolled away to the north.
Kirstin poked her head out of the car window and looked around. A poster on a wall advertised a recital of medieval music. People were streaming out of the bus and going inside. She turned to Humphrey.
‘You’ve not brought me here to listen to music?’
‘No, Mother. I’ve brought you here to see this place.’
‘It’s just another castle, Humphrey.’ Kirstin closed the window. ‘The Pyrenees are full of them.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘What’s special about this one?’
‘It’s not a castle.’
‘It’s got a high enough wall.’
‘That doesn’t make it a castle.’
‘So what’s the wall for?’
‘To keep the riffraff out.’
‘Riffraff?’
‘Yes, Mother. I am referring to the lower classes. When you belong to the ruling classes you don’t want every Tom, Dick and Harry poking their noses into what you are doing. This place is a plaisance. It’s where the super-rich went on holidays and did pleasant things together.’
‘Humphrey.’ Kirstin removed a tissue from her handbag. ‘I have not come all this way for a history lesson. We are up against a dangerous group of people that you refer to as the Cabal. Since we have made their acquaintance, they have murdered a plane-load of people in mid-Atlantic, thrown an old man off a balcony in London and arranged for a young woman to be eaten by sharks in South Africa.’ Kirstin blew her nose. ‘And … I almost forgot. They killed three other members of the young lady’s family in a car crash.’
‘I am acutely aware of that.’
‘So why have you brought me to this plaisance thing?’
‘I think the Cabal have a modern version near here.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘The pollen on Olaf’s woolly hat.’
‘That came from a number of places, Humphrey.’
‘Most came from here.’
‘There were also pollens from Columbia and South Africa.’
‘Yes. But they represent just a few months of the year when the plants are in flower. The pollens from the Pyrenees cover all four seasons. This is where Olaf is based.’
‘That doesn’t mean the Cabal has a base here.’
‘Olaf is their number-one hitman, Mother. They need to keep a tight hold on him. They can’t have him wandering off on his own.’
‘Olaf is here because he is recording rock art.’
‘Yes, Mother. The Cabal has to keep him occupied when he’s not killing people for them.’
‘So they made their base here where there is rock art for him to record? Is that what you are saying?’
‘No, Mother. It doesn’t work like that. Olaf is here because the Cabal has a base here. I have chosen to call it a plaisance because of the way these people operate. It is the sort of place where people like Cuthbert Maguire go when they are not cruising on their yachts or staying in penthouse suites in Manhattan. People like Cuthbert are on the move all the time. The main difference between them and the medieval barons is that they travel on aircraft and not on horses. Otherwise, not much has changed.’
‘And it’s just a coincidence that it’s near Olaf’s work?’
‘It’s near his work because they found this project for him. It doesn’t matter where you go. There will always be some priceless gems from the past for Olaf to investigate.’
‘Very well,’ Kirstin nodded. ‘I take your point. Have you any idea where this plaisance might be?’
‘No. But I mean to find out. Olaf knows where it is. We shall be meeting him in a few hours.’
‘You seem very relaxed.’
‘I am, Mother.’
‘Humphrey. You amaze me. You have just described Louise Magnusson’s darling son as the Cabal’s chief assassin. Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘Why should it?’
‘We are about to enter an underground chamber with him. Have you brought your gun?’
Humphrey shook his head.
‘That is very lax of you.’
‘No, Mother. I just don’t want to be arrested when I’m boarding a plane. You may have noticed that the civil aviation authorities carry out very thorough searches these days.’
‘Not as thorough as you think.’ Kirstin tapped her shoulder. ‘I’ve brought mine and I shall use it if necessary.’
The entrance to Olaf’s cave was not as Kirstin had expected. He had given them the GPS coordinates of where to go and the car’s navigation system took them to a building beside an airstrip. Humphrey pulled up in front and reached for his phone. Before he had time to use it, the door of the building opened and Olaf appeared.
‘Come in Humph. I’m glad you could make it.’
He spoke in English with a distinct American accent.
‘I’ll introduce you to the team. They’ve been wanting to meet you.’
That sounded sinister. Kirstin wondered what Al Capone said to his victims before he introduced them to his firing squad. She eased her gun from under her armpit and followed the two men inside. Olaf was ignoring her. Under normal circumstances she would have been offended. These were not normal circumstances.
Al Capone favoured garages for his executions and left the walls pockmarked by bullet holes. Kirstin peered inside and didn’t see any. The walls were made of plasterboard and lined with tables stacked with computing equipment. Two young men rose as they entered. Olaf gestured towards Humphrey.
‘Guys. This is Professor Hansen.’
They stepped forward and shook hands. One was called Ian. He spoke with a Scottish accent. The other’s name was Roger. He spoke with a French accent and pronounced his name in the French way.
‘We’re going to show Humph the galleries,’ Olaf announced. ‘Then you can tell him about your side of the operation. Get his views on those tricky algorithms. We need someone who can look at them from an entirely different angle.’
Olaf ushered Humphrey towards a flight of stairs. Ian and Roger followed. Kirstin tagged on behind. She was aware that Olaf lacked more than a few social graces but hadn’t expected to be totally ignored.
The stairs led to a passage cut through the bedrock. Lights flickered at the far end and they entered a large chamber. Suddenly, the air felt cold. Kirstin looked around. There were no bullet marks. The rock was in pristine condition and covered with marvelous paintings. She had visited the caves in the Ardeche region. Their prehistoric rock art was world famous. These looked even better. There were paintings of mammoths, woolly rhinos and other extinct animals. Herds of long-horned cattle competed with reindeer and horses. They looked totally prehistoric and genuine, apart from one vital detail.
They were still being painted. A man was crouched beneath a rocky overhang applying the final touches to the antlers of a reindeer. An oil lamp flickered beside him.
Olaf pointed in his direction.
‘This is Carlos. He is one of our artists in residence. He specialises in reindeer and cattle.’
Ian turned to Kirstin and grinned.
‘He’ll paint you a Monet or Renoir if you ask him. He’s wanted for forgery. We’re hiding him here.’
‘Don’t listen to that stupid clown, Senora.’ Carlos straightened himself up. ‘The idiot has no appreciation of art. If it were left to him, a machine would apply the pigment to the rock. Senor Magnusson knows that the final work must be done by a true artist.’
‘That’s right,’ Ian laughed. ‘By a forger …’
They continued to joke. Kirstin eased her gun back under her armpit. Olaf was a strange bird but the people working for him seemed totally normal. She couldn’t imagine any of them killing people.
‘The original galleries are a kilometre from here.’ Olaf explained. ‘Our aim is to create an exact replica. They have survived for thirty-six-thousand years. They are a priceless window into a vanished world and it is our duty to protect them for posterity. Entry to the original galleries is restricted to persons such as ourselves and our incursions are strictly monitored. What you see here is for the general public.’
Olaf turned to Kirstin as if suddenly aware of her presence.
‘These galleries will be part of a visitors centre. There will be a main building with educational displays and other exhibits. It will lead through to where we are standing. A lot remains to be done.’
‘Are you making an exact copy?’ Humphrey asked.
‘We are working with high-definition laser scans. They are accurate to the nearest millimetre in all three dimensions …’
Kirstin listened as Olaf chattered on. He claimed the work was being held up by computing difficulties and he needed Humphrey’s help. Humphrey nodded and agreed with everything. Kirstin wondered what was really going on in her son’s mind.
Kate fed another banana to the lemurs and wondered about their health problems. They were an endangered species. That could mean they occupied a restricted habitat and had a restricted diet. Bananas might not be part of their regular food intake. At any rate, they were suffering stomach upsets. She cursed Rodriquez. They had entered into a business relationship and he had reneged when he got a more lucrative offer.
The guy was a total arsehole.
The words ran through her mind but did nothing to improve her situation. David was just over the border in South Africa. She needed a plane to get him out. The idea of hijacking one belonging to Rodriquez’s mates was totally out. She wouldn’t stand a chance. The guys were into gun running. Anyone who messed with them got the chop.
Kate threw the last of the bananas to the lemurs and got up. She had to reassess her situation. She was stuck on an isolated airstrip with no roads. Supplies were delivered by air or sea. A thought entered her head. Perhaps she could steal a boat.