Read Chapter 13: THE CHÂTEAU

The château had lost half its roof to shelling but retained a wine cellar, two habitable rooms and enough distance from the front to attract businessmen who wished to visit war without sleeping in it.

Savarin occupied it twice a month.

Bellon could not authorize a search without alerting group command. Cazeneuve would not testify. Roche's ledger proved crimes but might be dismissed as the private records of a corrupt clerk.

So Luc proposed burglary.

Vautrin approved immediately.

Perrin said, "This is why officers should not be consulted about sensible plans."

They went at night in a repair truck: Luc, Perrin and Vautrin, still officially dead. Vautrin wore civilian overalls and complained that mechanics' clothing lacked dignity.

"It has pockets," Luc said. "Dignity has none."

The château stood among bare vines and spring mud. One automobile was parked outside. Light showed in an upstairs window.

Perrin remained with the truck.

Luc and Vautrin entered through a kitchen whose lock yielded to a strip of spring steel. Luc had learned such tricks in his father's garage from customers who lost keys and expected mechanics to solve all forms of stupidity.

Savarin's office smelled of cigar smoke and damp plaster.

They searched desks, cabinets, valises.

Nothing.

Then Luc noticed the fireplace had been rebuilt recently. One stone beside the hearth was cleaner than the others.

Behind it sat a metal document box.

The lock was better.

Vautrin whispered, "Can you open it?"

"Eventually."

"We have perhaps ten minutes."

"Then eventually must improve."

Luc used two small screwdrivers and a piece of wire. The mechanism resisted, then clicked.

Inside lay correspondence from Aéro-Moteurs du Nord, invoices, private memoranda—and Fournier's ledger.

It was worse than Roche's.

Payments were tied to named officers. Prototype failures were concealed. One memo recommended "cultivation of combat records" for selected pilots before procurement trials. Another discussed "removal of adverse operational testimony."

Vautrin read it twice.

"They killed men to sell engines."

"They killed men for many reasons. The engines merely paid for the opportunity."

Footsteps sounded in the corridor.

They extinguished the lamp.

The office door opened.

Fournier entered carrying a candle and a pistol.

He saw the open stone.

"Who's there?"

Vautrin stepped from behind the curtain.

Fournier's face went white.

"Ghost," Vautrin said.

Fournier fired.

The shot shattered a mirror. Vautrin struck his wrist. The two men crashed into the desk.

Luc grabbed the document box and swung it into Fournier's shoulder. The pistol fell.

Fournier was stronger than either expected. He threw Vautrin against the wall, seized a fireplace poker and came at Luc.

Luc caught the blow on the metal box. Pain jolted through his arm.

Then Perrin appeared in the doorway with a wrench.

"I heard diplomacy failing."

One blow ended the fight.

They bound Fournier and searched him.

In his pocket was a train ticket to Paris for the following morning and a telegram draft:

VAUTRIN REPORT FALSE. MOREAU ACTIVE. CLEAN FIELD BEFORE TRANSFER.

"Clean field," Perrin read. "Charming."

Luc looked at Fournier.

"What does transfer mean?"

Fournier spat blood and smiled.

"Your squadron moves tomorrow. Records burn. Aircraft scatter. Men die. By next week none of you can prove who touched what."

"And Savarin?"

"Savarin survives. Men like Savarin always survive wars."

Vautrin picked up the ledger.

"Not this one."

They left the château before dawn with Fournier tied beneath a tarpaulin in the truck.

For the first time, Luc believed they had enough.

Then they saw flames on the horizon in the direction of the new aerodrome.