A/N: Thank you for reading. The site is a bit glitchy at the moment, but I am pressing on. I should mention, there are nineteen chapters to this tale, so far. It may grow a little, it usually does!
So, where is Porthos?
oOo
Chapter Nine
Meanwhile:
Porthos was used to footwork.
He quite enjoyed the mundanity of it, especially when there was a goal at the end of it. Too often, he had slogged around Paris to no avail, later falling into bed with sore feet and a feeling of failure.
Not today.
Today he had a destination in mind. More footwork and cajoling of some of the locals and hopefully, he would have a lead.
A lead was all he wanted.
He had continued his pursuit of the truck on his laptop at home, leaving the office before Treville got in.
By now, Aramis would be spitting feathers he knew, but he had given him no clue as to what he was doing and Aramis would feel compelled to stay with Athos at the hospital. He felt bad about that, but once he had a goal in mind, anyone would agree, he would not give up until he had a result.
The truck had pulled in front of Athos at the junction; slowing and stopping, before continuing on. They had assumed the driver was unaware of the resulting carnage, or had fled the scene. Porthos though, believed it was arranged to happen just like that.
The SUV had appeared as the truck set off its lumbering course again, before Athos had put the Alpha into gear and gunned the engine.
It had been an ambush.
The SUV had slammed into his wing and sent him spinning. Thereafter, all eyes – all police eyes – were on what happened. They had the registration of the SUV. They had evidence of the driver's intent. They had his face on camera. Mendez had made sure they had seen him.
Meanwhile, the truck had vanished.
Porthos had searched the CCTV footage for side streets. When the footage ran out, he went back and noted the businesses in the streets. Later, he rang them and asked them if they had cameras located on their frontage. Some had, though most were directed at their own entrances. One though, had an attached lock-up and his camera covered a wider area.
By arrangement, this was where Porthos was heading now.
It was a wine shop, its large frontage covered one third of the side street. Porthos stood across the street and took in the shop from the opposite side. Turning, he could see the intersecting road where he had lost the truck in his earlier surveillance of the local street cameras.
He was slowly piecing it together, bit by bit.
Crossing over to the shop, he pushed open the door and flashed his id card as the proprietor looked up.
"Come in, Monsieur," the man said, expecting him.
"Thank you for seeing me," Porthos said, as he closed the door behind him.
"Put up the sign, if you will," the man said, indicating the sign hanging on the door.
Porthos reached up and turned the sign to "Closed" and followed the man into the back of the premises, to a small office.
Maurice Pellier was a small, rotund man. He had an easy disposition and wore a smart grey suit with a red waistcoat beneath. Small gold spectacles sat on his nose. His reached out his hand and Porthos shook it, noting he had impeccably manicured nails.
Pellier indicated a chair and Porthos gratefully dropped his bulk into it.
"Can I interest you in a glass of wine?" M. Pellier asked, with a ready smile which reached his pale blue eyes. "I have plenty."
"Thank you, no," Porthos returned his smile. How Athos would have loved Pellier's little kingdom, he thought, his breath catching.
The man shrugged amiably, as he sat and pulled up a file on his computer.
"When you rang," he continued, "I feared I may have deleted the footage. But, you are in luck. This is the date you want, yes?"
Porthos leaned forward and noted the date in the bottom right of the screen as the street view appeared and nodded, a feeling of anticipation creeping over him now.
"That's it," Porthos breathed
"Well, no doubt you would like to take command," the man replied, pushing his chair back and allowing Porthos to take his place.
Porthos looked surprised.
"You're sure?" he said.
"Take as long as you wish," he man waved at him and left him to it. "And let me know if you change your mind about the wine. I have an excellent Chablis," he said, as he disappeared.
Porthos didn't know much about wine, but, judging by this man, he knew that whatever he was offered would be of excellent quality. He leaned forward and began to scroll through the footage. Maurice Pellier had not indicated that he had found anything on the footage, merely that Porthos was welcome to look, so Porthos held his breath as his eyes flicked through the images.
Delivery vans came and went on the black and white, slightly grainy footage. People hurried past the shop. Cars drove past or parked, while people shopped for cases of wine. But there was no silver coloured truck.
After twenty minutes, Porthos rubbed his face. About to give up, M. Pellier came through once more.
"Have you found anything?" he asked, standing quietly behind him.
"Nothing yet," Porthos murmured, a little deflated.
"What is it exactly you are looking for?" the man said, putting his glasses on and leaning across.
It would do no harm to tell the man, Porthos thought. He had been very helpful, after all.
"I'm lookin' for a silver or grey coloured truck that was involved in a collision on the junction of Rue Ferou," Porthos replied. "We tracked it, but it disappeared."
"Ah," the man said. "The CCTV cameras are not on every side street. We have campaigned for that, but the Authorities are slow," he added with an apologetic shrug.
Porthos went to log off, but the man put a hand on his shoulder.
"This camera," he said, pointing at the top right hand quadrant on the screen that showed footage from over his lock-up, "Does allow you to see the street at the end," he said, "Just. If your truck passed down that street, you may catch a glimpse of it."
"But that wouldn't help much," Porthos added, flatly. "Dammit," he bit out, rubbing his hand over his face.
Pellier quietly observed him.
"This is more than regular police work, I think," the man said, quietly.
Porthos sat back, before looking up at the man.
"I do not wish to pry, Officer," Pellier said, quickly, turning to step away.
"You're not," Porthos sighed. "And you're right. This is personal."
"I see," M. Pellier replied, kindly.
He pulled up a chair and sat elegantly beside him, gently tugging his waistcoat down and making himself comfortable.
"Well," he began, "As I said, we have campaigned for better security. Some of us have installed our own cameras and I know my friend Henri, has his own cameras over his jewellers."
"On that street?" Porthos said, his eyebrows shooting up.
"Yes. It may lead you a little further in your quest, yes?"
"Yeah," Porthos said, leaning forward once more.
They both watched as Porthos went through the images once more. This time, he didn't focus on the passing vans and cars, but at the top right hand corner of the images, where the man indicated the next street was, just about visible in the night time images.
"There!" the man cried, after a few agonising minutes, patting Porthos firmly on the shoulder.
"Yes!" Porthos hissed, as the shape passed quickly into and out of vision. The right size and the right shape.
"Now, you need to go and visit my friend Henri Joubert," Maurice Pellier said, happily.
He held up a finger as Porthos rose and pulled out his cell phone. A few moment later, his friend, Joubert, had been appraised of the situation and was expecting a visit from one of France's Musketeers.
"Thank you Monsieur Pellier," Porthos said, as he held out his hand.
"You are most welcome, Officer," the man replied. "I hope you find what you are looking for. Come back any time, when circumstances allow."
"I will," Porthos smiled. "You can count on it. I know someone who would love to spend a little time here."
"Then they are most welcome too!" Ms Pellier smiled. "I can close the shop and offer a private visit," he added.
"He would like that," Porthos laughed.
As he left his shop, he felt lighter than he had in a long time.
To be continued ...
