Chapter 7 "Machinations"

SNCF Marshalling yard,

Tessy-les-Pueles

Gravel crunched under Staniek's feet as he crossed the marshalling yard. Old carriages and goods trucks lay rusting and redundant in the sidings located around the yard. An old shunter, yellow paint peeling, sat to his left. He stepped over the rails, and headed towards the sheds at the edge of the railway track.

Once on the asphalt Staniek turned and looked at his surroundings. Quiet and unused. Perfect. No chance of being disturbed tonight.

This is the end of the line DuBois. Grinning at his own joke he turned and strode out of the yard and headed north towards the town.

In the dim light she came to him, hair flowing in the breeze. He reached out to touch her. Laughing playfully she dodged out of the way. Teasing him, tempting him Encouraging him to follow her. He rose off the grass following her towards the fountain. Running yet never making up any distance. She turned and faced him. Her beauty radiated to him. Never before had she appeared like this to him. His soul ached to possess her, his arms to hold her... Behind her… a figure. Some sixth sense told warned him of danger...He never saw the sword. Just the flash of light as it arced through the air neatly severing her head from her body. Her face grinning as her head dropped to the floor. He willed himself to attack the figure but found that he couldn't move. He screamed her name, and groped for a weapon... anything would do. His sword turned to rope in his hand. There had to be something else...a stone! Mustering all his strength he hurled it at the figure...

"Manman Bondye!" yelled the maid. The ashtray hit the wall close to her. DuBois awoke with a start. The fountain was gone. He was alone, in a hotel room with the maid.

He pulled the sheets up around his waist. "I'm sorry." he said. "I... I was having a nightmare."
The maid, an illegal, looked at him fearfully. "I'm sorry too" she said in broken French." I knocked and there was no answer. I thought that I could clean the room."
DuBois sighed. The maid looked like he felt, on the edge, and as if the wrong choice of words could send her over. In her case that would be screaming down the hallway. He'd have a hard time explaining that to the powers that be.

"Give me ten minutes" he replied, "then I will vacate the room." he said. The maid nodded, and left.

What was going on? The dream had seemed so real. DuBois swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hung his head between his knees. A little too much of the Cognac last night.

Last night.

Moller. Staniek. Message.

Ignoring the nausea of his hangover he hurriedly dressed and left the room.

Down in the lobby DuBois waited until the queue had cleared. With exaggerated politeness he stepped aside for the young man struggling with a cello case and opened the door to the outside. The warm air came rushing in and made his hangover return with a vengeance. The day promised to be a hot one. A seltzer was top of the menu, after he had checked for a message. He returned to the desk his stomach churning. Nerves or alcohol, he could not tell. Both probably.

"Salle 187. Has any one left a message for me?" he asked the clerk.
"I shall see." The clerk walked the rack behind him. "I am afraid there is nothing in the rack. Are you expecting something in particular?"

DuBois passed over his ID card. The clerk examined it and then looked behind DuBois before turning his attention back, raising an eyebrow quizzically. Without turning around DuBois shook his head. No, this was not an immigration matter.

"Ah yes Monsieur DuBois, there is something for you. The night concierge collected it early this morning. The gentlemen did not leave his name"
"No matter, I know who he is." DuBois took the letter and left the hotel. He walked down the street heading for the river. Seltzer was abandoned in favour of coffee, strong coffee. A small cafe overlooking the river served his purpose. Once he had been served he fingered the package. Inside would be the information leading him to Yvette's killer. Hands trembling he began to read.

DuBois,

Staniek is still here in Normandy. There is an old SNCF goods yard, three miles south of town, on the edge of Tessy-les-Pueles. You will find him there. This place is quiet and isolated and suits Staniek perfectly. It is ruined and run-down, and few people have cause to go there as I am sure you know. It has everything he needs – a place to hide, some security and of course power. A brief check of electrical records suggests there is a slight loss of voltage in the area. While some circuits are undoubtedly live, I suggest that the pylons are being tapped. If my contacts are incorrect, you may be onto the biggest drugs lab find in recent years!

This information I fear, did not come cheaply. My contacts needed their palms crossing with more than a few pieces of silver it must be said. Regrettably therefore I must ask you for remuneration of the amount of ten thousand US dollars. This is steep but I know that you value this information highly. I have paid this from personal funds as a gesture of goodwill towards you.

I must ask that you leave the money with the concierge at the hotel for me to collect. That way I can be sure of reimbursement whatever the outcome. It is not that I doubt you my friend, but many a lucky stroke has won a fight.

You will have to move quickly. My sources indicate that he will soon be moving on. There are rumours of a drug cartel supplying heroin through Malta bidding for his services. Be at the yard after dark, I suggest after 10pm tonight and you will find Staniek.

Bonne Chance,

JM

DuBois closed his eyes. Tonight. Tonight he would come face to face with Yvette's murderer, avenge her death and she could finally rest.
"God Bless you Moller. You truly are heaven sent."

Notes on Chapter 7

Translations:

Manman Bondye – (Haitian Creole) Mother of God.

Bonne Chance – (French) Good Luck.

SNCF – State-owned French rail operator.