Guys like me are trained survivors. Million dollar products of the most sophisticated war machine ever known to the human species. Looking around the forest camp I didn’t see trained survivors, I saw born survivors.

I drove on the way back. Father Bousquet snored. Miriam closed her eyes. Maybe she slept, maybe not. Either way, she didn’t make a sound. It was strange getting back on the road after the migrant camp.

I thought about Gilles Vaugeois. What had he gotten himself involved with? Whatever it was seemed unresolved. I figured I was now the one to resolve it. Like a family affair. First I had to understand what it was. But I’m not an investigator. That’s not my skill. The only way I know how to operate is directly and with extreme prejudice. Which isn’t to say I’m a blunt instrument, I’m a sharp one.

Chapter Nineteen

It was late in the afternoon by the time we got back to Alencourt. Father Bousquet and Miriam were awake.

We bumped over the bridge. The sun was still high and the river looked beautiful. I looked across the cab and into the forest. The high whining of a trail bike had started up. They dropped me off at the driveway. When the van cleared off, I stood still and listened to the forest sounds. The trail bike was somewhere near the bridge.

I figured that in France it made some sense to live by Napoleon’s maxim: ‘First I get involved, then I see.’

Simone was having coffee in the drawing room on the right. With her was an older lady named Odile. Odile was very nice and even stood up for me when I came in. I shook her hand and dutifully sipped coffee and ate a piece of cake.

After enough time had passed I said, “Ma’am, do you mind if I take the car?”

Simone touched my arm. “Are you going to talk to the boys on the motor bike, Tom?” She looked spacey, like she’d taken a happy pill before her friend came over.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll just have a little chat.”

Simone Vaugeois had a big grin on her face.

Odile was perched on the edge of a fancy old chair. “Do you know the speed limit? The police are very strict.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Simone fetched me the keys. I said, “I’ll be back in ten or fifteen minutes.”

She said, “Be careful, Tom. And please be gentle with my car. I even have a name for her.”

I said, “Of course. What’s the name?”

Simone said, “I call her Bertha.”