The Considine Affair: Chateau Sarony, #3

By RCS Hutching

Horrified, Anna could only watch as the thieves, having accomplished their mission, turned back to retrace their steps and found the blonde American in their path. One of them ran at her, swinging his arm to one side with the clear intention of catching her in the face to knock her out of the way. She ducked and, spinning to her left, landed a side-footed stamp with her right leg to the outside of his knee. The leg buckled at an alarming angle and with a howl of pain, her attacker crashed to the pavement.

A quiet lunch in Dijon took an unexpected turn as Anna and Martin accompanied their American friends to the nearest large town. It was an unpleasant interruption to their research into an intelligence leak that could have compromised the success of the D-Day landings in 1944. The source of the leak had never been identified.

This third Chateau Sarony mystery involves Anna and Martin Price in an investigation that provides a startling conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timewarp Ltd
• Release date: Jun 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781534642430

RCS Hutching

I am English and live in East Sussex, England. For additional information please visit my website.

Book preview

Prologue

The water was cold. Even through the wetsuit he could feel a damp chill permeating it’s supposed insulating qualities. The dampness was of course illusory but he was sure that the temperature was lower than out in the lake. He wished now that he had not given way to the temptation to explore, and briefly considered turning back, but the same compulsion that had drawn him to enter the newly revealed cave mouth pushed him onwards. Almost lazily he moved his large fins to propel himself along the natural underwater tunnel that ran like a great internal water pipe into the heart of the land mass.

His work as a Clearance Diver was not normally exciting but on this occasion his excursion into the chill waters was the result of a small earth tremor. This was Scotland and, although not unheard of, the tremors only rarely occurred. The realisation that earthquakes do occur in the UK comes as quite a shock to a great many members of the population, but this one in 1994 was the first since the 1940s and, in common with other similar natural phenomena, was quite unremarkable. It was what sat up on the land behind the cliff edge that was responsible for his underwater task rather than the event itself.

According to the official records RAF Cowdray was constructed in 1944 but by then, with the tide of war having flowed back to the European mainland and the likelihood of Luftwaffe air strikes rapidly diminishing, the new airfield was no longer needed, and was never put into service. Shortly after its completion an earth tremor caused tiny cracks to appear in the recently completed runway but more noticeable was the slice of land and cliff face that became detached and with a deep rumbling roar slid into the water below. RAF Cowdray remained unwanted and unused for ten years until the Cold War gave it a new strategic value as part of the air defence system to counteract incursions by Russian nuclear bombers. Further technological advances relegated the base to a secondary role and it was not until 1960 that it was reborn as a nuclear research facility and again assumed a degree of importance so far as the Ministry of Defence and the British Nuclear Fuels Authority were concerned. Now, the 1994 seismic activity meant that part of an underwater scree had been shifted to reveal a small entrance barely six feet in diameter and an inquisitive diver had decided to investigate.

Chapter1 - Letter from a Madman

My God it's hot. The words were uttered by Nikki Prendergast as she wriggled with pleasure beneath the large parasol that Martin Price had tilted to give them some relief from the late afternoon sun. She was sitting with Martin and Anna Price on the rear terrace at Chateau Sarony as they waded through the mountain of correspondence generated by the publicity surrounding the Grace Dieu Project. The sanitised version relating the discovery of the bodies of four US Rangers from 1944 was portrayed as the sad result of a routine patrol gone wrong. Timewarp was represented as having followed up the involvement of Pfc Ashby and then, via Lt Col Saultier and Wilhelm Lahm, also uncovering the resting place of The Three Sisters in a Swiss bank. Prominent members of the McLaughlin family of America had publicly expressed appreciation of the Timewarp contribution.

Although Medieval France disappointingly declined to exercise their first refusal regarding Grace Dieu on the grounds that it was too far from their core readership interest, this meant that Anna and Martin were able to control discussion of the subject, and so avoid having to tell outright lies to the media. It also meant that a number of articles were run in US magazines asking why four long lost all-American boys had been found by a small British company rather than an American one. A colour supplement feature on Timewarp did no harm, although it was necessary for them to very firmly insist that puerile references to Indiana Jones and Lara Croft were kept to a minimum.

Jean-Paul Ricard had done a masterful job on behalf of the police, with the co-operation of Gerd Lahm, by presenting the 'official' version of the final events as an unfortunate case of mistaken marital infidelity. Unsurprisingly this did not stop a number of the most unscrupulous tabloids attempting to portray Anna as a combination of a man-eating page 3 girl and a scientific genius. All the ingredients were there for a sensationalised news story. Fortunately, in was in nobody's interest on either a personal or governmental level for the story to be exploited and a complete lack of co-operation by all parties meant that whatever exaggerations were initially printed died an early death through lack of interest. Thus ignored, the sensation-mongers soon moved on to their next victim.

Nonetheless, there is a certain truth in the statement that ‘any publicity is good publicity' because Timewarp became inundated with correspondence, both digital and paper, from across the globe. As a result, the terrace table was occupied by three piles of paper. One consisted of correspondence delivered by the traditional postal system. Another was the result of Nikki printing out those emails thought to have a serious intent (all items mentioning Anna's physical attributes were deleted), and the third was the ‘worthy of a second look' pile. Nikki acted as the first line of defence before adding an occasional sheet of paper to the 'second look' pile, and it was from this that Martin and Anna each took an item to read. How do you fancy a trip to Glasgow Martin? This lady lost her cat ten years ago and still misses it, chuckled Nikki. Poor woman, I’ll send her a polite refusal.

Anna laughed and said It’s amazing isn’t it what strange ideas some people derive from articles about Timewarp? I’ve got one here from an old chap who says he saw a German U-boat while he was working in Scotland twenty years ago, but couldn’t get anyone to believe him.

Bloody Indiana Jones again, grumbled Martin. Perhaps we ought to reconsider, and have your boobs plastered all over the press. I’m sure we could make a fortune, and Nikki could still carry on dealing with the more lascivious correspondents as she does now. What I find a bit disconcerting is the fact that, as JP identified when he first asked us to look at Grace Dieu, we seem to be getting almost no contacts from the archaeological area and instead, the treasure hunting and loony brigades have zeroed in on us.

Oh don't be so grumpy, replied Anna At least we are getting post, and the various interviews and articles are earning quite well. I'm going to get worried if there is no interest, because I'm not flashing my assets for the world to ogle, even if we are on the point of starvation.

Well said Anna chimed in Nikki. There's a limit to a girl's duty so far as some things are concerned. I keep telling Jean-Paul that when he gets his handcuffs out. This announcement produced a stunned silence that was promptly shattered by Nikki's shriek of laughter and a shout of Har har. You should see your faces. They grinned ruefully at each other and Anna realised from the feeling of relief that swept over her that she was still more easily shocked than she would publicly admit.

OK, said Martin I'm ignoring your pathetic attempts at humour Prendergast and suggest that you make sure Monique has a table booked for the four of us this evening. It's bang in the middle of the tourist season and she's bound to be busy. Turning to Anna he said, While the hired help is doing something useful for once, tell me about the madman with the U-boat, I could do with some real humour.

Anna retrieved the letter from the waste bin, but before she could speak Martin said, I hope Loch Ness isn't going to feature.

No, it's not anywhere I've ever heard of, it's a place called Hendry's Pool, does that mean anything to you?

Yes, but for some reason, I'm connecting it with some sort of eco-controversy. All of which is no doubt irrelevant if the letter writer is as mad as a hatter, which he undoubtedly is.

What makes you so sure?

When you mentioned it just now I just thought that working in Scotland 20 years ago is the last place a person would expect to come across a U-boat. If I remember correctly, I'm pretty sure Hendry's Pool is landlocked. There is no way a U-boat could get into it.

Anna pursed her lips, and said, He doesn't sound mad. He says he was doing some security and maintenance work when he noticed what looked like a small cave mouth. He managed to wriggle through and found himself swimming along a sort of subterranean tunnel. Part way along he found a German U-boat, fully submerged of course, but, wedged under hundreds of tons of debris that had dropped from the tunnel roof.

So weren't the authorities interested?

Um, let's see. Oh no, not to put too fine a point on it, he admits he has a history of mental instability. He says he had a breakdown right after this incident and as a consequence was invalided out of the Navy.

I see, said Martin. Well, I guess we should do him the courtesy of taking his letter a little more seriously. He didn't happen to say if he noted a designation number I suppose?

Anna had been in the process of returning the letter to the bin when his comment caused her to pause and look at him with a puzzled expression. You know, Martin, you never fail to surprise me. First of all, without knowing anything about him you label the chap as a madman, then when you find out he's had some problems on the mental illness front you say we should take his letter more seriously. Is it a male thing or are you more contrary than most?

I can answer that, said Nikki who had just finished her phone call. It's a man thing, they're all nuts. Jean-Paul drives me round the bend at times. Claims to support some football team or other and never ceases to hurl abuse at them whenever they appear on television.

Thank you, Nikki. Now that you are back to insulting me I presume you have secured our table?

All done sir, now don't tell me Timewarp is going U-boat hunting? I thought you were both fed up of World War Two and wanted to get the company into proper archaeology. There is a letter in the pile that I thought would take your fancy to do with a Roman burial site.

We may well end up looking at that Nik. I doubt if this will prove of any real interest. But did our friend come up with a boat number Anna?

No, in fact, he says he expects his letter to end up in the bin.

Well, he got that right didn't he. Shame, but at least we can send him an acknowledgement, I don't see our getting involved in a UK project is something to recommend, unless it looks particularly intriguing.

A warm summer evening enjoying an alfresco meal on the patio of Auberge Fleurie takes some beating, and the four of them were soon relaxing over aperitifs. JP kept them entertained with a story about how he had once been arrested in St Tropez for impersonating a police officer. He had been trying to detain a suspect whilst clad only in his beach shorts and as he pointed out, there was nowhere to put his ID. It was the height of the holiday season and although Sarony was not a tourist hotspot Auberge Fleurie was doing a flourishing trade. The drawback for all such businesses is, of course, that it cannot choose its customers in advance and so occasionally difficulties arise.

So it was with the three British men whom Monique had perceptively placed at the table in the corner of the patio farthest from both the road and the building itself. The shouts of laughter and occasional ribald remarks aimed at the young student waitresses and Monique herself, as they busily moved from table to table, although irritating were, fortunately, not understood by the majority of the diners. It was an unwelcome distraction in an otherwise calm and civilised evening. Along with all nationalities, the French have their fair share of citizens who manage to behave in an embarrassingly self-absorbed and dim-witted fashion, although for some reason the British always seem to be particularly obnoxious. With the evening at its height and one or two of the male diners clearly becoming annoyed at the boorish behaviour it was obvious that something was likely to happen. One of the men repeatedly cast a belligerent look around the dining area as if challenging the other customers to dare complain.

Anna and Nikki had the best view of the far corner as they watched Monique scamper around organising, and ensuring that she, rather than her younger student assistants, was the one keeping up with the succession of drinks orders from the increasingly noisy corner table.  Nikki whispered Typical Brits abroad to Anna as the three men called loudly for yet more alcohol.

It was when Monique returned and placed three more bottles of beer on their table that one of them made a grab for her. She slapped his hand away and stalked away from their table with her face portraying a look of fury that Anna had never before seen. Within two minutes she had returned and flung the bill for the drinks onto the table with the words Finish your drinks and go. You are no longer welcome.

And who's gonna make us then? Shouted the eldest of the three. You bloody frogs make me sick, pretending you're so bleeding superior.

Anna had been staring with fascinated revulsion at the trio when the tallest of the three caught her eye and shouted What are looking at Blondie? You French tarts do it for silk stockings my ole grandad said.

JP was in the process of getting to his feet when Martin put a hand on his shoulder and said, I'm co-owner JP, you can step in officially but not as an irritated guest. The Frenchman nodded and resumed his seat although now half turned in the direction of Martin's retreating back.

Anna muttered Oh shit and cast a worried look at Nikki who only grinned and said With our two here I know which side my bets are on.

Martin threaded his way in a deceptively casual manner between the tables and across to the far corner. An ancient tree retained for generations as a rustic feature of the auberge dining area, served to partly separate the troublesome corner from the rest of the clientele. He reached the table and addressed Monique in a short burst of French before switching to English and saying Time to go lads. You've done your best to prove the British can't hold their drink, so settle up and move on. A silence slowly descended on the patio as the occupants of the other tables became aware that there were interesting developments afoot.

Two of the men were aged somewhere in their late thirties with the third being a youngster barely out of his teens. It was the youngster seated to Martin's left who reacted first by jumping to his feet and asking Who do you think you are then, you're English ain'tcha?

A pair of grey eyes swivelled in his direction and the young man suddenly wished he was anywhere but on that particular spot.

Sit down sonny, the words were delivered almost in a conversational tone but the youngster looked hesitantly at the overweight older thirty-something to his left as he hesitatingly resumed his seat. At this point the man sitting on the far side of the table facing Martin rose to his feet in a well-practiced, slow, menacing, fashion with the words Just give me a good reason why we should do what you say mate? The response was not what he expected to hear as Martin’s voice took on a quality that resembled two pieces of stone being scraped together.

Don't call me ‘mate’ you fool.

The silence that had gradually enveloped the patio meant that the words were carried clearly on the night air. Anna sat appalled, thinking Why did you have to say that? Nikki had fully turned around and, with one hand on JP's arm, stared in fascinated silence at the unfolding drama. JP lounged, seemingly unconcerned at his friend's involvement.

The man's face took on a deep red hue and his hands clenched into fists What did you say?

As JP got to his feet, Martin's right hand flashed out and took hold of the surprised man by his throat. By the time JP had reached the corner table the eldest man had half risen with the words Leggo, you're killing 'im. Martin's captive was rapidly turning purple in the face and his legs were beginning to buckle as JP place a hand on his shoulder and said in English Enough Marti. He held his ID open in his other hand and said Pay your bill and go, now. There is a lay-by just along the road past the house with the green post box. Give me your car keys and I will leave your car there. Do not attempt to drive it until the morning or you will be arrested. Now go.

At JP's words, Anna thought she noticed an almost imperceptible nod of Martin's head, following which he released his grip on the almost unconscious man who collapsed in a wheezing heap onto his chair before being hurriedly helped from the patio by his two friends. Martin spoke briefly to Monique and then returned to his table as JP took possession of the car keys and followed the men into the bar.

Nikki was staring open mouthed as he sat down and poured himself some wine. The whole incident with the drunks had spanned no more than a couple of minutes and the other diners soon turned their attention back to their food when it became apparent that the excitement was over. I never really thought of you as a tough guy despite the stories, she said. I thought you were going to kill that bloke Martin.

Anna interrupted her by saying If he had intended to kill him there would be a corpse on the floor Nikki

I'm not a tough guy, young Nik, but I knew if I left it to Monique she would have lost her temper and it could have got nasty before JP could make an official intervention. It was easier this way, and even my wife didn't get upset.

He looked at Anna with raised eyebrows who nodded and replied, It's when you explode that it frightens me. I knew when you just walked across to them that it wouldn't get out of hand. Right JP? Their friend had returned and resumed his seat.

Oui, Anna. He is entitled to keep order on his own premises - within reason.

Chapter2 - Mindreader

You weren't upset about last night? Martin looked across the table at his wife.

Well I wasn't exactly thrilled, but I was more surprised at your comment about Monique, to be honest.

You shouldn't be, bearing in mind her background. She's a tough little thing.

What did you say when you rattled off that French to her?

I told her I would deal with it. I guessed that she was going to explode and I didn't want her to lash out before I could intervene. Don't forget how she was roughed up by the Coubert lot last year, she is still on a bit of a short fuse. People were eating so I made sure I kept it quiet and didn’t hit that fellow, he'll have a bit of a sore throat but that's all. I honestly felt a bit sorry for the youngest chap, but it was far better to frighten him to death than clip him one. He was like a jelly as we left as I imagine he has always followed the lead of the older men. Once I'd sorted that aspect he was just a bag of nerves. They will have had to sleep in their car, and one of JP's lads no doubt saw them off early doors. Something about the Brits going abroad isn't there? Apparently most of Wellington's army were plastered at Waterloo.

Anna looked at him as she buttered a second slice of toast and said, You spent time abroad in the army, did you get drunk before going into action?

He chuckled and shook his head, No, never, ever, on active duty. What point is there in dulling your reflexes and judgement when your life could depend on them?

So why have I so often heard of men having a good drink before going into action?

Because some did and they did it because they expected to get hurt.

And you didn’t?

I expected the other man to get hurt.

The quiet statement of fact sent an unexpected chill through her and she turned back to historical matters. So Wellington's men weren't particularly brave because of the drink then?

Drink doesn't make you brave it just makes you care less about things than when you are sober. What made Wellington's men brave was that they had supreme confidence in their General and knew they were being led by a winner, and when you are winning you are a lot less likely to end up dead.

She thought about what he had said, If they were allowed to drink then, why not now?

Because in today's warfare, our soldiers are more than just thoughtless blunt instruments to be wielded in a great, amorphous mass of flesh and blood. They are expected to think for themselves and use their initiative when necessary. That cannot happen if their thoughts are fogged by drink.

There followed another lengthy lull in the conversation before she changed