The Coldest Case by Martin Walker (mobi reader android txt) 📕

following in Finland’s footsteps into a dangerous witch-hunt that could target many innocent officials

The article went on to explain that on the basis of the Rosenholz files, Finland’s SUPO (security police) had begun to investigate one of the country’s ambassadors, Alpo Rusi, a former adviser to the country’s President Martti Ahtisaari, as a possible Stasi agent. SUPO had judged him to be the Stasi agent called Pekka in the Rosenholz dossier, and Rusi had strenuously denied the charges brought against him. He’d won his case, and then sued the Finnish state for slandering his good name and won again, securing a compensation payment of twenty thousand euros. As a result, the Finnish high court decided that the Rosenholz files were inadequate as proof and that they should remain classified in future.

So why is France now trying once again to obtain these dubious records, whose validity has been publicly questioned, and to what end? Do we seriously wish to inflict on our own public servants the ordeal inflicted on Ambassador Rusi? Do we want to stage our own McCarthy-style witch-hunt when such an act of anti-Communist hysteria is now widely and rightly condemned in the country that suffered it?

‘The key point, Bruno,’ Isabelle said, ‘is that this article is signed by a member of the Constitutional Council, which sounds to me like a shot across the bows from the legal establishment. I’ve already had a couple of worried calls from the Elysée, and the President himself is concerned. On top of that we have French diplomats saying that this is damaging our relations with Germany, and I’m getting some snide remarks from my own German counterparts. This is becoming a very unpleasant political mess.’

‘I sympathize, but I don’t see what I can do about it.’

‘You could try to persuade Jacqueline and Gilles to shut up.’

‘You and I know them well enough to be sure it would have the opposite effect and make them redouble their efforts,’ he replied. ‘And it’s too late.’

‘You may be right, but at least give me warning of any new intervention they’re planning.’

‘I shall. You can do something for me,’ he said. ‘Another of the Belleville orphans, Laurent Loriot, born in the same week as our Henri Bazaine, went to Canada thirty years ago and made good in the wine business. He’s been paying Henri large sums for alleged wine consulting – ten or fifteen grand a year for many years. Could you check with your contacts in Ottawa and Montreal if anything is known about him and his group, Les Vins de Nouvelle France?’

‘I’ll make a call,’ she said. ‘And please keep me informed.’

Bruno sighed and went back to his task of listing all the elderly and handicapped people living in remote locations in the commune who might be at risk from a fire. He had still to check it against separate lists for emergency evacuations drawn up by the medical centre, the pharmacists and the social services. Then there was the list of volunteers who offered to use their cars to pick up people who would not need a special vehicle. His phone rang again.

‘Where are you?’ came the voice of Albert, the chief pompier.

‘In my office at the Mairie. Why?’

‘You ought to be getting some rest,’ Albert said. ‘You’re on watch tonight at Audrix from ten, according to the list you drew up. So where are you going to sleep?’

‘Back at my place.’

‘Forget it, Bruno. Your house is too much at risk and I’m not in a position to drop everything and come to rescue you. You’ll sleep at the Mayor’s house. He’s expecting you, and I mean now. Sweet dreams.’

Bruno shrugged and decided he could make one more call. He phoned the Belleville archives, who’d been helpful before, to inform them that the Henri Zeller he had asked about was supposed to have been dead for three decades.

‘I’ll send you a copy of the death certificate,’ Bruno told the archivist. ‘It was one of two sent from the Belleville Hôtel de Ville to the army to explain why Bazaine and another local young man called Max Morilland would not turn up for military service.’

‘That’s interesting,’ the archivist replied. ‘But this Zeller is the guy who’s supposed to be still alive and the subject of your investigation, is that right?’

‘Correct,’ said Bruno. ‘Zeller was his original name. He changed it to Bazaine when he married a woman with that name who was going to inherit a vineyard. I thought you’d like to know. And we think the man he might have killed was Max Morilland, Henri’s classmate at vocational school. You sent me that email about him.’

‘Wow, I’ve never been involved in anything like this.’ The archivist’s voice was excited. ‘I’d better check this with the last survivor.’

‘Who’s the last survivor?’

‘Sorry, I was thinking aloud,’ the archivist replied. ‘There’s an elderly woman, the last living member of the Mairie staff under the old regime. She is sometimes helpful. A veteran Communist, of course, but she’s seen the light. She’s retired, getting on for eighty and living with her son somewhere near you, a place called Carlux. Do you want her number? She goes by the name of Rosa Luxemburg Delpèche, which is a giveaway to her parents’ politics.’

Bruno nodded. Rosa Luxemburg had been a leader of the German Communists, assassinated at the end of the Great War. He took down Madame Delpèche’s address and phone number, toyed with the idea of driving there at once, less than an hour away, but then thought of Albert’s call. The fire chief was right. Bruno needed some sleep. And he’d see Balzac. He picked up his cap, strolled down to the Mayor’s house, and greeted Balzac who raced from the far end of the garden where Jacqueline was weeding.

‘Bonjour, Bruno, you’re in the spare room,’ Jacqueline said, presenting her cheeks to be kissed after the first flood of Balzac’s welcome had receded. ‘I’ll wake you before ten. I have my orders from Albert along with a set