Read Online Bright Angel by Isabelle Merlin - Free Book Online

pads waiters use, the sort with a kind of pen.
    We stared at each other. I thought, well, he doesn’t look like a car thief. More like a kind of journalist. The gossip magazine sort, looking for dirt to dish on famous people. I said, sharply, ‘Que voulez-vous?’
    I’d been proud of myself for bringing the stern question (what do you want?) out word-perfect. But his eyes widened. He said, in perfect English, ‘You are Australian?’
    â€˜Yeah. So? What’s that got to do with anything?’ I said crossly. Was my accent so bad I was picked as an Aussie so easily?
    â€˜Sorry – I didn’t mean...’ He rubbed at his hair. He looked embarrassed. ‘I suppose you must think me weird, poking around like this.’
    I said, ‘Mmm.’
    â€˜It’s not what it looks like,’ he said. ‘I was just making some, some notes.’
    â€˜Oh yeah?’ Then it struck me, that faint accent. ‘Hey, you’re Australian too, aren’t you?’
    He grinned. ‘Yup. Well anyway, I was born there. But I moved to France with my mother when I was fifteen.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    â€˜And I’m not doing anything wrong, I assure you. I was just, well, following up a report.’
    â€˜I guessed,’ I said. ‘You’re a journalist. What magazine are you from? Are you writing about the film? About Marc?’
    â€˜Eh?’ he said, sounding baffled. ‘Who’s Marc? What film? I was just wondering why all these cars were here. I thought the place would be deserted and I could easily find the traces.’ He saw my expression and smiled. ‘See, I’m an IPN.’ The eyes behind the glasses suddenly twinkled. ‘And I’m doing freelance work for GEIPAN.’
    â€˜I have no idea what you’re talking about!’ Strangely, I was beginning to like this guy. He looked like a nerd and he spoke a bit like one too, but he seemed nice. I felt comfortable with him, though I’d only just met him. Quite unlike with Daniel. Anyway, by now I was really curious as to what he was doing there skulking around, if he had nothing to do with the film. Mum’s always telling me I’m a total fearless stickybeak and I should be careful, but I can’t help it. I was born that way. I like to know things, to find out stuff about people.
    â€˜An IPN is an Intervenant du Premier Niveau, or a frontline investigator, if you like,’ he said, ‘and GEIPAN stands for Groupe d’Etudes et D’Informations sur les Phenomenes Aerospaciaux Nonidentifies.’ He spelt it out, grinning broadly at my utter bemusement. ‘That’s G-E-I-P-A-N. Literally, it means Group of Studies and Information on Unidentified Aerospatial Phenomena. Or as they used to be called, Unidentified Flying Objects. UFOs.’
    I goggled at him, completely dumbstruck. Had I suddenly fallen into an episode of Dr Who, or something?
    â€˜Don’t look so worried,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m not a loony. GEIPAN is a respectable scientific organisation, part of the official French space research centre. It investigates all reported cases of UFOs in France. It’s been going since the 1970s. Look it up. You’ll see it’s for real. I’ll give you the website address if you like.’
    â€˜But UFOs – you mean – they – you – really take them seriously? Aliens and little green men and stuff like that? How can scientists–’
    â€˜Never mind the little green men and stuff,’ he said. ‘UFOS – or PANs, as we call them in our business – they’re real enough. They’re just things people see in the sky. In the old days, people used to think they were gods in fiery chariots, or bright angels, that sort of thing. Now people tend to think of alien spaceships. Mostly, we can explain them – they can be natural phenomena – you know, lightning, northern lights, effects of mist