was running out.
Moments later a third shot rang out and then Marner emerged from the alley, blinking in the sudden light, holstered his pistol and strode away.
Chapter Eight
His first action on arriving at his office the following morning was to call Lemele. She gave only brief “no” responses to his questions regarding progress in her enquiries and whether she felt that she was being followed or watched. Realising that this was going to be another one-sided conversation, he switched track and told her that he needed to know if a body shot dead in an alley way off Rue Saint Jacques had been identified yet. Lemele agreed that she would make enquiries and let him know, asked if he knew the date and time that it had been discovered. Marner told her that maybe it had not even been found yet. He hung up quickly, grinning to himself, before she could register her confusion at his cryptic response.
Leaning back to stare out of his office window at the view of the tops of the trees on Foch, Marner contemplated what he knew. This amounted to almost nothing. He had the involvement of the Carlingue and now the mystery of the man who had followed him yesterday. Whoever it was, Carlingue or not, what most concerned Marner was the question of how they had picked up on him so quickly. As of yesterday afternoon he had been investigating this case for a little over twenty four hours and had spoken to very few people about it. His visit to the prefecture had been unannounced and he had only spoken to Lemele. One possibility was that they had still been watching the crime scene or Schull’s hotel and had followed him afterwards. Possibly someone within the SD, the Kriegsmarine or the French police had informed them of his involvement. Whoever ‘them’ was.
He was aware of the extent of the corruption and the web of illicit links between the German and French security organisations. To enjoy their favoured position and power, the Carlingue were kicking back a proportion of their profits into the Gestapo and police but, even so, to follow an SS officer spoke of boldness or recklessness.
Until he obtained an identification of whoever it was that he had killed, or some photos that he could show Pichon, Marner had nothing more than a small collection of dead-ends regarding the identity of Schull’s murderer. Which left him with just one option and that was to follow the trail that Schull had been following. Due to the fact that Schull had left behind no notes or clues regarding his line of investigation or findings, Marner had to assume that it was the submarine transports.
A call to Hoffman elicited no response, his assistant stating only that Hoffman was busy in meetings and could not even define when he might be free. Marner’s frustration translated itself into a need to do something, anything, even if just to provoke a reaction and therefore he decided to make another visit to Kriegsmarine.
Under no urgency to be there at an allotted time he elected to walk, which would both burn some pent up energy and also permit Paris to sooth his nerves. Exiting the building onto Foch, he moved immediately out onto the central avenue and set off towards the Arc. The view of the avenue from here at the west end soothed him as it always did, its wide panorama stretching away in a near parody of artistic perspective that even a cultural philistine like him could appreciate. He passed the junction of Rue Pergolese which swerved off at an acute angle from Foch, on the corner of which was his favourite building, a sharp wedge of a building on the sliver of land there. Only four storeys high, it was dwarfed by its neighbours. What made it special was the balconied terrace ten metres high atop the end of the ground level, jutting out into the small corner garden. This gave the distinct impression of it being the prow of a grand ocean going ship, with its steel railings around the edge of
Moments later a third shot rang out and then Marner emerged from the alley, blinking in the sudden light, holstered his pistol and strode away.
Chapter Eight
His first action on arriving at his office the following morning was to call Lemele. She gave only brief “no” responses to his questions regarding progress in her enquiries and whether she felt that she was being followed or watched. Realising that this was going to be another one-sided conversation, he switched track and told her that he needed to know if a body shot dead in an alley way off Rue Saint Jacques had been identified yet. Lemele agreed that she would make enquiries and let him know, asked if he knew the date and time that it had been discovered. Marner told her that maybe it had not even been found yet. He hung up quickly, grinning to himself, before she could register her confusion at his cryptic response.
Leaning back to stare out of his office window at the view of the tops of the trees on Foch, Marner contemplated what he knew. This amounted to almost nothing. He had the involvement of the Carlingue and now the mystery of the man who had followed him yesterday. Whoever it was, Carlingue or not, what most concerned Marner was the question of how they had picked up on him so quickly. As of yesterday afternoon he had been investigating this case for a little over twenty four hours and had spoken to very few people about it. His visit to the prefecture had been unannounced and he had only spoken to Lemele. One possibility was that they had still been watching the crime scene or Schull’s hotel and had followed him afterwards. Possibly someone within the SD, the Kriegsmarine or the French police had informed them of his involvement. Whoever ‘them’ was.
He was aware of the extent of the corruption and the web of illicit links between the German and French security organisations. To enjoy their favoured position and power, the Carlingue were kicking back a proportion of their profits into the Gestapo and police but, even so, to follow an SS officer spoke of boldness or recklessness.
Until he obtained an identification of whoever it was that he had killed, or some photos that he could show Pichon, Marner had nothing more than a small collection of dead-ends regarding the identity of Schull’s murderer. Which left him with just one option and that was to follow the trail that Schull had been following. Due to the fact that Schull had left behind no notes or clues regarding his line of investigation or findings, Marner had to assume that it was the submarine transports.
A call to Hoffman elicited no response, his assistant stating only that Hoffman was busy in meetings and could not even define when he might be free. Marner’s frustration translated itself into a need to do something, anything, even if just to provoke a reaction and therefore he decided to make another visit to Kriegsmarine.
Under no urgency to be there at an allotted time he elected to walk, which would both burn some pent up energy and also permit Paris to sooth his nerves. Exiting the building onto Foch, he moved immediately out onto the central avenue and set off towards the Arc. The view of the avenue from here at the west end soothed him as it always did, its wide panorama stretching away in a near parody of artistic perspective that even a cultural philistine like him could appreciate. He passed the junction of Rue Pergolese which swerved off at an acute angle from Foch, on the corner of which was his favourite building, a sharp wedge of a building on the sliver of land there. Only four storeys high, it was dwarfed by its neighbours. What made it special was the balconied terrace ten metres high atop the end of the ground level, jutting out into the small corner garden. This gave the distinct impression of it being the prow of a grand ocean going ship, with its steel railings around the edge of
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