Free The Resistance Man (Bruno Chief of Police 6) by Martin Walker Page B

take up golf.’
    ‘It takes too long. And we have a perfectly good gym at the Ministry. My leg is almost healed and I have this plan to jog to Place Beauvau every morning, hit the gym and shower. I have my own locker so I can keep clothes there.’
    That was Isabelle, always planning, always with some project. ‘You always wear the same clothes anyway. Everything black.’
    ‘When you first saw me I was wearing jeans and that brown leather jacket.’ She grinned back at him.
    ‘I liked you best when you used one of my shirts as a dressing gown,’ he said, and she slapped his wrist in mock reproof.
    ‘Those days are over.’ She paused, giving Bruno time to absorb this. Then she made her face serious, one of her sudden switches of mood that often left him floundering. ‘How’s your Englishwoman?’
    ‘She always wears the same things, too. Riding breeches mostly, and wellington boots.’ A memory came to him of Pamela in a long green evening dress, her hair piled high.
    ‘You smell a little horsy. I like it, very masculine.’ Her tone changed as if she were changing gear. ‘Do you have any leads on these burglars? The Brigadier really wants it cleared up.’
    ‘Crimson’s been retired for two or three years now. Is he still so important?’
    ‘Guys like that never really retire. He’s a consultant now with the Hakluyt Group, filled with ex-SIS types and charging big corporations fat fees for risk assessment. At least, that’s what they say they do, but in that world who knows? Do you know him?’
    ‘He’s a good friend of the tennis club and he comes to the rugby games when he’s here in winter. He’s friendly to everybody and I’ve been invited to the house a couple of times.’
    ‘Who were the other guests?’
    ‘At the garden party it was a couple of local mayors, a bank manager, Hugo from the wine cave and lots of expats, mostly retired British diplomats and a couple of writers. At dinner it was the same mix but a smaller group. Oh, and the local deputy to the
Assemblée Nationale
.’
    ‘Any Americans?’ she asked, a little too casually. He looked at her.
    ‘Not that I recall. There aren’t many around here. Why do you ask?’
    She shrugged. ‘Just wondering how retired he really is. Apparently he was having some pretty high-level meetings while he was in Washington.’
    They were in a garden now and he saw that the lawn had been mowed, but not recently. ‘If I’m going to focus on the burglary I need to check on the gardener and see who might have known Crimson would be away.’
    He explained why he thought it was one gang, and that they knew their antiques. Bruno could search criminal records but Isabelle would have access to much broader archives that would include suspected dealers who were too careful to have ever been caught. It would be useful to have that list, particularly if there were any local connections.
    ‘How long are you here?’ he asked.
    ‘At least until Crimson gets home and settled in. Maybe we could find time for dinner. And I want to see our puppy.’ Balzac had been her gift to him after his previous dog was shot by a Basque terrorist.
    ‘Come to dinner. You can see the puppy and tell me what your plans are if the government changes with the next election.’
    He said it lightly, but Bruno did not have to spell out his meaning. The Interior Ministry was always controversial, but there had been more and more scandals in recent months, over the wire-tapping of journalists, over some alleged cover-up of campaign finance from a rich industrialist’s widow, and above all over a new department of the Ministry, the
Direction Centrale des Renseignements Intérieurs
. Combining the old police intelligence operation with counter-espionage and anti-terrorism, it had become a very powerful arm of the state. Critics,including the opposition parties, called it sinister and suggested its boss had become the President’s private spy. If he lost the forthcoming election, the new