Free Citadel by Kate Mosse Page B

swallowed a belch, then poured himself another drink. Robert frowned at his brother and sat back heavily in his creaking chair.
    ‘You’re sure the girl didn’t say anything?’ Coursan said. His voice was casual, though Raoul sensed the keen interest behind his words.
    ‘Not really, nothing that made sense. Nothing about Antoine.’ He felt the tension tighten another notch. He looked at everyone’s faces, seeing nothing unusual, nothing different in any expression, but he was regretting bringing it up all the same. ‘Look, I don’t know where Antoine is, but I’m sure the girl just happened to be there. Bad luck, good luck, however you want to look at it. She saw the chain, picked it up, end of story.’
    ‘Except for the fact the girl was half drowned,’ said César. ‘Except for the fact Antoine should be here, and isn’t.’ He turned on Coursan. ‘And Laval isn’t here either, come to that? Where is he, Coursan?’
    ‘He’ll be here.’
    Downstairs, the door to the street slammed. Everybody stopped talking, listening to the footsteps coming up the stairs. The door swung open. Raoul sighed, realising he’d been holding his breath.
    It wasn’t Antoine.
    ‘Christ, Laval,’ muttered Gaston. ‘Give us all a heart attack.’
    Raoul hadn’t previously met Coursan’s second-in-command, Sylvère Laval, though he recognised him from César’s description. He had the look of a musician, black trousers and shirt, hair slicked back. His eyes were sharp with smoke and drink and late nights. Like Coursan, he had five or six days’ growth on his chin.
    Laval nodded at Coursan, then sat down beside Gaston.
    ‘We have – might have – a problem,’ Coursan said. ‘Déjean’s not shown up and Pelletier has been telling us how he fished a girl out of the river earlier this morning. She was holding Déjean’s chain.’
    Raoul saw a look pass between the two men. Again he glanced at César, but he was still examining the necklace and didn’t meet his eye.
    ‘Why was Pelletier at the river?’ Laval asked.
    ‘On my way here,’ Raoul replied, irritated to be talked about as if he wasn’t in the room.
    César stood up. ‘I’m going to check Antoine’s flat, see if he’s there.’
    ‘Sit down, Sanchez,’ Coursan said mildly.
    ‘He’s probably in bed nursing a hangover,’ said Gaston.
    ‘He’s not a drinker.’
    ‘Everyone’s a drinker,’ said Gaston, swallowing another belch.
    ‘I’m not sitting here doing nothing,’ César said, ‘when Antoine might be in trouble.’
    ‘Sit down,’ Coursan repeated.
    He didn’t raise his voice, but the authority in it was clear all the same. To Raoul’s surprise, César did what he was told. Robert poured a glass of Pastis and pushed it across the table to him. César added water and downed it in one.
    ‘Did the girl say anything?’ Laval asked Coursan.
    ‘As I said,’ Raoul replied, ‘she was unconscious. She didn’t do or say anything.’
    Laval was looking at Raoul, but still addressing himself to Coursan.
    ‘What do you want to do?’
    Coursan drummed his fingers on the table for a moment. ‘If Antoine’s been arrested, we need to know. It could affect things tomorrow. César, why not check his apartment? If he’s there, leave a message in the usual way, behind the bar in the café downstairs.’
    ‘And if not?’
    ‘Our priority is tomorrow.’
    ‘Right,’ said Gaston, giving a mock salute.
    ‘Is everyone clear about what they’re doing?’
    Raoul and Robert nodded. César didn’t respond.
    ‘Laval?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘In which case,’ Coursan continued, ‘meet at the Café Saillan at eight tomorrow morning.’ He looked at César. ‘You’ll bring the leaflets there?’
    César still didn’t answer.
    ‘Sanchez?’ snapped Laval.
    César stared at him, then gave a sharp nod and stood up.
    ‘I always deliver what I promise.’ He swept his tobacco and matches from the table and walked out of the room.
    Raoul looked at Coursan,