care of the evidence.’

‘Evidence will not be easy to come by, not in a small town like this where most

of the people think these European laws are quite mad,’ Bruno said reasonably,

shrugging off the insults. In time Duroc would discover how much he needed

Bruno’s local knowledge and, for his own good, he would have to cultivate the

patience to teach his superior. ‘The people round here tend to be very loyal to

one another, at least in the face of outsiders,’ he continued. ‘They won’t talk

to you – at least, not if you go round hauling them in for tough questioning.’

Duroc made to interrupt, but Bruno rose, raised his hand to demand silence, and

strolled across to the window.

‘Look out there, my dear Capitaine, and let us think this through like

reasonable men. Look at that scene: the river, those cliffs tumbling down to the

willows where fishermen sit for hours. Look at the old stone bridge built by

Napoleon himself, and the square with the tables under the old church tower.

It’s a scene made for the TV cameras. They come and film here quite often, you

know. From Paris. Foreign TV as well, sometimes. It’s the image of France that

we like to show off, the France we’re proud of, and I’d hate to be the man who

got blamed for spoiling it. If we do as you suggest, if we go in all

heavy-handed and round up kids on suspicion, we’ll have the whole town round our

ears.’

‘What do you mean, kids?’ said Duroc, his brows knitted. ‘It’s the market types

doing this stuff, grown-ups.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Bruno said slowly. ‘You ask for my local knowledge, and I’m

pretty sure that a few kids are doing this. And if you start hauling in kids,

you know what the outcome will be. Angry parents, protest marches,

demonstrations outside the Gendarmerie. The teachers will probably go on strike

in sympathy and the Mayor will have to take their side and back the parents. The

press will descend, looking to embarrass the government, and the TV cameras will

film newsworthy scenes of the heartland of France in revolt. It’s a natural

story for them – brutal police bullying children and oppressing good French

citizens who are trying to protect their way of life against those heartless

bureaucrats in Brussels. You know what the media are like. And then all of a

sudden the Prefect would forget that he ever gave you any orders and your chief

back in Paris would be unavailable and your career would be over.’

He turned back to Duroc, who was suddenly looking rather thoughtful, and said,

‘And you want to risk all that mess just to arrest a couple of kids that you

can’t even take to court because they’d be too young?’

‘Kids, you say?’

‘Kids,’ repeated Bruno. He hoped this wouldn’t take too much longer. He had to

do those amendments to the contract for the public fireworks for the Fourteenth

of July, and he was due at the tennis club at six p.m.

‘I know the kids in this town very well,’ he went on. ‘I teach them rugby and

tennis and watch them grow up to play in the town teams. I’m pretty sure it’s

kids behind this, probably egged on by their parents, but still just kids.

There’ll be no arrests out of this, no examples of French justice to parade

before Brussels. Just a very angry town and a lot of embarrassment for you.’

He walked across to the cupboard and took out two glasses and an ancient bottle.

‘May I offer you a glass of my vin de noix, Capitaine? One of the many pleasures

of this little corner of France. I make it myself. I hope you’ll share a small

aperitif in the name of our cooperation.’ He poured two healthy tots and handed

one to Duroc. ‘Now,’ he went on, ‘I have a small idea that might help us avoid

this unpleasantness.’

The Captain looked dubious, but his face had returned to a normal colour.

Grudgingly he took the glass.

‘Unless, of course, you want me to bring in the Mayor, and you can make your

case to him,’ Bruno said. ‘And I suppose he could order me to bring in these

children, but what with the parents being voters, and the elections on the

horizon …’ He shrugged eloquently.

‘You said you had an idea.’ Duroc sniffed at his glass and took a small but

evidently appreciative sip.

‘Well, if I’m right and it’s just some kids playing pranks, I could talk to them

myself – and have a quiet word with the parents – and we can probably nip this

thing in the bud. You can report back that it was a couple of underage kids and

the matter has been dealt with. No fuss, no press, no TV. No nasty questions to

your minister back in Paris.’

There was a long pause as the Captain stared hard at Bruno, then looked out of

the window and took another thoughtful sip of his drink.

‘Good stuff this. You make it yourself, you say?’ He sipped again. ‘I must

introduce you to some of the Calvados I brought down with me from Normandy.

Maybe you’re right. No point stirring everything up if it’s just some kids, just

so long as no more tyres get slashed. Still, I’d better report something back to

the Prefect tomorrow.’

Bruno said nothing, but smiled politely and raised his glass, hoping the

inspectors had not yet found the potato.