Fatale - Jean-Patrick Manchette [26]
“I have a flat,” she said to Lorque, pointing to the deflated tire. “Could you take me back to town?”
Lorque helped her put the Raleigh in the roomy trunk of the Mercedes. He got back behind the wheel and Aimée sat beside him in the passenger seat. The man’s lips were tight, his glance distracted. He started the car fairly gently, then accelerated.
“Don’t go too fast,” said Aimée. “I am not what I seem to be. I have a proposal for you, one that will surprise you. Between now and when we get to Bléville, you have to hear me out, and you have to answer me yes or no.”
A few moments later, Lorque parked the Mercedes behind the fish market on a dirty deserted street because he and Aimée had not finished their discussion. Night had come. Cats ran among piles of empty shells. Inside the car, Lorque and Aimée talked and sat in silence by turns. At one point Lorque covered his face with both hands and it seemed as if Aimée had spoken sharply to him. At another moment he burst out laughing, but his laughter appeared to be bitter.
“You might be in cahoots with the baron,” said Lorque at one juncture.
“That’s a risk you must take.”
“It is indeed a risk.”
“My friends are also taking a risk,” said Aimée.
“Do I know these friends of yours? Have I ever met them?”
Aimée shook her head. “You have never seen them. And you never will.”
“I have to think this over for a few hours,” said Lorque. “I’ll telephone you tonight.”
“On the phone,” said Aimée, “just say yes or no. Three hours after your call, I’ll meet you here. The problem will have been taken care of. I’ll give you the documents that concern you. You will have deposited the forty thousand francs in the self-service locker. You will give me the key to the locker.”
“It would be simpler if—”
“No discussion,” ordered Aimée.
“It’s a large sum,” said Lorque. Aimée made no reply. She stared straight ahead through the windshield. Lorque shrugged. “Very well,” he said, turning towards the young woman. “But I’ll need some proof that the problem really has been taken care of. How am I to know—”
“A Polaroid print,” said Aimée. “Would that do?”
“That will do.”
Aimée consulted her watch. Seven ten. The guns and ammo stores would be closing soon. She turned a placid face to Lorque.
“Fine,” she said, to end the conversation.
“I am flabbergasted,” said Lorque, smiling almost despite himself. “I can’t believe my ears, honestly. I had found you strange, but this...no. I’m still not quite sure it’s real. I’m going to need an hour or two to decide whether it’s real or not.”
“It’s real,” said Aimée. “My proposal is real. Everything is perfectly real.”
Lorque grabbed Aimée’s wrist and looked intensely into her eyes. He was half sneering, despite himself. With his other hand he clasped the nape of her neck, pulling the young woman towards him and giving her a breathless kiss. She let herself be kissed. His mouth was warm. Then she pulled away.
“That’s enough,” she said.
“You excite me,” said Lorque. “Are you going to disappear afterwards? Yes, of course you are. You should—” He broke off. “I could—” He broke off a second time, gesturing vaguely.
“No, out of the question,” said Aimée as she opened the car door.
Lorque did not help her get the bicycle out of the trunk. As soon as she closed it, he started the engine and put his lights on. The Mercedes drew away silently and disappeared. Aimée got her pump and reinflated the rear tire. At about seven thirty she visited a hunting and fishing store in the center of Bléville. There she bought a supply of 12-gauge large-shot ammunition.
Thereafter, Aimée made calls on people in various parts of town and negotiated with them until late that night. As a rule, the young woman had found that she was