Sniper's Justice (Caje Cole Book 9) by David Healey (best classic books txt) 📗

home. Instead of continuing on its route, the helicopter flew lower and circled overhead.

“I reckon they were looking for us, after all,” Cole said.

Further confirmation arrived a few minutes later, when a couple of official-looking off-road vehicles came bouncing up the rough road into the valley. Several men and a couple of women got out, all wearing the bright red jackets of the mountain rescue team, known as le Peloton Gendarmerie de Haute Montagne. They gave Cole and Danny water, put new bandages on Cole’s arm, and much to Cole’s embarrassment, wrapped him in a shiny emergency blanket that looked as if it came off a spaceship.

Another blanket was used to cover Hauer’s remains, which Cole had managed to point out to the team.

But there was no return to the lodge just yet. They waited for an hour until yet another vehicle arrived, this one carrying two uniformed gendarmes and two plainclothes men who appeared to be detectives.

The detectives clearly had not expected to be called into the forest that morning, because both wore dress shoes, overcoats, and suits, one with a tie and one without. It was not gear for the outdoors, and neither one seemed too inclined to venture very far from the vehicle. They lifted the blanket long enough to get a good look at Hauer, then one of them put on some gloves and picked up Hauer’s rifle. Eventually, they came back and asked Cole and Danny some questions. Soon, they left Danny alone and focused their attention on Cole.

Cole had already made up his mind that he wasn’t going to try and explain that Hauer had tried to kill them. How could Cole ever prove that? Who would ever believe him?

“I reckon I got confused,” Cole explained, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to come across as a feeble senior citizen. He hunched his shoulders under the blanket to seem more convincing. Never mind the fact that he resembled a rangy old wolf. “The light wasn’t good and I thought he was a stag. My eyes ain’t what they used to be.”

Cole told the detectives that they had gotten lost after being separated from the group of hunters. Cole kept his explanation short, which was easy for him, being naturally a man of few words.

The French gendarmes spoke English fluently. The two detectives, in addition to fluency in English, also had eyes like sharks. They seemed to see right through him, as if they had heard it all before, which they probably had. It was all an accident. One thing for certain—these men were not fools. They asked a lot of questions.

“Did he shoot himself also?”

Cole shrugged. “Maybe when he fell?”

Leaving Cole, the two detectives moved off to one side and conferred, smoking cigarettes and speaking French in low tones, glancing in Cole’s direction from time to time. One of them had taken Hauer’s ID along with Cole’s, then sat in one of the vehicles, relaying the information.

“Are they going to arrest us?” Danny whispered.

“They seem a little hung up on the fact that he’s shot in the back and in the front with two different rifles,” Cole said. “It’s a mite confusing.”

After a while, the detectives tossed away their cigarettes and marched purposefully toward Cole.

“Did you know this man was former Stasi?” they asked. “The German authorities wanted to ask him some questions, it seems. He was a Nazi, perhaps a war criminal, and then a member of the East German Secret Police. He was not what you Americans would call a Boy Scout.”

“News to me, son.”

“We know about you, too. Some important people are very concerned about you. You were here during the war. You helped fight to free France. A war hero.”

“Long time ago,” Cole said.

“Some of us have long memories.” The one who seemed to be the senior detective pointed at Hauer’s body, then looked Cole right in the eye and announced, “Hunting accident.”

Once that was settled, everybody seemed to relax. The senior detective produced a flask and they all had a nip—even Danny.

“Don’t tell your gran,” Cole muttered, already feeling better as the alcohol and the shiny blanket warmed him.

Then the people in the red jackets loaded up Hauer’s body and everybody bundled into the vehicles and drove slowly out of the valley.

Cole glanced back once at the mountain peaks, oddly saddened to see them go.

An ambulance waited to transport Cole to the hospital to be treated for his wounds. The rescue team had bandaged him up, but his arm and shoulder needed more expert medical attention. First, they had some other business to attend to. They gathered in the lodge lobby, near the big fire in the hearth, which helped to warm their chilled bones.

Danny got a hug from Angela, and even a kiss right there in the middle of the lobby. Judging from the red blush that spread across his grandson’s face, Angela had warmed him up plenty.

Hans was also waiting.

“Hans, I’m sorry your rifle got a little banged up,” Cole said.

“My friend, that is the least of anyone’s worries. I am glad that you are all right.”

Hans explained how he had called Colonel Mulholland, who had pulled some strings so that a search-and-rescue operation was finally set into motion.

“I have to thank you, Hans,” Cole said. “It would have been a long walk back from that valley.”

“What in the world happened?”

Cole told the actual story, which was definitely not what he had related to the French police. Hans listened quietly. When Cole had finished, all that Hans said was, “I never trusted that Hauer.”

“I should have listened to you,” Cole admitted. “But it’s all done now. He ain’t going to cause any more trouble.”

“Now, you need to go to the hospital and see to that arm.”

“Oh, it can wait,” Cole said. “Let’s all have some breakfast first.”

Once Cole was back from the hospital and had recuperated for a couple of days, the two old soldiers had one last mission together. They made it alone, leaving Danny