The Consequences of Fear by Jacqueline Winspear (the best electronic book reader TXT) 📗

“So, Miss Dobbs, now you know how I am armed, where shall we begin, you and I? We find ourselves in an unfortunate situation,because you know so much about me, yet I know almost nothing about you—except that for some reason you knew exactly who Iwas the moment we met, didn’t you?”

“A lucky guess,” said Maisie, then corrected herself. “No, it was more than that. I know a killer when I see one. I’ve hada lot of practice.”

Chaput folded his arms, his head inclined, giving the impression of a relaxed man.

“You’ve taken the lives of two men on British soil, Major Chaput,” said Maisie. “You’ve used the cover of war to claim ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ There was no need—and without doubt no need to involve Hackett.”

“Oh, but there was, Miss Dobbs, there was every need, as you put it. But tell me what you know—it cannot do any harm now, and I’m curious anyway. It will help me become a littlemore vigilant next time—though I confess you are very well connected, which I think helped you in your little investigation.”

Maisie felt her jaw tense.

“All right, Major. Here we go.” She drew a deep breath, and began. “In the last war you were a captain—soon to be promotedto major—and you were encamped close to a local village with a British battalion not terribly far away. However . . . however,for several days there had been an increasing level of disruption among your men. Am I right so far?”

“I’ll complain when you’re wrong,” said Chaput.

“This part is fairly straightforward. In a local estaminet, a fight broke out between some of your men, and when one of themwent for you, a British soldier stepped in. He wasn’t actually trying to help you; more likely he just wanted to have a goat someone because it was in his nature. But he saved you, didn’t he, and managed to get a swipe across his cheek with a knifein the process?”

“It was toward the end of the war, and my men were becoming disillusioned. As were the British and the Germans. But that cutgave my savior the permanent ticket home he wanted, so it wasn’t all that bad for him.” Chaput glanced at his watch. “My timeis precious, so please hurry, Miss Dobbs.”

“Military police broke up the fight, Hackett was removed to a dressing station and you shook his hand as he was stretcheredaway. You thought you would never see him again.”

“Hoped I’d never see him again—dissent is a danger to everyone on the battlefield, and I’d heard one of the British military police telling him to get out, and he refused, so I know he was no better than the worst of my men.”

“Which brings us to Claude Payot and his cousin, Thierry Richard, who were with you again in Damascus. What a terrible jobthat must have been, given the way you were ordered to fight, to protect the French mandate against uprisings from a peoplewho were quite able to rule themselves.”

“We were not the only small group with orders that were just a little different from the army.”

“Be that as it may, but Payot goaded you—I know what he did, what his constant provocation led to, and how your men were killedwhen your full attention was compromised by a lesser man who pushed you on when everything told you to pull back, becausedanger lay ahead. You allowed your better judgment to be undermined.”

“The actions of Payot and Richard rendered us vulnerable.”

“They rendered you vulnerable, Major Chaput. The fact that they lived, that subversive actions initiated by Payot led to the death of all butthe three of you, was a thorn in your side—and not only did you blame them, you had to live with yourself, because there wasan element of truth, wasn’t there, in the fact that you had a certain sympathy for the local people?”

“I am a soldier of France—I followed my orders to the letter.”

“Let’s not split hairs.” Maisie cleared her throat. “By chance Hackett ran into you in London—or was he lurking around just in case he saw you in places where the French spent their time, various clubs and so on? He was always in need of money, so instead of just giving him a handout—and therefore admitting to a debt—you had him run the odd errand for you, usually gathering information on where your agents went when they were on their own time in London. Now, my details are a little woolly here, but I would say he kept an eye on Payot for you and marked him as an alcoholic—after all, it takes one to know one. On the night of Payot’s death, Hackett followed him to get him drunk and part him from his money. I think the plan unfolded over several weeks, so during that time Payot believed he had made a friend.”

Maisie shook her head and glanced out of the window before she brought her attention back to Chaput, who was silent, watching her. “It couldn’t go on for too long, this playing out of the line, could it? Hackett was a drunk himself, and time became of the essence. So on the night of the murder, Hackett led Payot to you, to the place where you were waiting. You wanted to make sure Payot paid for what happened in Syria. You wanted him to suffer for making you bear indignities in front of your men—indignities that distracted you. You were the sole keeper of this particular account, and you had the unpaid note. Oh, and you also wanted him out of the way, just in case that history was brought up before your superiors. I know an official report on the Syria debacle had once been tucked away in an old records office in Damascus, before it was lost.” Maisie shook her head. “But where did Hackett go? Did he watch you settle the account? Did he have any