Christelle ran
towards the office of Le Bihan. She had a notebook in hand. She burst into the
office of the inspector, breathless.
Le Bihan looked
surprised. He was not used to see his colleague so upset. He knew her quiet.
« What is
happening to you Christelle? But sit down first. »
She sat down and
put her notebook before her.
« We have got
him Boss, you were right,. »
Le Bihan frowned
and scratched his right ear.
« Okay, but
explain this to me, because now I have no idea what you mean. Calmly and
quietly. »
« I just had
a call from Belfast, a very important information. A freelance journalist who
has worked for years on the unexplained murder of the spouses Flanaghan-Devlin. »
« Ah there
you interest me, but start from the beginning. I guess you have called my
friend in Dublin first … »
Christelle took a
deep breath.
« Yes, a very
nice gentleman that Mr Fitzpatrick. He is retired but he remembered very well
the double murder that had deeply moved a lot of people. He promised me to find
a person who had investigated about it, and… »
She paused for a
moment …
« And, Le
Bihan asked. »
« One hour
ago, my phone rang. In fact I was desperate to get news. I also researched the
internet but I got absolutely nothing. The absolute cold case. I picked up the
phone, and then it was so difficult because someone with a terrible Irish
accent asked me if I was Christelle. I said yes. Then he told me he was a
friend of Neal Fitzgerald and had worked for a long time about the Flanaghan-Devlin
case.»
She stopped . Le
Bihan was really interested.
« Was it a
cop or a private investigator? »
« I don't
know! He refused to give me his name, but he told me he was a former
investigative reporter and he had done this story a personal matter, he was
ready to give me information that would allow us to arrest the person whom he
thought that he was a serial killer. »
Le Bihan was a
little annoyed and felt that Christelle was beating around the bush.
« Come to the
point Christelle. Tell me everything because I feel that time is running. »
Christelle knew
the legendary impatience of her boss and she went on:
« When the
couple Flanaghan-Devlin was murdered, the police didn’t make much effort to
find the killers. It was in wartime and it seemed to be an extra-legal
execution of British or Protestant services. But some journalists have
conducted their own investigation, Irish Catholics of course, but also English
journalists who were horrified by this story. The official investigation has
not produced results, of course, but what journalists found is amazing. Listen
carefully Boss. »
« I am
listening, Christelle. »
« They
tracked the killers - remember there was a commando of two people, a killer and
a biker, I'll spare you the details, dressed in black on an unidentified
motorcycle found completely burned a few days later in a dump, no trace of
anything but a detail, however, had not escaped the sagacity of the senior
reporter who led the investigation. »
« So what, Le
Bihan asked. »
« Years
later, a RUC officer was found dead at his home, killed by a bullet in the
head. The assassin had been disturbed in his Action because he didn't have time
to make a major detail disappear. »
She paused for a
moment.
« The RUC
officer must have felt threatened and he had time to send a text message with
the name of his murderer. I'll spare you the details. Nothing was clear. The
name has been disclosed. It was some Dimitri Macmillan. »
« Well, I
guess they found and arrested him. »
« Not at all,
Boss, because Dimitri Macmillan has never existed. It was a pseudonym of a
special agent of the British Secret Service. »
« Yes, but
why did he decide to kill the person who was probably his former accomplice,
the driver I guess. And when was the murder? »
« My contact
told me that this story was not clear that the RUC officer whose he did not
tell me the name was a homosexual and that Dimitri Macmillan was absolutely
homophobic. But he was not only homophobic, this guy has concentrated all the
hatreds, anti-Irish, anti-gay, anti-black, anti-Arab etc... This murder took
place eight years ago. In fact, the agent of the RUC was full of regrets. He
had approached a journalist who had investigated the Flanaghan-Devlin case. He
wanted to make public the details of the murder of Patrick Flanaghan’s parents.
»
Le Bihan looked at
his watch. Christelle felt she had to be faster.
« I will type
a full report on all this , but the main problem was finding who was that
Macmillan … »
Le Bihan seemed
rather puzzled.
« How does
this relate our affair apart from the murder of the spouses-Flanaghan Devlin. »?
« More than
you think Boss! My contact gave me some details about the criminal career of
this person. Macmillan actually worked for the British Services, but they
obviously don’t recognize it. He doesn't appear on payslips and was therefore
one of those people whose salaries are paid with secret funds. We tracked him
to Singapore under another name but what is troubling is his involvement in a
strange murder in Thailand just before the tsunami. »
« Tell me
more, Christelle!»
« Well, he
would have killed young prostitutes in Bangkok in circumstances that are
reminiscent of the murder of Mirella Romanescu. »
« Ok,
interrupted Le Bihan, nothing on the British side? Because I suppose you have
questioned on this side too. »
« Yes , but
they themselves are faced with _ secret. This Macmillan or perceived as left
few tangible traces. »
Le Bihan was
nervous now :
« Finally,
what’s the point ? »
Christelle stared
at him. She had the answer.
« Boss, you
will have the full report tomorrow, but I have the real name of Macmillan. »
Le Bihan smiled, an
enormous smile. He was ready to hug his colleague.
Christelle was
enjoying her triumph and made the pleasure last.
"In fact,
Macmillan lives in Larmor, he is a well known British businessman … »
Le Bihan was going
through all the colors of the rainbow.
She went on.
« Mister
Chris Lewis… »
She didn’t have
time enough to finish. Le Bihan interrupted her again.
« I guess you
are joking ? »
« No Boss,
absolutely not. It is indeed Chris Lewis! »
Le Bihan was
stunned by the information.
« But, do you
realize ? Ok I call the Mais tu te rends compte. Ok I call the prosecutor
and we go. »
The color of his
face had gone from white to diaphanous.
He passed a call.
Probably to the Prosecutor of the Republic. Then he said to his colleague:
« We have the
green light, we go. A car and a combi. Inform the Crime Brigade, we need them.
Bulletproof vests and weapons. It's not a joke, serious thing. »
He opened a
cupboard and took his holster and Sig Sauer.
« You do the
same, Christelle, we are not dealing with an angel. Shoot first and ask
questions later. »
A few minutes
later, sirens blaring they were en route to Larmor-Plage.
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