The Day of the Jackal

Sitting at the back of a smoky dive for a cheap lunch, he started to wonder where he was going to spend the night: He had few doubts that Lebel would have exposed Pastor Per Jensen by this time, and he gave Marty Schulberg no more than twenty-four hours.

«Damn that man Lebel,» he thought savagely, but smiled broadly at the waitress and said, «Thanks, honey.»

Lebel was back on to Thomas in London at ten o'clock. His request caused Thomas to give a low groan, but he replied courteously enough that he would do everything he could. When the phone went down Thomas summoned the senior inspector who had been on the investigation the previous week.

«All right, sit down,» he said. «The Frenchies have been back on. It seems they've missed him again. Now he's in the centre of Paris, and they suspect he might have another false identity prepared. We can both start as of now ringing round every consulate in London asking for a list of passports of visiting foreigners reported lost or stolen since July 1st. Forget Negroes and Asiatics. Just stick to Caucasians. In each case I want to know the height of the man. Everybody above five feet eight inches is suspect. Get to work.»

The daily meeting at the Ministry in Paris had been brought forward to two in the afternoon.

Lebel's report was delivered in his usual inoffensive monotone, but the reception was icy.

«Damn the man,» exclaimed the Minister halfway through, «he has the luck of the devil!»

'No, Monsieur It Ministre, it hasn't been luck. At least, not all of it. He has been kept constantly informed of our progress at every stage. This is why he left Gap in such a hurry, and why he killed the woman at La Chalonniere and left just before the net closed. Every night I have reported my progress to this meeting. Three times we have been within hours of catching him. This morning it was the arrest of Valmy and my inability to impersonate Valmy on the telephone that caused him to leave where he was and change into another identity. But the first two occasions he was tipped off in the early morning after I had briefed this meeting.»

There was a frigid silence round the table.

«I seem to recall, Commissaire, that this suggestion of yours has been made before,» said the Minister coldly. «I hope you can substantiate it' For answer Lebel lifted a small portable tape-recorder on to the table and pressed the starter button. In the silence of the conference room the conversation tapped from the telephone sounded metallic and harsh. When it finished the whole room stared at the machine on the table. Colonel Saint-Clair had gone ashen grey and his hands trembled slightly as he shuffled his papers together into his folder.

«Whose voice was that?» asked the Minister finally.

Lebel remained silent, Saint-Clair rose slowly, and the eyes of the room swivelled on to him.

«I regret to have to inform you… M. le Ministre… that it was the voice of… a friend of mine. She is staying with me at the present time… Excuse me.»

He left the room to return to the palace and write his resignation. Those in the room stared at their hands in silence.

«Very well, Commissaire.»

The Minister's voice was very quiet. «You may continue.»

Lebel resumed his report, relating his request to Thomas in London to trace every missing passport over the previous fifty days.

«I hope,» he concluded, «to have a short list by this evening of probably no more than one or two who fit the description we already have of the jackal. As soon as I know, I shall ask the countries of origin of these tourists in London who lost their passports to provide photographs of those people, for we can be stare the Jackal will by now look more like his new identity than like either Calthrop or Duggan or Jensen. With luck I should have these photographs by noon tomorrow.»

«For my part,» said the Minister, «I can report on my conversation with President de Gaulle. He has refused point blank to change an item of his itinerary for the future to shield himself from this killer. Frankly, it was to be expected. However, I was able to obtain one concession. The ban on publicity may now be lifted, at least in this respect. The Jackal is now a common murderer. He has slain the Baroness de la Chalonniere in her own home in the course of a burglary of which the objective was her jewellery. He is believed to have fled to Paris and to be hiding here. All right, gentlemen? «That is what will be released for the afternoon papers, at least the last editions. As soon as you are quite certain as to the new identity, or choice of two or three alternative identities, under which he is now masquerading. Commissaire, you are authorised to release that name or those names to the Press. This will enable the morning papers to up-date the story with a new lead.

«When the photograph of the unfortunate tourist who lost his passport in London comes through tomorrow morning you can release it to the evening papers, radio and television for a second update to the murder-hunt story.