The Last Judgement

She heard Janet’s gasp as it swung open to reveal the scene inside. Rouxel was dying, tormented by agony but bearing the pain with dignity. On the floor beside him was a phial that had dropped from his hand. It took little intelligence to realize it had contained poison: the insect-killer he had been using on his plants when Flavia and Argyll had arrived. His skin was pale and his hand, clenched into a fist, hung loosely towards the ground.

It was his face, though, that grabbed the attention. The eyes were open and glazed, but it had a dignity and tranquillity. It was the face of someone who knew he would be mourned.

Janet stood still to take in the scene, then swung round on Flavia with sudden anguish. ‘You knew,’ he yelled at her. ‘Damn you. You knew he would do this.’

She shrugged indifferently.

‘I had no proof,’ she said.

Then turned to go.

20

‘Dear me,’ said Bottando. ‘What a mess. What was this evidence after all that?’

‘A couple of photographs and some notes slipped between the canvas and the lining. Hartung must have suspected so he had Rouxel followed. The man witnessed and noted down Rouxel’s movements. Including a late-night visit to a German army headquarters and a meeting in a café with Schmidt.’

‘And you let Rouxel kill himself? That, if I may say so, was unusually callous. Are you becoming an angel of vengeance in your old age?’

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t know he’d do that. Really, I didn’t. But I can’t say I was so upset. It was the best thing that could have happened. In a way Hartung was heroic. He knew Muller was not his son; his reference in that letter to the foster-parents suggests that. But he stuck by his wife in 1940 when he could have escaped. And he continued to encourage Rouxel despite the affair.’

‘I don’t know whether to congratulate you or not,’ he said.

‘Frankly, I’d rather you didn’t,’ she said. ‘This has been a nightmare from beginning to end. All I want to do is forget it.’

‘Difficult. The reverberations will go on for some time, I’m afraid. On the one hand we’re now exceedingly unpopular with Intelligence. Relations with poor old Janet will take some considerable time to repair themselves. And, of course, Fabriano will never talk to you again.’

‘Every cloud has a silver lining.’

‘Still, I feel sorry for him. He’s not going to get much credit for this, even though we will have to keep our nose out. More to the point, it’s been such a nasty case we’re not going to get a great deal of applause either. And I’m sure this has been simply awful for Janet as well. You saw the papers?’

She nodded. ‘I gather they’re going to go the whole hog. A massive funeral. President of the Republic in attendance. Medals on the coffin. I can’t say that I could bring myself to read it.’

‘I suppose not. So, my dear. Back to work? Shall we try to pretend again that you take orders from me?’

She smiled at him. ‘Not today. I’m taking the afternoon off. Domestic crisis. And first I’ve got to write a letter. Which I’m not looking forward to.’

It was surprisingly easy to write it, once she’d got started. But deciding what line to take took nearly an hour of beginning, crossing out, starting again and staring out of the window indecisively.

Then she just emptied her mind and wrote.

Dear Mrs Richards,

I hope you will forgive me for writing, rather than coming to see you in person, to tell you of the outcome of our meeting.

As you may have seen in the newspapers, Jean Rouxel died peacefully in his sleep a few days ago, and will shortly be buried with full honours as befits a man who served his country well. His contributions to France, and indeed to Europe, were immense in almost every field — industrial, diplomatic and political. His courage and vision were an example to an entire generation. They will now continue to inspire others in generations to come.

I was able to talk to him briefly before he died. He told me what you had meant to him, and described the actions he had taken to save you. His feelings for you were unchanged despite the passing of the years, and he had never forgotten you.

I hope you find these words of some comfort.

You suffered enormously, but your sacrifice protected a man who, through your courage, was able to go on and make an enormous contribution to his country. And, at the last, your intervention allowed him to die as he deserved.

With very best wishes,

Flavia di Stefano

She reread the letter, thought carefully, then put it in an envelope and sent it off to be posted. Then she picked up her bag and left, glancing at her watch as she closed the office door.

The appointment to see their new apartment was at three, and she was going to be late. As usual.