Suddenly a man stepped out from the crowd, limping badly. Norton! He was still holding the stubby little pistol, aimed straight in our direction, his face contorted in a rictus of rage.
Briar stood on my left. O'Flanahan was on my right. Raymonde and Coulter were behind me to one side. Norton aimed his pistol, seeming ready to shoot. He was mumbling. I couldn't hear what he was saying. A woman noticed Norton's levelled pistol and screamed. He jumped at the sound, his face jittery, and the crowd ran away from him in panic.
A blur of metal shot towards Norton from my left, planting itself right into his gun arm with a solid 'thock. Norton screamed in pain, dropping the pistol into the sand.
Jacques Vallin had thrown a knife! He was holding another one, looking ready for anything.
Norton grabbed his arm, his screams turning to whimpers as he bent down desperately to pick up his pistol. Before Norton could reach it, Ives Vallin's big meaty hand clamped down on the inspector's ravaged arm, grabbing his shoulder with the other hand. Lifting the man bodily off the ground, Ives shook him roughly. Norton looked done in.
Most tourists had run away but a large group of men remained, forming a loose circle around us, perhaps curious to see what would happen next.
Ives lowered Norton and we approached cautiously. The long knife was still sticking out of his right arm, blood dripping from the wound. He was barely conscious. I stopped in front of him, Briar hovering protectively. Norton looked up and laughed. It was a pitiful sound. "You again... I know you now. I was wrong earlier when I said it was me in the mirror. He-he-he. I know that now. I figured it out. You almost had me fooled. It wasn't me, it was YOU!"
Listening to him speaking in circles, I was finally convinced Norton was the Shadow-Killer. It had to be him. He had two personalities, one forever chasing the other. Whoever got in his way became the Shadow-Killer to him. No wonder so many of his friends had been killed.
Having spoken those few words with a failing, gasping breath, Norton collapsed weakly in Ives Vallin's arms. In a sudden frenetic move, his left hand shot out, grasping the knife stuck in his right arm. He wrenched it out in a desperate jerk, blood spurting from his wound, trailing after the knife. He twisted out of Ives' grip and jerked his body up, bringing himself to a standing position. Using his last reserves of energy, he stabbed at me with the bloody blade.
Briar, the ever-alert Briar, jumped in between, his hand jabbing out in a frantic attempt to stop the oncoming blow. Norton swerved the knife past Briar's outstretched arm, aiming directly at his chest, instead of mine. Briar swivelled around in a rapid sideways move, barely avoiding injury. His left hand grasped the stabbing knife by the handle, squeezing Norton's hand in an iron grip. In an adrenaline-infused move, Briar jerked the bloody knife out from his ripped shirt, Norton's arm trailing, his hand pinned inside Briar's tense grip.
For a moment, everything froze!
Briar was standing, his arm held high, the blood-covered knife reaching the top of its arc. I glimpsed a light of anger and rage still burning in Norton's eyes, despite his desperate circumstances. I could feel Raymonde's hand on the small of my back and saw O'Flanahan standing to my right, his eyes open and alert.
Then, time clicked back in, and the knife flashed, impelled with tremendous force, as Briar twisted it back down and under, slicing directly into Norton's abdomen and slamming it up, straight into his heart! The flame of life faded from Norton's eyes and, after one final breath, he fell limply to the ground, taking the Shadow-Killer's secrets with him.
Briar released the knife in horror. "My God, what have I done? It all happened so fast. First he tried to stab you, then I stopped him and I... I stabbed him. I couldn't stop myself. I'm sorry. So sorry."
Raymonde patted his back in sympathy. Thankfully, Briar had escaped serious harm. I thought him finished for a moment. He had moved so very fast! So had the Vallins. Everybody had, while I stood around, doing absolutely nothing!
"He was crazy, Briar, nothing could have stopped him. It would have happened sooner or later. At least now, it's over," O'Flanahan said.
I was thankful for Briar saving my life but now a man was dead because of me, even if it was the Shadow-Killer. Perhaps if I had told him what he had wanted to know, things would have turned out differently.
The circle of discontented men had grown to an alarming number. Now with Norton's death, the men became downright unruly and the circle tightened. Some were holding improvised weapons, branches, clubs and shotguns.
"This doesn't look good. You'd better handle this, Sirenne," O'Flanahan said, supportive as ever.
Jacques Vallin stood protectively to my right and Ives towered over my shoulder. The crowd was upon us, several shotguns aimed at our feet. They looked determined.
"It's time for you to leave. You are bringing too much attention to this place," blustered a thickset man. His shotgun inched up, adding a serious threat to his words.
"No one is going to threaten Mr Paul. No one, do you hear? Or you'll have to deal with me, and you all know what I can do," Ives Vallin roared, completely ignoring the shotgun. A knife, thrown with incredible accuracy, planted itself into the sand, inches from the thickset man's feet.
"And me. You all know me too," Jacques warned. The thickset man shifted his feet and retreated back into the anonymity of the crowd, his gun almost slipping from his trembling hands. The crowd had taken a step back, not expecting the aggressive reaction of the Vallin brothers. I used the lull to try and take control of the situation instead of being buffeted by it. I would not remain frozen again. "It's time to calm down and talk this out. Is there one who could step forward and represent the others? A bit of civility could lead us much further than threats and violence, don't you think?"
Many looked away, unwilling to meet my gaze. Another man stepped out from the group. "I'll talk."
He was a tall man, thin, with piercing blue eyes and a bushy moustache.
"Very well. My name is..." I started.
"We don't care who you are. You're just like all the others. We've dealt with your type before. You've been snooping around since you arrived. We've been watching you. We're used to regular tourists, even the Lupin fanatics, but when you had that chase yesterday, we felt it was time to get you to move on. With what we've just seen, a murder this time, on our very beach, we know it's time for you to go. We'll deal with the body. No police. Just pack your bags, leave, and never come back."
They were watching us?
"Why do you want us to move on? Why are we a threat?" I shot back. While the others milled around in indecision, the man explained himself, "We don't like strangers who snoop. This is our town. You come here to stir up trouble. You could destroy everything we have here. We want you to leave."
Well, that was plain enough! However, it didn't explain much, sounding more like dogma than anything. Familiar dogma. "You said you were watching us. How long have you been watching people?"
"Since long before you were born, mister. This is our town and we intend to protect it," he answered.
This was starting to make sense, in a strange sort of way.
"Do you remember when you started protecting your town?" I asked, looking around at each of them "Do any of you? Or are you doing what your parents told you? To protect your town? To keep the Secret? Do you remember what started all this, what started the Net?"
A murmur swept through the crowd. I was on the right track. "You're what's left of the Net aren't you? Doing what your parents did? Not knowing why it had to be done, just that you had to be on the lookout? That's it, isn't it?"
"How do you know all this, Mister? How do you know about us?"
"Allow me to introduce Raymonde Leblanc, Maurice Leblanc's great-granddaughter. Some of you may not know her. She has been living in British Columbia for a while. The reason your Net was created was to protect Maurice Leblanc, her great-grandfather. I suspect you may have forgotten this. So, let me remind you: your parents, and their parents before them, swo
re to protect Etretat's big secret. The Leblanc family held that secret. You are here to protect her."
The man with the moustache resisted. "How do we know you're saying the truth, Mister?"
"What if I said it was the truth? Would you believe me, you bunch of idiots?"
The thin, wheezing voice came from the edge of the beach, barely audible, where a taxi had stopped, disgorging a determined-looking Mrs Leblanc and an older man with two crutches.
Bequilles!
"That's right, you all know what I did in the war, so don't you go questioning me. I know these people and I know why they're here. You idiots couldn't even realize you're not here to kick them out, you're here to protect them. It is a bit my fault because there is something I have told none of you, never thinking the time would actually come: That man there, standing next to Miss Leblanc, is Paul Sirenne! Long, long ago, I was told by Raymond Lindon a man with that name would be coming one day and, on that day, purpose would return to our town. Well, he is right there in front of you. Quite a reception you've given him I must say. I'm too tired and too old for all this nonsense. I'm going home."
Without another word, Bequilles returned to the waiting taxi, heading back to his small apartment. His task was done, thanks to Mrs Leblanc. She was removing her techno-glasses. She had done the one thing she could to help. Her timing could not have been better.
But how could Bequilles have known about me, before I was even born?
By the time Mrs Leblanc made her way to the dock, the crowd's mood had changed completely. People were moving off the beach, letting us join Mrs Leblanc. Several men converged on Norton's body, including the Vallin Brothers. O'Flanahan accompanied the group, eager to be part of a developing conspiracy. Within moments, the crowd had dispersed, as if nothing had taken place.
The man with the moustache walked along with us. "We're really sorry, Mr Sirenne, Miss Leblanc. We just didn't know. We've been watching for so long, we lost track of the most important things. We won't make that mistake again. You can count on us. You do what you have to. We'll keep an eye out for you."
These loyal Etretatais had been given an incredible sense of purpose, to protect something so important it could never be revealed. It had set them apart from everyone else, like a 'country unto itself', as Leblanc had said.
My head spun with the enormity of it all: a single event, distant by a century, was still affecting thousands, perhaps millions of people today. I returned in my mind to when Leblanc and Hitler entered into those caves. That moment had sent ripples out into time, affecting everyone in its path, right up to today, culminating in Norton's death moments ago. A shudder ran up my spine, as I understood the responsibility for these caves was being thrust directly into my hands. Although I had not yet set foot in those caves, I was already irrevocably connected to them.
A band of sweat broke on my brow and I felt faint, thinking of Norton's blood, Leblanc, Hitler, the caves, and Bequilles with my name on his lips.
"Paul, are you all right?" Raymonde asked, noticing my change in demeanour.
I was spinning, my head whirling, buffeted by the events, everything overtaking me. I felt as if my life was spiralling out of control. "I need to sit down. I seem to have lost my bearings," I said. My thoughts continued unravelling and I felt increasingly dizzy.
"Don't worry, I've got you, Mr Paul," Ives said, his strong arm giving me support I suddenly needed.
I was helped to a beach chair, proffered by a concerned man nearby. I sat down and immediately closed my eyes, trying to slow the insane spinning.
"Here's some water," Raymonde said, sliding a water bottle in my left palm. I put it on my forehead for a moment, savouring its coolness. I uncapped the water bottle and took a long drink, keeping my eyes closed, regaining a bit of perspective. I opened my eyes, adjusting to the sunlight.
More than thirty people surrounded me. My friends were nearest, with members of the Net in the background. In the distance, a man with a black bag was running towards us. The amount of concern overwhelmed me yet again and I closed my eyes for another moment.
"Paul? You're scaring me," Raymonde said, her voice thick with emotion.
"I'm okay, I think. I just need a bit of quiet," I answered shakily.
"Make way for the Doctor! The Doctor is here," screamed a bystander.
The crowd parted, allowing the man with the black back to approach.
"There's no need for all this fuss, really," I objected weakly, only to be tut-tutted by the doctor.
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, young man? Hmm? Move back everybody. Give him some room, he needs fresh air."
His hands flew all over, checking my pulse, temperature, eyes, ears, heart, nothing escaped.
"You seem to be suffering from mild shock, young man. Everything should be fine after a good rest. Would you like a tranquiliser?"
"Uhm, no, I don't think so but thank you. There's no need to go to all this trouble," I argued again.
"Listen, young man: if I took the trouble to come here this fast, you can certainly take the trouble of following my orders. You get some rest. Let things sort themselves for a while."
The doctor gave my shoulder a quick pat and snapped his black bag shut.
"It's all over folks. He's fine. He'll be up and around in no time."
***
I was lying on Raymonde's bed, resting as ordered. My friends had stayed for a while but eventually opted for the restaurant. Everyone was slightly uncomfortable, especially around Briar. Raymonde entered. "Are you up for some company?" she asked.
"Sure. I'm feeling much better now. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare anybody."
"I know. It's okay," she said, as she sat on the bed.
"It all happened so fast. Norton attacked and he, uhm, he died, and the Net confronted us. After Bequilles mentioned my name, I was standing there, my thoughts rolling around Leblanc and Hitler going into those caves. That's what started it, I think. That single event caused a huge impact on the entire world and nobody even knows! Hitler's actions in World War 2 are directly related to these caves. My entire family's history, my father's murder, is all due to Leblanc and his plans to leave a heritage. A killer is now dead because of us. My name is not even my name, it's Lupin. Bequilles said my arrival was foretold decades before I was even born. Everything around me was connected to these caves, even you. And now, it was my life being affected by these caves. I had nothing to hold on to, nothing that was mine. It was all for the caves."
"You seemed ready to faint. You got so pale."
"My head was spinning. It just wouldn't stop. As a final blow, with Norton's death, I realised, with inescapable clarity, that the responsibility of this secret was being placed solidly into my hands. Why me? Why did they prepare all this, Leblanc, Lindon, Lupin? What were they doing and why was it so important that I return?"
"You've got to give it some time. Despite the shock of Norton's final moments, at least we know it's over! The Shadow-Killer is dead. We are free of his manipulations. You can lay your family to rest, their deaths avenged. As for Leblanc and the others, all that happened a long time ago. It's over and done with. We may be just finding out about it but the story itself is finished."
"Is it, Raymonde? It doesn't feel finished. It feels vibrant and alive. You are right about one thing: Leblanc, Hitler, Lindon, Lupin, they're all gone. However, I can feel their influence on everything. No matter that they are dead, their ideas, their thoughts have lived on and the result is I have been brought here, to uncover the mysteries they left for me."
The past was gone but it was also still with us, appearing between the cracks, directing our movements, its ideas still powerful, undiminished by the passage of time. As I lay there, reflecting, Raymonde leaned over and gave me a hug.
It became longer, until she stretched out and we fell asleep in each other's arms.
***
A knock on the door woke us up. A glance at the bedside clock told me it was almost s
uppertime. I felt grounded again after the much-needed rest. My shoulder was better, almost back to normal. Raymonde opened the door.
Mrs Leblanc was standing there, holding two steaming plates. "I thought you two might be hungry. Everyone else has eaten and retired to their rooms. No one felt much like speaking anyway."
"Come in, Maman. Thanks!" Raymonde exclaimed, taking the two plates from her mother. I sat with them at the small table. For a while, no one spoke. We picked at our plates, too excited to be hungry. Giving up, I leaned back, looking at Mrs Leblanc, while Raymonde resolutely tried to finish her plate. "Mrs Leblanc, I have something I would like to ask. It might be a bit forward on my part but I simply must find out."
"Paul?" said Raymonde.
"It's all right," Mrs Leblanc replied to her daughter. "I know where he's going with this. Go ahead, Paul, ask your question."
"I've been thinking about the role you've played in our discoveries. For example: You were there, just in time, to save me, when I was in the Vallin's house. There's the comments you made about Leblanc's journal which started us on our chase to Perpignan. You knew by heart the address of the place in Perpignan, where you and Maurice Leblanc stayed. The ditty which helped us find Maurice Leblanc's journal. Sending us to Bequilles. There's Hitler's letter displayed prominently in Maurice Leblanc's office, which you brought me to see. Almost everything we have achieved has been due to your timely intervention. Today, your timing was perfect, when you arrived with Bequilles in tow."
"Just ask your question," Mrs Leblanc prodded.
"Very well. You seem to know much more than you have let on. Do you?"
"Of course I do. I am the grand-daughter of Maurice Leblanc. How could I not? Surely that must have been obvious to you for a while now." she admitted, her stance completely different. Her back was straighter, her voice sure and confident.
"Maman?"
"Yes, my dear, it's true! After Grand-Papa's death, friends of the family, part of the Net, brought me up. Raymond Lindon played a role in my upbringing as well. When the time was right, he gave me some letters from Grand-Papa. They revealed many things about what he had prepared. The letters told me Paul would come and that I should help him find answers. Raymonde, I was going to tell you about all this, on your thirty-fifth birthday as arranged. When Paul arrived six months early, everything moved so quickly I had no opportunity to sit with you and explain."