Bitter Draughts by Yves Fey

Author:Yves Fey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yves Fey
Published: 2022-09-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Four

Life is far too short to spend crawling

at the feet of despicable scoundrels.

Stendhal

Quickening his step, Zeb made his way across the open expanse of the bridge, his eyes searching out possible sharpshooters the colonel might have put in place. He scoped out the best lines of sight on the rooftops without spotting anything suspicious. His concern about an assassination attempt on his own life had ratcheted after the attack on Mickey. His guts were knotted. He was incensed with the colonel’s machinations and incensed that his own lack of foresight had put his friend at risk.

There was an hour before the coded message had told him to appear, so he had a whiskey in a nearby bar to get warm. Leaving, he repeated his scrutiny of the roof lines before descending the stone steps to the Seine. Patches of snow lingered on the quai but the night sky was clear, the half moon glowing a dusky orange. Zeb’s tension rose as he waited for the colonel. Would they try to kill him here on the quai? He had a revolver tucked into his belt, a smaller pistol in his jacket pocket, and a knife in his boot. If they’d decided to put him down, it wouldn’t be easy. He’d make sure he took Gossard with him.

He forced himself to breathe deeply. They needed him. There would be no one else as skilled to accomplish the assassination of Zola.

Gossard arrived promptly on the hour, his posture rigid as he climbed down the icy steps of the quai. He stalked over to Zeb, his words thudding like bricks. “What were you thinking? Involving the police!”

Zeb gave him his own excuse. “Inspecteur Devaux was a friend from the Legion. It was better to initiate contact with him than stumble into him by accident. Avoidance would have drawn suspicion.”

“And what was casual about a trip to see Zola and the traitor Jew’s brother?”

“I was offered the opportunity and it seemed foolish not to accept a chance to gather some useful intelligence.”

“It was not your decision to make.”

“Of course it was. I cannot petition you every time something unexpected requires a choice.”

“You will create suspicion.”

“It will deflect suspicion. I was invited as a courtesy and am presumed to be pro-Dreyfus.” Zeb replied, though he remembered his refusal to let Léonie touch him. There could be a thousand reasons, but the true one might leap to mind once he’d killed Zola. “Inspecteur Devaux only interviewed Zola and Dreyfus because they affect his investigation into the murder of Étienne Lauzier.”

“Does Devaux suspect the Army?”

“Of course. Everyone suspects the Army.”

“Who was there?” Gossard demanded.

Zeb was certain the colonel had a full list of visitors, so he named the men and mentioned that a group of women had arrived. “Three fine looking women, a brunette, a redhead, and a blonde,” he said, making as light of it as he could. “We greeted them, and they immediately withdrew with the journalist’s wife.”

“Nothing of interest?” Gossard pressed.

Zeb pretended to reflect.

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