Son of Holmes

“Do you have time for a drink?” I asked Georges.

“Always.”

We stopped at a small, dark bar, and each of us ordered a cognac. We sat near the door, watching over the car and its load.

“What’s your business here?” asked Georges.

“Oh, I’m supposed to see some people about a vine graft. In fact, with all this mess about Marcel, I’m afraid I don’t feel like doing any kind of business. I was wondering if I could help you in your deliveries. Tania has told me a lot about the factory, or asenal, here. Whatever it is. Her friend Maurice Ponty is the director, and I’d like to see it. Keep my mind from… from other things.”

“Delighted, Jules! I could use the company. Maybe Ponty could show us around. Normally I only deliver to the gates.”

“Oh, you’ve never been inside?” Somehow I was both relieved and disappointed.

“No. Tight security and all that. Normally Henri and I come down together and leave everything with the attendants.”

“Hmm…” I said, rather pointlessly.

We finished our drinks and returned to the car. After a few more minutes of driving, we reached our destination.

The St. Etie

We went first to the delivery area, where Georges presented his papers and unloaded his supplies. Then we drove to the main gate, parked, and approached the sentry box.

“Yes, what do you want?” said the guard.

“We’d like to visit, if we may,” Georges replied.

The guard laughed heartily. “Impossible.”

Georges and I looked helplessly at one another, and he began again. “But I’ve been delivering here since you’ve opened. We’d just like to look around inside.”

The guard stopped laughing and blew on his whistle. Within seconds, four other guards had run up, weapons at the ready. I decided to speak.

“I’d like to see Monsieur Ponty.”

At the mention of the director’s name, the guards looked at one another indecisively. Finally one of them went into the building. After about ten minutes, which seemed much longer because of the heat and the circumstances, the guard returned with a short, round, cheerful-looking man.

“You asked for me? I am Monsieur Ponty.”

“Yes. I am a friend of Tania Chessal. She’s spoken so much to me about your operation here. I’d hoped to be privileged with a look for myself. Jules Giraud is my name.”

There was a hint of recognition in his eyes, and he nodded to the guards, who started back to their posts.

“And this man?” he asked, indicating Georges.

“Georges Lavoie, monsieur. He has been delivering your medical supplies for some time, and is a personal friend.”

He stared for another moment. “Come with me.”

We crossed the wide yard of gravel, and I couldn’t help noticing the scrutiny with which we were observed from every direction. There were sentries posted at the gates, along the fence, at selected bunkers in the yard, and on the roof. Ponty seemed to notice my interest, and smiled.

He led us through the large glass doors and down a long corridor to his office, the second room on the right. I was surprised to find it so well furnished. There was a bright rug covering the floor, and several prints on the walls, including Van Gogh’s The Field at Arles which I thought a very strange choice for the director of an arsenal. To the right, behind his desk, were filing cabinets of a light, drab wood; and, to the left, an elegant bar. His desk itself was a flat and large slab of oak which rested on unfinished timbers, although the joints were perfectly matched. It was an efficient office, though not without personality.

We were seated.

“So, you are Jules Giraud. Tania speaks of you often.”

I inclined my head slightly. “She’s quite impressed with you and this place, you know? Have you known her long?”

“Oh, quite some time. I knew her husband before they were married. A fine man. You knew Jean?”

“Yes, he was my neighbor.”

“Ah, yes, yes. Of course.”

I didn’t wish to speak of Jean Chessal, especially to a friend of his. My conscience was not completely clear regarding him.

“And how is Tania?” he asked.

“Quite well,” I said, not entirely truthfully. “She sends her best.”

He smiled. “Do ask her to come by soon. She is a welcome guest anytime. She doesn’t visit nearly enough.”

“I will ask her, though I somehow didn’t think you solicited visitors here. The guards…”

We all laughed. Then, in a brusque but friendly way, he clapped his hands together and sat up straight.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

“Well, frankly, we decided to come to see you mostly out of curiosity. Monsieur Lavoie, here, had some deliveries to make, and I had other business in town, which I chose to put off. Tania had told me so much about this building, and about yourself, that I thought I’d come by to meet you and to see some of your i

“You did, did you?” There was more than a bit of flint in the mildly humorous gaze.

I raised a hand. “Please stop me if I’m out of line.”

“Be assured that I would, monsieur. It is no small matter that you have been allowed to come this far. You’re aware of that, of course.” It wasn’t a question, and he continued. “But then we’ve carried on this farce long enough. It isn’t every day that one meets such a serious rival face-to-face, is it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t completely understand,” I said.

“Come, come, Monsieur Giraud. Surely you don’t think just anyone can enter this compound. And I do think I’m justified in calling it precisely that. Probably there isn’t another man, or men”-here he motioned to Georges-“in France that I would have allowed within these walls without an official reason. ‘Just wanted to look over your i

Georges picked up the tenuous threads. “He’s found you out, Jules, No doubt of it.”

“All right,” I said, forcing a grin. I had no choice but to press on, hoping that Ponty would drop some further clue as to what he was talking about. “I’ll admit it-I simply had to discover what it was all about.”

The director looked suitably downcast. “It’s about love.”

“Yes,” I answered, “it is about love.”

“She told you, then, about my proposal?”

“Of course,” I said, my stomach sinking since in fact she’d told me no such thing. “Just the other day.”

“Yes, I expected she would have. I must admit I never entertained much hope, but I had to try.”

Again Georges came to my rescue. “She is a remarkable woman,” he said. “Who could blame you?”

Ponty sighed deeply. Then, again clapping his hands softly in what I took to be a characteristic gesture, he regained his businesslike composure. “Well, I am glad to meet you after all. If I have to lose her, it is some comfort to meet the man and realize that he is a gentleman.”