Hands of the Traitor Read Free Page A

me." He might as well tell Zoé
everything. "They've moved him to a mental hospital because they
say he's a danger to others. My family has done nothing to help him
over the years, and I want to make sure he gets the right treatment
at last."
    Zoé looked around the bar which had
suddenly grown noisier as the Saturday lunchtime regulars crowded
in. "It is very loud in here. You would like me to
help?"
    Matt raised his voice to be heard
above the shouting and the piped music. "I don't think they'd let
you near him. But thanks. It's just good to be able to talk to
someone who understands." Then he realized that Zoé Champanelle was
offering to spend more time with him. "I could take you to see
him."
    He groaned inwardly as he
realized what he'd said. Come and meet my grandfather -- he's insane. As a chat-up line it had to equal an
invite to a public execution. He could just as easily have
suggested an uncomplicated evening in town. He'd only mentioned his
grandfather in the first place to explain why he was looking at
medical books, to let her know that he wasn't a sick weirdo --
which she probably now thought he was. It hadn't been a serious
invitation. He blamed the scent coming from Zoé.
    To his surprise she smiled, showing an
attractive if somewhat wide mouth. "I think perhaps you have the
problems in your life. If I went with you I could not give a
medical opinion."
    "Just the opinion of a
friend."
    The smile went instantly at the word
friend. She shook her head. "I am a nurse, and that is
all."
    He'd blown it. A trip to the local
asylum was never going to win a fair maiden's heart, even though
Zoé's hair was dark brown and anything but fair. He'd been given a
chance to start life again, and had got everything wrong from the
word go.
    "Yes, I will go with you."
    He stared in amazement. "There's a
problem. They won't let me see my grandfather till he's settled
down." Always there were problems. There had to be a way to stay in
contact with Zoé over the next few days. "We could go to the cinema
this evening. Or back to my place now for a meal. I know how to
open the freezer and put food in the microwave."
    " Non ." She sounded certain. Then she smiled. "It is
kind of you, Matt. Perhaps we could go somewhere for a
pizza?"
    "I know a good Italian restaurant." He
looked at his watch. "We could go straight there. The food here is
awful."
    "And I will pay half."
    "No you won't."
    "Please, I would like to."
    It was probably a well-meaning offer,
but he didn't intend to take Zoé up on it. "You can pay your share
next time." Next time? He hadn't meant it to sound as though meals
were to be a permanent fixture, but Zoé nodded and smiled in
response.
    " D'accord ."
    No problem there then. He finished his
beer. "Drink up and we'll go."
    "And you can tell me what happened to
your grandfather in France."
    *
    Northern France -- Seven days later
-- Saturday
    HENK VAN HETEREN had what he called a
significant collection of military relics from both World Wars. The
collection had once been on exhibition in Antwerp, making his name
a legend around the Dutch metal detecting clubs. Members sometimes
joked that he could home in on wartime remains with his detector
switched off. He didn't laugh at observations like this because it
wasn't amusing. He had plenty of admirers, but very few friends who
wanted to come with him on field trips. Anyway, he preferred
working alone.
    As far as Henk was concerned, spectators
were a nuisance. They were fools who stood in the way, gaping at
whatever came up from the bottom of the holes he dug with his
trowel -- or with his very sharp knife.
    Henk Van Heteren wanted to work
unaccompanied and unwatched. Today his metal detector had failed to
give a decent signal for the past ten minutes; just the occasional
squawk of unwanted trash. Yet within an hour of arriving on this
site he'd received a small, clean signal -- before the fools gathered. The
hand had been little more than a skeleton, with a signet ring