The Square of Revenge Read Free Page B

million.”
    He lunged indignantly to the other side of the shop and disappeared into a narrow corridor via a dividing door. Martens and Versavel followed, but before they reached the door they heard him shout “mon Dieu” for a second time.
    Versavel was first into the corridor. He saw two doors to his right, both of them closed. On the left there was only one door, and it was half open. He noticed a pungent penetrating smell but couldn’t figure out what it was. Hannelore Martens started to cough.
    They made their way into a small workshop. Degroof was standing with his hands in his hair staring at a wall safe. The door of the safe was hanging from one of its hinges like a piece of modern sculpture.
    “Curious,” Versavel whistled. He produced his notebook and scribbled a few notes. Just as he was about to ask the jeweler a question, the shop phone started to ring. Like Lot’s wife, Degroof had been rendered immobile, his hand frozen in front of his eyes in a bizarrely watchful, dramatic pose. Versavel returned to the shop and picked up the receiver.
    “Sergeant Versavel speaking. Who’s this?”
    For a few seconds, there was silence on the other end of the line. The man from Securitas knew he was out of luck.
    Every time the alarm was switched off, a signal was transmitted via a special telephone line to an emergency center almost sixty miles away. But the security guard had taken a couple of hour’s nap that night, something he had never done before. He had promised his son a day out at an amusement park and his ex-wife refused to allow for the fact that he worked shifts. As far as she was concerned, he had visiting rights on Sundays and she made no exceptions.
    “Freddy Dugardin from the emergency center. Is this the police?” he asked in the vain hope that the answer would be negative.
    “Yes,” said Versavel without intonation. He figured the man was nervous and could understand why. If the alarm had gone off that night or been disarmed and he hadn’t heard the signal for one or other reason, he could expect to be signing up for unemployment on Monday morning.
    “Nothing serious going on, is there?” Dugardin asked, close to desperation.
    “The entire shop’s been cleared out, my friend.” As Versavel spoke, he suddenly realized that the alarm had in fact been on when they entered the premises. Degroof had disarmed it. That was why the guard had called. It was Sunday, and the system should have functioned normally until Monday morning. There should have been no interruptions, either right this morning or any time the night before.
    “Did anyone disarm the system during the night?” Versavel inquired. In the meantime, he had opened his notebook and his pen was at the ready.
    “One moment,” said Dugardin. He feverishly typed the code for Degroof Diamonds and Jewelry into the keyboard in front of him on his desk: wv-BR-1423. After a couple of seconds the computer provided the requested information. Dugardin rubbed his face with the palm of his hand and started to breathe again.
    “Sergeant,” he said, audibly relieved, “nothing registered between midnight and now.”
    “And before midnight?”
    “Just a second.”
    It took two minutes before Dugardin volunteered an answer.
    “Mr. Degroof disarmed the system himself on Friday evening. He informed my colleague by phone.”
    “Friday, you say,” Versavel repeated. “Stay on the line for a moment. Mr. Degroof is here beside me.”
    Versavel turned to Degroof. “Did you disarm the system on Friday evening?” he inquired. Deputy Martens had joined them and was listening carefully.
    “Of course not,” said Degroof, evidently affronted.
    “Mr. Degroof claims he didn’t disarm the system on Friday evening,” Versavel told Dugardin. He used the word “claims” on purpose. He had been in the force long enough to know that people should never be taken at their word.
    “Not so,” Dugardin answered, a deal more confident. “He called at