‘Have you noticed that they talk about their brotherhood as if it was an exclusive club? It’s like “us and them” … I’m not sure how best to express the idea.’
‘You express it well.’
‘The members of the community were the first people to organise a search for Anna Lou. I get the impression they’ve been quite close to the family. This morning, some of them even moved in to the Kastners’ house to look after them and make sure they’re not left alone.’
They came to the church. There was a more modern building next to the priest’s house.
‘That’s the meeting hall. They use it much more than the church itself, especially for prayer meetings. Apparently, the community is very influential in the valley. It even has a say in the decisions of the mining company. The mayor, the councillors and all the public officials are elected by the brotherhood. As a result, they’ve imposed a series of prohibitions, like no smoking in public, no serving alcohol on Sundays and feast days or after six in the evening. They’re also against abortion and homosexuality, and they aren’t too keen on unmarried couples cohabiting either.’
Fucking fanatics, Vogel thought. But part of him was extremely pleased.
The context surrounding Anna Lou’s disappearance was perfect. The mysterious disappearance of a young girl, evil striking a community strictly devoted to God and His precepts, a whole village forced to question itself about what was happening.
Or had already happened.
Vogel had asked to meet the mayor and one of the forest rangers. Borghi had immediately proceeded to set it up, although he had been somewhat surprised by Vogel’s request to hold the meeting on the banks of the river that flowed through the valley.
When they arrived, Borghi parked the car in a broad, gravelled open space on which stood a disused wooden kiosk that had once, according to an old sign, been used for selling live bait and renting fishing rods. The mayor and the forest ranger were already there, standing by a four-by-four with municipal registration plates.
The mayor was a sturdy man with an exaggerated paunch barely held in check by his trouser belt. He was wearing a thick mountain jacket open at the front, a blue cotton shirt and a tie with hideous red diamonds. His tie pin was of gold and ended in a little amethyst crucifix. Vogel didn’t betray the contempt he felt for this outfit, or for the ridiculous comb-over on the mayor’s pear-shaped head, or the moustache above his thick lips. The mayor, he thought, was one of those individuals who are always hot, even in winter. His perennially red cheeks were evidence of that. When he approached Vogel with his most cordial smile, the special agent accepted his energetic handshake but didn’t return the enthusiasm.
‘I’ve known the Kastners my whole life, Special Agent,’ the mayor said, his smile turning to an expression of distress. ‘You have no idea how pained I am by what’s happening right now. We’re happy that you’re here dealing with our Anna Lou. Given your fame, I know she’s in excellent hands.’
Anna Lou had suddenly become everyone’s daughter, Vogel thought. When it came down to it, that’s how it always was, or at least it was what people paid lip service to. But when they closed the doors of their houses behind them, they’d all be grateful that this had happened to someone else’s child.
‘Your girl will be our top priority,’ Vogel replied, and the mayor didn’t catch the hint of sarcasm in his voice. ‘Now can we see the river?’
Vogel walked round him and headed for the river bank. The mayor was taken aback for a moment, then hurried after him, followed by the forest ranger and Borghi. Borghi wondered how close to the river Vogel wanted to go. To his great surprise, he saw him walk past the edge of the gravel, dip his feet in the mud and keep going, unworried about soiling his fine suit and expensive shoes.
At that point, the others were forced to do the same.
The forest ranger was the only one wearing boots. The others were soon up to their knees in mud. It struck Borghi that he would have to do another wash at the hotel this evening, although it might not be enough to save the only suit he owned.
‘The river has an average width of eight to ten metres and a fairly strong current,’ the forest ranger said. ‘This is the point where it slows down the most.’
Vogel had already questioned him on a series of details. The forest ranger didn’t understand why they interested him so much. ‘What depth does it reach?’ Vogel asked.
‘A metre and a half on average, two and a half at some points. Deep enough to let a lot of rubbish accumulate there that the current can’t clear away.’
‘So you have to do it?’
‘Once every two or three years. In autumn, before it starts raining, we set up an artificial dyke and the dredges get the work done in a week.’
Borghi turned towards the bridge that spanned the river. It was some eight hundred metres away. And on it stood the black van he had spotted before outside the Kastners’ house. He assumed the two men he had seen then were still on board. He thought of pointing it out to Vogel.
‘Ever since the mine slowed down the river to drain part of the water,’ the forest ranger went on, ‘all kinds of stuff has been piling up on the bottom, including animal carcasses. God alone knows what’s down there. The river is sick.’
These final words provoked the mayor to correct his subordinate. ‘The council has convinced the company to finance a programme of environmental safeguards. Large sums are being spent on drainage.’
Vogel ignored the comment and turned to Borghi, distracting him from the van. ‘We’ll have to talk to the company and ask for lists of their outside suppliers and the names of the workers who commute.’
The mayor appeared visibly worried. ‘Come on, now, why bother them over what might turn out to be just a bit of childish mischief?’
Vogel turned and looked at him. ‘A bit of childish mischief?’ he asked gravely.
The mayor tried to amend what he had said. ‘Don’t misunderstand me, I’m a father, too, and I know how the Kastners must be feeling … But doesn’t this alarmism seem a little hasty? The company gives work to a lot of people in the valley. They won’t appreciate this kind of publicity.’
The mayor was using sincerity to win over Vogel, Borghi noted. But political pragmatism wouldn’t work with him.
‘Let me tell you something,’ Vogel said, going right up to the mayor and lowering his voice as if imparting a confidence. ‘I’ve learned that there are two periods of time in which to do things. Now and later. Putting things off may seem wise, sometimes we need to think deeply about situations and their possible consequences. But unfortunately, in some circumstances, thinking too much may be taken for hesitation or, worse still, for weakness. Delaying never makes things better. And there’s no worse publicity than failure, believe me.’
When he had finished his little lecture, Vogel turned to the area of open ground from which they had come. He had been alerted by a voice trying to overcome the noise of the river. The others immediately turned in the same direction.
There on the bank, before the muddy section started, stood a blonde woman in a blue tailored suit and a short dark coat, waving her arms in their direction.
When they came level with her, Borghi guessed from her dirty shoes that the woman had tried to walk in the mud but had been prevented by her heels.