The troublemaker

Prologue : Mud bath

He missed them. He should never have seen them again in his lifetime. Yet that day, he hugged them in his mud-covered arms.

Feeling that he was being watched, Charles had decided to avoid the freeway. He had been driving for several hours on small country roads. The van's windows were steamed up. His traveling companion didn't speak the same languages as he did, and had fallen asleep as soon as he left Paris. This unshaven Spanish Buddhist monk reeked of garlic. Why had they entrusted him with such a dull companion for this mission? With his head buried in his shoulder blades, the monk showed only his smooth skull, which wobbled against the car door. The scarlet, red and gold of his tunic had long since faded. The cold had imprinted goose bumps on his bare arm and shoulder.

The serene calm of the Champagne countryside covered with a thin layer of fresh snow blurred the driver's irritation. Deprived of conversation, he chose to daydream about his beloved. Having her by his side filled him with joy. Hearing her footsteps on the stairs, falling asleep on her shoulder in front of the TV: he wouldn't go back to his old life as a hardened bachelor for anything in the world. Five years spent by her side and their domestic worries hadn't softened his passion. On the contrary, he loved her more than when he had kissed her in front of their enemy's lair. He'd take the time in Reims to stop and buy her a proper birthday present.

With a smirk on his face, he looked instinctively at the rear-view mirror. A vehicle appeared in the distance, speeding along. His reflexes sharpened and he felt his pulse racing. He stepped on the gas pedal, scanning the landscape for a village or a wood. The road meandered as far as the eye could see through vast, gently undulating beet fields. He had no time to worry about this rural desert. The powerful 4x4 drew closer. Shots rang out behind him. Surprised, he swerved and the van toppled into the roadside ditch, immobilized by its own weight. His passenger uttered an expletive as his head slammed into the airbag.

The heavy, speeding off-road vehicle overtook them. Charles had time to recognize the three men, two of whom were shooting at them. He ruthlessly lowered the monk's head to his knees and lay on top of him. The 4x4 braked in a long, screeching but controlled skid, coming to a halt 100 meters ahead of them. Two assailants emerged unhurriedly from the vehicle and, leaning on the hood with their hands on their weapons, adjusted their shots.

Charles had already leapt out of the van and ejected the monk, who fell into the ditch. They pressed up against the van. A light but icy wind blew across the deserted plain. The sound of gunfire was immediately answered by the metallic gongs on the bodywork as the bullets penetrated. They couldn't stay behind this one-sided protection. They needed four walls. They turned their heads in all directions in search of shelter, but the bareness of the countryside stretched to the horizon. Only a small wood and grain silos in the distance, and a high-voltage power line above them, broke the monotony of the landscape. At the foot of one of the pylons, at the other end of the field, about a hundred metres away, Charles finally made out a ruined farm shed, its roof half-collapsed and overgrown with brambles.

Grabbing the Spaniard's hand, he pulled him out of the ditch. Together they fell into the freshly ploughed field. Smeared with mud, they got up and ran towards the building.

Their feet were ankle-deep in the heavy earth, which the afternoon sun had thawed in patches. Warmed mounds and still-white hollows turned the field into a leopard's skin.

The gunfire stopped. The 4x4 started up again and parked next to the van. The three silhouettes jumped onto the road in a single movement.

The shooting resumed immediately. A swarm of starlings flew off into the distance. The two fugitives had only reached the middle of the field. The Spaniard shrieked. A bullet had just lodged in one of his buttocks. Charles took the monk's arm and put it behind his neck. He forced the monk to stride on through the mud. A large red halo was growing on the saffron robe, like ink on a blotter. The wounded man had lost his sandals and was hobbling along, whimpering in his thick, soaked woollen socks.

As they entered the field, the pursuers stopped shooting and looked down, no doubt disconcerted like the fugitives by the muddy gangs around their feet. After this brief lull, the firing resumed. The fugitives were no more than twenty meters from the hut. Charles drew his weapon, then sheathed it, unsure of how to return fire and carry the monk at the same time. All his thoughts were focused on the little cement and plank hut where he wanted to take cover to shoot back. Only ten meters to go. A bullet whistled past his ears. He threw himself on the ground with the Spaniard. Lying on his back, with the pistol in his belt, he began to crawl, pressing his feet against the ground as hard as he could swim the breaststroke backwards. With each push, his arms pulled the monk towards him. The latter, belly down, stared at his rescuer, his eyes petrified with fear and his mouth open. The mud acted like a tight brake, determined to slow them down as much as possible. Five meters separated them from the shelter. The pursuers were baffled by the new angle of fire they had to improvise to reach these two earthworms smeared with the same brown as the color of the field.

During this new respite, an exhausted Charles let his head fall back to the ground. He reflected that he'd had enough of the circus he'd been fighting and hiding for over the last few years to save his skin and accomplish his missions. How good it would be to wait here for his old enemies, stretched out looking up at the clouds. They would finally bring him the death they had tried so many times to give him. But he thought back to her, to the warmth of her skin and to what awaited him on the other side. Eternal rest, you bet! The snow began to fall again. Two meters to go. Visibility was becoming too poor for the shooters. With a supreme effort, he got to his feet and hurled the monk against the door, which opened with a loud crash. Without looking inside, he stepped over the slumped monk and slammed the door. He caught his breath, eyes closed, forehead against the doorframe. He sensed a presence and turned, gun in hand.

Sitting cross-legged on the bare earth, naked as before, they drew signs in the dust of the floor. The cold seemed to have no hold on them. With mischievous smiles on their faces, they pretended to ignore the intrusion. A bullet shattered the last remaining pane of glass in the hut's window. The monk curled into a fetal position and Charles crouched beside them.

- What are you doing here?" he said, in a voice that betrayed both concern and joy at finding them.

They smiled at him as they stood up. They dusted off their legs, while the thud of bullets against the thick planks of the hut could be heard on all sides. The attackers had closed in and were spreading out in an arc. A bullet pierced a hole in the wall and clattered against the metal of a rusty tractor engine.

- Papou is always in trouble. Good thing we're here to save the day!

They leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, laughing. He melted with happiness as he felt the long-awaited embrace.

They opened the cabin door. Lurking in the shadows, he gazed for a moment at the two graceful, youthful silhouettes against the ashen sky. How they had grown, he mused, and how beautiful they were.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, the shooting stopped. Gun in hand, he rushed to the window, then to the door. No one stood on the sinister plain. All that remained was the brown field with its icy puddles, the cry of crows and, on the side of the road, the gaunt trees, a 4x4 parked sideways and a van in the ditch.

He took two steps outside and scratched the back of his neck. Forgetting his mission, the moaning monk and his sweaty feet in the mud, he contemplated the landscape. The countryside was sad as far as the eye could see, yet he found it sparkling and radiant. Nothing was to worry him anymore. They would always be there to watch over him.