The Caves of Etretat The Sirenne Saga, #1 by Matt Chatelain, 1960- Published: 2012 J J J J J I I I I I Table of Contents Dedication Foreword & Chapter 1 ... Murdered! Chapter 2 ... Assembling the Team. Chapter 3 ... A Decision is reached. Chapter 4 ... Travelling to France. Chapter 5 ... The Needle of Etretat. Chapter 6 ... Raymonde Leblanc. Top Secret Document from Weissmuller Chapter 7 ... Talking to Mrs Leblanc. Chapter 8 ... Leblanc‘s Hidden Message. Chapter 9 ... The Secret in the Office. A Selection from the Weissmuller Manuscript Chapter 10 ... The Tunnels. Chapter 11 ... Bequilles‘ Story. Chapter 12 ... The Vallin Brothers. My Final Story, by Maurice Leblanc Chapter 13 ... Maximillian Bauer. A Selection from the Weissmuller Manuscript Chapter 14 ... A Surprise from my Friends. A Selection from the Weissmuller Manuscript Chapter 15 ... The Secret in the Depths. Chapter 16 ... A Meeting with The Net. A Selection from the Weissmuller Manuscript Chapter 17 ... Final Answers. Addendum A King’s Displeasure The Sirenne Saga J J J J J I I I I I To Mom. Fantastic new version. Canadian bookstore owner Paul Sirenne heads to the town of Etretat, France, on the trail of a hundred year old mystery hidden in the pages of The Hollow Needle , by Maurice Leblanc. Together with Leblanc‘s great-granddaughter, Sirenne unearths puzzles, codes and historical mysteries, exposing a secret war for control of a cave fortress in Etretat‘s chalk cliffs. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author‘s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Foreword I have been led to certain knowledge and this has caused me to re-evaluate everything I believe about the world. The knowledge did not come easily. I was manipulated into walking a trail, never knowing what I was to find until it was upon me. In light of what I now know, my last task before I leave this world will be to write a chronicle, these four books, so I may reveal how this began. A whole series of events were occurring in step with my journey. Others happened before I was born. I have inserted various journals at key points in this chronicle to clarify the multitude of connections leading me forward. The beginning of any path rarely indicates where it will end. Now I know the answer was within me from the very start. I couldn‘t see it, not until I had walked the entire way. After all, that is the purpose of the path. Paul Sirenne Chapter 1 Murdered! I had a feeling something was wrong before I even opened my front door. The three men standing on my porch, flashing their badges, did nothing to dispel my concerns. Behind them, I noticed a parked car with a rotating red light stuck on its dash. The tallest man spoke softly. „Good evening. Sorry to disturb you at this late hour. We are looking for a man named Sirenne. Paul Sirenne.“ „I‘m Paul Sirenne. What is this about?“ „My name is Detective Harris. This is my partner, Detective Stafford and this is Inspector Norton from Interpol, who is here strictly as an observer. I‘m afraid I have some bad news. I was wondering if we might come in for a few minutes?“ Worried, I stepped aside and allowed them in. The two detectives entered, followed by the grimy-looking Inspector who walked in quickly, his shifty eyes darting nervously left and right. The men accompanied me to the study, where several easy chairs served as a setting for the conversation. Detective Harris pulled out a small tape recorder, placing it on the coffee table between us. Detective Stafford excused himself, asking directions to the kitchen, claiming to be thirsty. The Interpol Inspector remained standing, his beady eyes never leaving me. „Sorry about the tape recorder. My memory is terrible and I can‘t take field notes, not legible ones anyway. It‘s always so difficult in these cases. I never know exactly how to proceed. However, experience has taught me being direct is the lesser of two evils. I‘d like you to prepare yourself for a shock, Mr Sirenne, a bad shock.“ Harris shifted in his chair, waiting for my reaction. A hard knot in my stomach replaced the butterflies previously fluttering there. I nodded. „Mr Sirenne, your parents have been murdered.“ „What? That‘s impossible, Detective. I just saw my father and Darlene three days ago. They were fine,“ I protested, choking up. „I‘m terribly sorry but we are positive of our facts. Their identity was confirmed through fingerprinting. Your father, identified as Paul Sirenne, and his wife, identified as Darlene Sirenne, were killed two nights ago, shortly after midnight.“ „What happened? Was it robbery?“ „No, I‘m afraid it‘s nothing that easy, Mr Sirenne. They were murdered, then mutilated. Nothing was stolen, as far as we can tell.“ My head was spinning. „They never did anything to anyone. Who would want to hurt them?“ Inspector Norton answered. „Detective Harris doesn‘t know why, nobody does. However, I may know who has done it. I‘m not from here, you see. I‘m not even supposed to be on this case. Did you know someone called the murder in? Curious, isn‘t it? As soon as I heard about them, I knew they matched the pattern of a murderer I call the Shadow- Killer. By chance, I was right here in town for a convention. Lucky for you and for the local police. I‘ve been investigating the Shadow-Killer for many years now, spending every hour of my spare time. He is the most elusive monster I have ever encountered, responsible for at least forty-five murders, most of them in Europe. I now believe he has come here, to Ottawa, to kill your parents.“ „I want to see them.“ Detective Harris jumped in, taking back control of the conversation. „I‘d suggest you don‘t, Mr Sirenne. He left a grisly scene. It‘s better if you remember your parents as you last saw them.“ „I don‘t care.“ „I know how you feel, believe me, but you should give this some time. Anyway, the bodies have already been taken to our forensics lab...“ Norton interrupted Harris again. „For all the good it will do. The Shadow-Killer never leaves a speck of dust behind. You‘d know that, Detective, if you‘d seen what I‘ve seen.“ Ignoring him, Detective Harris continued. „Anyway, listen, how about we talk a bit more and after that, if you still want to see them, we‘ll take you down to the morgue. It‘s the best I can offer right now.“ Detective Stafford came back into the study with a glass of water, as Norton interrupted Harris yet again. „Mr Sirenne, I am convinced your parents were selected, chosen, by the Shadow-Killer for some reason. Detective Harris was right not to want you to see their bodies. The Shadow-Killer‘s modus operandi is brutal. He is inhuman when killing people. Seeing what he leaves behind is hard, even for seasoned officers. But what he did with your parents is truly horrible.“ I was numbed. Norton continued his rapid-fire delivery, disregarding the looks from Detective Harris. „The killer wanted to leave a message for someone. He staged the bodies, placing them in a way that would, uhm, look like two letters- an H and an N. Does that mean anything to you?“ My mind was a blank. I could hardly think, let alone reason. „An H and an N? HN? No, I‘m sorry it doesn‘t, Inspector.“ How could a human body be positioned to look like an N? The H seemed easy enough, but the N baffled me. How could anyone position a body to look like a proper N? „Mr Sirenne, don‘t go down that road. I know what you‘re thinking. Norton, how could you blurt it out like that? Listen to me, just let it go.“ My mind kept working, ignoring his advice, bending an imaginary stick figure this way, that way, desperately trying to make it fit an N. „Tell me how he did it.“ „You don‘t want to know, Mr Sirenne, don‘t ask me that,“ Harris retorted, looking increasingly ill at ease. „Tell me!“ „I‘ll tell him, Detective, if you‘re too squeamish.“ „Norton, no. You‘re just an observer here.“ „Give me a break with those stupid rules. He‘s got to understand what he‘s facing. I‘m going to tell him and you‘re not going to stop me.“ Norton sat next to the scowling Detective Harris, and looked me straight in the eyes. „He placed your father in the shape of an H by opening up his arms and legs, his body acting as the centre bar. I believe the legs wouldn‘t take the right position so he, uhm, he cut the tendons. That way he could place both legs in a straight line. He cut off the head to finish the job.“ The image burned into my brain. Norton continued with his description, his voice tightly controlled, his eyes never leaving mine. „The N was harder. Again, he used the body as the angled bar in the centre of the letter. After removing the head, he placed the shoulders at the top and dropped the right arm as the first bar of the ›N‹.