Sabir looked vainly around for Alexi. What had the idiot done? Last seen, he had been heading off towards the church. But Sabir had checked out the crypt and found him nowhere. And this crypt wasn’t like the one at Rocamadour. Here, there was nowhere to hide – unless he’d somehow managed to secrete himself beneath Sainte Sara’s multi-layered skirts.
He returned to the town hall as arranged. ‘Have you found him?’
Yola shook her head.
‘Well what do we do then?’
‘Maybe he’s gone back to the Maset? Maybe he found something? Did you see him actually enter the church?’
‘You couldn’t see anything in that bedlam.’
Instinctively, without saying a word to each other, they turned down the Avenue Leon Gambetta towards the Plage des Amphores and the horses.
Sabir glanced across at Yola. ‘You did brilliantly by the way. I just wanted to tell you that. You’re a born agent provocateur.’
‘Agent provocatrice. Who taught you your French?’
Sabir laughed. ‘My mother. But her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted me to be an All-American, like my father. But I let her down. I turned into an All-or-Nothing instead.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do I.’
They’d reached Bouboul’s caravan. The picket where the three horses should have been tethered was conspicuously empty.
‘Great. Someone’s made off with the bloody lot. Or maybe Bouboul’s sold them for dog meat? Do you know what shanks’s pony is, Yola?’
‘Wait. There’s Bouboul. I’ll ask him what happened to them.’
Yola hurried across the road. Watching her, Sabir realised that he was missing something – some clue that she had already picked up. He crossed the road behind her.
Bouboul threw his hands up in the air. He was talking in Sinti. Sabir tried to follow but was unable to do more than understand that something unexpected had happened and that Bouboul was loudly disclaiming any responsibility for it.
Finally, tiring of Bouboul’s harangue, Sabir drew Yola to one side. ‘Translate, please. I can’t make out a word of what this guy is saying.’
‘It is bad, Damo. As bad as it could be.’
‘Where have the horses gone?’
‘Alexi took one. Twenty minutes ago. He was exhausted. He had been running. According to Bouboul he was so worn out he could hardly mount the horse. Thirty seconds later another man came running up. This man was not tired at all. He had strange eyes, according to Bouboul. He didn’t look at anybody. Talk to anybody. He simply took the second horse and rode off after Alexi.’
‘Jesus Christ. That’s all we needed. Did Bouboul try and tangle with him?’
‘Does he look like a fool? They were not Bouboul’s horses. They weren’t even ours. Why should he risk himself for someone else’s property?’
‘Why indeed?’ Sabir was still trying to figure out what might have triggered the chase. ‘Where is the third horse? And was Alexi carrying anything? Ask him.’
Yola turned to Bouboul. They exchanged a few brief sentences in Sinti. ‘It’s worse than I thought.’
‘Worse? How can it be worse? You already said it was as bad as it could be.’
‘Alexi was carrying something. You were right. A bamboo tube.’
‘A bamboo tube?’
‘Yes. He had it clutched to his chest like a baby.’
Sabir grabbed Yola’s arm. ‘Don’t you see what that means? He found he prophecies. Alexi found them.’
‘But that is not all.’
Sabir closed his eyes. ‘You don’t need to tell me. I picked up the name while you were talking. Gavril.’
‘Yes, Gavril. He was following both of them. He arrived about a minute after the eye-man. It was he who took the third horse.’