himself. He moved away to stand by the light box table, then leaned against it. “My God,” he repeated, staring at nothing, and at no one in particular.
The Goth sat at the computer, unmoving, looking at the screen.
Carey Bloomfield looked at Müller with some anxiety. She caught Pappenheim’s eye. Pappenheim gave a barely perceptible shake of the head, advising her to leave Müller alone for the moment.
Then Müller took a deep breath, and returned to stand behind the Goth.
“Alright, Hedi,” he began. “Can you call up a map of the Grenoble area, and expand the site they mention?”
“No problem.” She had it on screen in seconds.
Müller stared at the image. “Can you give me a topographical view? I want to see what kind of terrain…”
She was doing it even as he spoke. “There,” she said. “3D.”
“Hmm,” he said. “One can drive almost close to it…about a kilometre’s walk away. Good. So what is this ‘Naked Mouse’? How did you come by it.”
“You were right in one sense, sir. The paper began as a school rag. Two friends used it to poke fun at the school authorities. But they also began to do some serious investigating. They actually got a teacher sacked for creative accounting…with his budget.”
“Bet that made them popular,” Pappenheim.
“It didn’t,” Hedi Meyer confirmed. “They nearly got thrown out, but their academic results were so good, it would have raised even more embarrassing questions.”
“So they took their skills into the outside world, and annoyed the establishment instead,” Müller said.
“Exactly, sir. They go into plenty of trouble, but the paper got so successful, they had a big support base. Lawyers defended them for free.”
“Lawyers working for nothing,” Carey Bloomfield put in. “That’s something.”
“They’re not American lawyers,” the Goth remarked mildly.
“Oh wow!” Carey Bloomfield exclaimed. “Did you see that arrow go by, Müller?”
“Goth?” Müller said to Hedi Meyer.
“Sir?”
“Behave.”
“Just joking.”
“Oh yeah,” Carey Bloomfield said.
“You too,” Müller told her. “Go on, Hedi.”
“A friend of mine – he’s a bit Left - collects old issues of the Mouse. I asked to borrow some 1982 issues. You’d think I was pulling his teeth with pliers. I almost had to insure my life, but he allowed me to take them on loan. I scanned them in, but couldn’t find anything. So I…mmm…got into a database…”
“You ‘got into a database’. That’s the part I don’t want to know about.”
She nodded. “That’s the part.”
“Alright, then. Fast forward.”
“It seems that the friends – despite being successful executives of the paper – decided to go back to what they loved doing best: investigating. They discovered discrepancies in the reports about the crash site.”
“Where are they now? Is the paper still running?”
“That’s the strange thing, sir. Less than a year later, the paper went out of business…”
“It folded? ”
“Yes, sir. But it gets stranger. One of them is dead. I can’t find out exactly how it happened; nor what has happened to the other one. Can’t say whether he’s still alive, or dead too. Nothing I have dug into, has come up with an answer. So far.”
“The paper had staff. What happened to them?”
“Working for other people, and not talking.”
Müller said nothing for some moments.
Pappenheim, hands in pockets, studied him watchfully.
Carey Bloomfield said, “You’re driving down to Grenoble.”
“Most definitely.”
“I’ll come.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I know I don’t have to. It’s an offer you’re not going to refuse.”
Müller said nothing to that.
“What were the names of those school friends?” he asked the Goth.
“Roger Montville, and Jean-Marc Lavaliere.”
Müller repeated the names to himself, then nodded, as if in confirmation of something. “That was excellent investigative work, Hedi.
The Goth sat at the computer, unmoving, looking at the screen.
Carey Bloomfield looked at Müller with some anxiety. She caught Pappenheim’s eye. Pappenheim gave a barely perceptible shake of the head, advising her to leave Müller alone for the moment.
Then Müller took a deep breath, and returned to stand behind the Goth.
“Alright, Hedi,” he began. “Can you call up a map of the Grenoble area, and expand the site they mention?”
“No problem.” She had it on screen in seconds.
Müller stared at the image. “Can you give me a topographical view? I want to see what kind of terrain…”
She was doing it even as he spoke. “There,” she said. “3D.”
“Hmm,” he said. “One can drive almost close to it…about a kilometre’s walk away. Good. So what is this ‘Naked Mouse’? How did you come by it.”
“You were right in one sense, sir. The paper began as a school rag. Two friends used it to poke fun at the school authorities. But they also began to do some serious investigating. They actually got a teacher sacked for creative accounting…with his budget.”
“Bet that made them popular,” Pappenheim.
“It didn’t,” Hedi Meyer confirmed. “They nearly got thrown out, but their academic results were so good, it would have raised even more embarrassing questions.”
“So they took their skills into the outside world, and annoyed the establishment instead,” Müller said.
“Exactly, sir. They go into plenty of trouble, but the paper got so successful, they had a big support base. Lawyers defended them for free.”
“Lawyers working for nothing,” Carey Bloomfield put in. “That’s something.”
“They’re not American lawyers,” the Goth remarked mildly.
“Oh wow!” Carey Bloomfield exclaimed. “Did you see that arrow go by, Müller?”
“Goth?” Müller said to Hedi Meyer.
“Sir?”
“Behave.”
“Just joking.”
“Oh yeah,” Carey Bloomfield said.
“You too,” Müller told her. “Go on, Hedi.”
“A friend of mine – he’s a bit Left - collects old issues of the Mouse. I asked to borrow some 1982 issues. You’d think I was pulling his teeth with pliers. I almost had to insure my life, but he allowed me to take them on loan. I scanned them in, but couldn’t find anything. So I…mmm…got into a database…”
“You ‘got into a database’. That’s the part I don’t want to know about.”
She nodded. “That’s the part.”
“Alright, then. Fast forward.”
“It seems that the friends – despite being successful executives of the paper – decided to go back to what they loved doing best: investigating. They discovered discrepancies in the reports about the crash site.”
“Where are they now? Is the paper still running?”
“That’s the strange thing, sir. Less than a year later, the paper went out of business…”
“It folded? ”
“Yes, sir. But it gets stranger. One of them is dead. I can’t find out exactly how it happened; nor what has happened to the other one. Can’t say whether he’s still alive, or dead too. Nothing I have dug into, has come up with an answer. So far.”
“The paper had staff. What happened to them?”
“Working for other people, and not talking.”
Müller said nothing for some moments.
Pappenheim, hands in pockets, studied him watchfully.
Carey Bloomfield said, “You’re driving down to Grenoble.”
“Most definitely.”
“I’ll come.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I know I don’t have to. It’s an offer you’re not going to refuse.”
Müller said nothing to that.
“What were the names of those school friends?” he asked the Goth.
“Roger Montville, and Jean-Marc Lavaliere.”
Müller repeated the names to himself, then nodded, as if in confirmation of something. “That was excellent investigative work, Hedi.
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