Yet, here he was in a small patisserie, opposite two children who had recently destroyed several tanks. When he agreed to work for three weeks in France to cover for holidays this was not what he expected. The assignment was supposed to provide some experience of day-to-day consular activities in France, and yet here he was in a cake shop, surrounded by regular and special forces soldiers, with two armoured vehicles outside. When he had arrived they were loading extra ammunition for the heavy calibre machines guns on the armoured cars. It all looked very serious.
At first he introduced himself to Hector and Kate. They seemed quiet, but that was to be expected given their recent experiences. His warmth towards them had faded somewhat when he read the hastily-prepared French report. Hector was described as, ‘Pleasant, polite and energetic, with an aptitude for machinery, bombs and weapons,’ The report went on to praise Hector’s ability to quickly identify threats and his willingness to act without hesitation when using whatever he found to hand in the most violent way possible. It also described Hector as ‘easy to underestimate,’ pointing out the speed at which he had mastered both the controls of the plane he crash landed and the tank gun he had so recently fired. Keith Chatterton believed the high regard in which the author of the report evidently held Hector probably betrayed the author’s background, as someone who more often appraised soldiers or special forces candidates.
Kate was described as, ‘Mature, likeable and attractive. Calm in a crisis,’ The report also said she displayed characteristics suggesting the same high degree of intelligence her brother possessed. As he read further Keith Chatterton could see that author of the report clearly did not rate Kate as highly, stating that she displayed no inclination towards violent action. The report went on to describe Kate’s part in recent events, including the fact that she had probably gunned at least one plane out of the sky, and had demonstrated skill and calculation in navigating a tank during the recent battle. The report also praised her ‘sensible use’ of the blunt end of an axe head when dispatching a suspected assailant, commenting that the sharp end can so easily become embedded in the attacker’s skull making further assault more difficult.
Keith Chatterton could not understand how anyone who had recently shot down a plane, finished someone off with an axe and then driven a tank with some skill in a real encounter against four other tanks could not be considered at least potentially violent and dangerous. He suspected that the person who wrote the report was as myopic as the sports teacher at his school who had written that he had no aptitude for football, the day after he had scored a hat-trick for the B-team and been awarded Man-of-the-Match.
‘Mr Chatterton I presume,’ said Colonel Bertrand entering with a guard of two soldiers. Keith Chatterton was completely on the back foot. Nothing had prepared him for this, and he stuttered and stammered a reply.
‘Mr Chatterton, please, I do understand this is all a bit out of the ordinary,’ Colonel Bertrand continued, ‘As soldiers we are used to guns, bullets and violence, but even we are taken aback by all of this.’
‘Right, yes’ stammered Chatterton while glancing around at the bright and attractively tiled walls and floor, ‘I am sorry, no, I mean yes, I am grateful for the bravery of your troops in repelling the attack,’ he continued, lapsing into official speak, before continuing in a more honest tone, ‘I’ve read the report, but I do not understand why. To be honest, I don’t understand any of it.’
Colonel Bertrand quickly explained the situation, and Kate was surprised by how much he knew about her and Hector. He even knew the name of her school. He also explained that the tanks had been stolen from a farm, where they were kept by a collector. The farmer and his wife had been found dead. The men in the tanks were believed to be French, from Marseille. They were known criminals, who appeared to have been given money and other inducements.
A common theme, according to Bertrand, was the use of weapons, aircraft and vehicles stolen from collectors. He explained that in some ways it was a clever strategy, as there were many collectors who had all manner of old weapons, including ammunition.
It also became apparent to Kate and Hector that the document Mr Chatterton had been reading was a report on them. Colonel Bertrand apologised for the poor English, commenting that it was rushed and a little rough and ready.
Chatterton explained that he was there to make sure Kate and Hector were safe, and the Colonel explained that they were not safe, but he was doing all he could.
‘Shall we all take afternoon tea?’ said Colonel Bertrand. He saw their surprised faces.
‘We may be in France, but tea can still be found,’ the Colonel continued.
A short time later they were all sat around a small table, with the soldiers guarding them partly hidden by a mass of hanging flowers and other plants. It was a peculiar sight; a boy, a girl, an Army Officer and a well-dressed man in his thirties sat in a French cake and pastry shop surrounded by heavily armed troops, with the door guarded by two armoured vehicles.
Colonel Bertrand poured tea and explained how impressed he was by Kate’s composure under fire, and Hector’s indefatigability.
‘Did anyone die?’ Kate asked.
‘Well, you have to remember that they had come to kill you. They had money, we think they had been taking illegal drugs, and they would not have hesitated. One person died in the tank that turned over. Everyone in the tank shot from the shoulder-launched weapon died,’ said the Colonel.
‘I think Pierre fired that,’ said Hector.
‘Yes, he did well. He is very brave,’ the Colonel replied.
‘Did I kill anyone?’ asked Hector in a small voice.
‘No, Hector. You saved your sister, and I should say with her driving she saved you. You also saved the men on the range. They only had one missile,’ said the Colonel kindly.
‘Were they injured in the tanks?’ Hector asked in a slightly more confident tone, ‘The ones I shot’.
‘No Hector,’ said the Colonel kindly, ‘they all died.’
‘Sorry,’ said Hector, and for a moment he looked quite lost.
‘Hector, they killed themselves,’ said Colonel Bertrand, ‘They were set on murder, they killed a farmer and his wife. They could have tied them up and left them, but they murdered them instead. They took a tank onto a firing range and tried to kill you, your sister and the soldiers on the range. They had already signed their own death warrants. If you hadn’t hit them the helicopters that arrived moments later would have torn them apart.’
Hector looked worried and Kate put her hand on his shoulder. Hector felt shocked. What he did not say, but could not stop thinking about, were the pilots who had died. It was the first time that it hit Hector; he had already killed, but he had not given it a moment’s thought. It had been like a game. Now it felt more real and more frightening.
‘Hector,’ continued the Colonel, ‘it is good that you are worried about someone dying. It is not a good thing that anyone should be killed. Very few of the men under my command will ever have to kill anyone, and almost all that do find that it troubles them. It should have never fallen on your shoulders, and for that I am very sorry. But remember, you did not seek them out. You were having a treat with your sister and they tried to kill you.’
Chatterton was warming to Kate and Hector, and beginning to realise that whatever their extraordinary experiences and background, they were not the violent sociopaths the misleading report had suggested.
‘Hector,’ Chatterton said, ‘I have no experience of guns and tanks, but you were the one who, just by chance had the means of stopping these people. Is this correct Colonel?’
‘Oui, quite correct.’