Dead Horsemeat

Friday 27 October 1989

Daquin has come in to work very early on the diskette found at Annick’s place. Frankfurt stock exchange, Tuesday 19 September 1989, fluctuations in A.A. Bayern’s share values. Interesting, the company for which Pama has just made a takeover bid. Pass this on to Lavorel, if… But first of all, carefully plan how he’s going to tell his inspectors that he’s been told to go on leave. Romero and Lavorel. A slice of his life. At this precise moment, the most important. He’s playing for high stakes.

The inspectors arrive. Daquin points to the board.

‘I received these yesterday morning, sent anonymously.’ Le Dem turns pink and stares at the floor. Daquin annoyed. ‘I did chat up this guy in a bar in the Marais a few days ago. These photos aren’t rigged. You can look at them, Le Dem. Of course, I didn’t know who he was until I found myself staring at his corpse, last Wednesday. This guy is Michel Nolant.’ Romero recalls Daquin’s shattered look in the ransacked bedroom. ‘Naturally, the same evening I informed Inspector Bourdier who’s in charge of the investigation.’ A pause. ‘Just as well. And I think I’m impervious to this kind of blackmail because I’ve always been open about my taste for boys. But that’s not all. First of all, the director of the Drugs Squad received the same photos at the same time. And he’s decided to send me off on leave, pending the results of an internal inquiry. I’m only here today because he gave me permission to inform you myself of his decision.’

Romero and Lavorel exchange glances.

‘We resign.’

‘Don’t get carried away. I’m not sure what to do myself.’

‘You know very well that you can’t go off on holiday. Not after all this.’ Romero points to the photos. No need to spell it out.

‘It’s true that if I agree, I’m finished. But the enemy is a big fish. I think that a certain Deluc is behind this intimidation effort…’

‘The kid’s father?’

‘Yes, the kid’s father. Presidential advisor. In all likelihood, he’s the person who had me followed and photographed – by one of our chaps, incidentally – and who had someone tell the chief to sideline me. With one major question mark: did he go so far as to have Nolant killed simply to give his blackmail attempt more weight? And yesterday evening, he invited me to work directly with him, at the Élysée. Don’t worry, Lavorel, I said no.’

‘What does he want?’

‘It’s obvious. To protect Perrot and Pama. Especially Perrot, I’d say.’

‘Chief, if you drop this now, I’m going back to being a delinquent. And with the experience I’ve gained thanks to you, I think I still have time to make a brilliant career at it.’

‘What about you, Le Dem, what do you think?’

‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while. A farrier is murdered. We nab a horse trader and a vet. All in the trade. Everybody’s delighted. Although I was shocked, I believe it was right. But when we get to the fat-cat financiers and politicians, they stop us. I don’t know how to explain this but I take it as an affront to men like me.’

‘How far have you got with the chauffeur’s supplier?’

‘We’ve found him. It’s the grocer on the corner. A hundred metres from the concierge’s lodge. A Moroccan. He received some heroin in orange juice cartons from Holland. We nicked one from him. It’s in the cupboard in our office.’

Daquin remains silent for a while. Efficient, they really are efficient.

‘Romero, make us a coffee. We’ll carry on the conversation afterwards.’

The all get up. A fifteen-minute break, then Daquin goes on:

‘I’m going to try and sum up. You’ll see, it’s not straightforward. One thing is certain: we’ve smashed an international cocaine ring that goes from Colombia to Italy via France, and arrested those directly running the operation, which isn’t bad going compared with some of our colleagues’ recent operations… A hunch: Transitex is only one link in a much wider network, as is suggested by the involvement of Ballestrino, a major player, as is suggested by the murder of Paola Jiménez, and which explains the pressure to have us pulled off the investigation. Remember, Romero, Aubert told us a whole story about meetings with Colombians to do with horses. A good lie always includes an element of truth. Like Ballestrino, the Ochoas breed horses. Imagine that the Colombians and the Italians, at high level, used the cover of a race meeting to arrange a summit meeting, on 9^th July at Longchamp, in the owners’ enclosure, which Jiménez chanced to witness. We’ve seen the bosses meet in the luxury hotels and casinos of the Riviera.’

‘In that case, why would Paola call me, and not her CIA contact?’

‘Good question. Le Dem, you should block your ears to protect your innocence. Suppose that Paola Jiménez did happen upon a meeting between the Colombians, the Italians and her CIA contact… She must have realised her life was in danger.’

Romero shudders. He hears the breathless voice on the phone. He sees the sun, the naked girl on the carpet. Daquin smiles at him.

‘It’s probably because you were late that you’re still alive. As far as this aspect of the case is concerned, you can see we’re completely in the dark, so we’ll ignore it, at least for the time being. And we’ll concentrate on the French ramifications of Transitex. Now, we have a clearer idea of the Pama conglomeration’s internal organisation. Perrot controls Deluc whom he’s known for a long time.’ Quizzical looks from Romero and Lavorel. ‘They met in 1972-73, in Beirut. He uses him for his property deals, like those in the Bastille district, but above all, he’s used him at least twice to protect Transitex: to get the tax inspectors to come down on Moulin, and to put a stop to our investigation. So Transitex is him. He must have an equally important role within Pama. He goes in as a shareholder, two years ago, at the point when Jubelin decides to ally himself with the Italians to take control. It figures that he acted as intermediary between Jubelin and Ballestrino, who’s an associate of his in Transitex. He could also have introduced Thirard to Jubelin. And he’s the prime mover behind Pama’s new focus on the property sector, which I imagine serves as a front for money laundering operations. I’m leaving out Nolant’s murder. I don’t know how that fits in with the rest.

‘If I’m more or less on the right track, our situation isn’t hopeless. We have three lines of attack. First of all, definitely, the chauffeur. Romero and Le Dem, you contact Dubanchet and his team. We have similar working methods, and he knows that I’ve been put on leave. Tell him about the grocer, and catch him red-handed. In other words, from now on, don’t let the chauffeur’s wife out of your sight and nab them when she comes in for supplies.

‘But we’re not dropping Pama. Lavorel, I’m giving you this diskette. I found it at Annick Renouard’s place the day Nolant was murdered. It’s a listing over one day, the 19^th September last year, of the share prices of A.A. Bayern, a company for which Pama has just made a takeover bid. See if you can make any sense of it.

‘And lastly, I’ll go off on leave as soon as this meeting is over, I have no choice, and I’ll make use of the time to dig up more on Deluc and try and grasp the nature of his links with Perrot.

‘We won’t meet here again. You can reach me at home, it’s up to you to stay in touch. If anyone asks, you don’t know where I am. And if the chief gives you a job, you do it.’ A smile. ‘I’d be surprised. He’ll try and avoid pissing you off, at least for a few days. And as the saying goes: May God watch over and protect us all. We need that at least.’

Daquin rises and takes down the photos of Michel from the cork board. He’ll keep them. As a souvenir.

Duroselle tells himself it’s a nightmare when, on leaving his office, he sees Daquin walking towards him, elegant as ever, with a big, friendly smile.

‘I was waiting for you. What a pleasure to see you again. Come, I’m inviting you for lunch.’

Duroselle apologises to his colleagues, and follows Daquin with a sinking heart.

A tiny restaurant full of provincial charm. Astonishing, less than 30 kilometres from Paris. An elderly woman, of slight build and well-preserved, with a black choker round her neck (like my grandmother in a remote part of the Nivernais, more than 30 years ago, incredible), comes over and proposes coddled eggs or grated carrots. Two coddled eggs and a Beaujolais.

Daquin observes Duroselle. The look of the defeated. I’ve got him in the palm of my hand. Too easy to be any fun. So let’s make it quick.

‘I’ve come to give you news of the Moulin case.’

‘I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again.’

‘It’s true, I promised. But there have been some new developments. First of all, the person behind Moulin’s tax inspection, a man called Thirard, is well and truly a killer. But that’s not all. He’s also an international drugs smuggler. As a matter of fact, I’ve arrested him.’

‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

A strangled cry. Daquin thinks he can hear Duroselle’s teeth chattering. He calmly finishes his coddled egg.

‘That’s not so certain. In searching Thirard’s place we found a note about Moulin’s tax inspection which mentions your name, and only your name.’

‘What would you like as a main course, gentlemen? Rabbit or beef bourguignon?’

‘Rabbit, that’ll make a nice change. What about you, Duroselle?’ He nods, no longer able to speak. ‘Two rabbits please. I’ll continue. If this note is made public, one way or another, your superiors will see it as the ideal way of getting you to carry the can for this unfortunate tax inspection ordered from outside. And they’ll succeed. That is, unless we find the drug dealer’s real accomplice, and that’s where you can help us.’

A very mediocre cheese, a piece of chalky Camembert. Rural apple tart. I won’t risk the coffee. A little plum brandy maybe?

‘So Duroselle, you’re not saying anything?’

‘What do you want, you bastard?’

‘It’s very simple. I give you a name and an address. Christian Deluc, Quai d’Orléans, Paris. By the day after tomorrow, I want his tax records from 1981 onwards. And within a few days, you’ll be beyond suspicion once and for all. You couldn’t ask for more, could you?’

Lavorel drops in to see Daquin at the end of the day. It’s the first time he’s been to the Villa des Artistes. He feels ill at ease, this isn’t his world. He prefers Daquin in his office, at HQ.

‘Interesting, the diskette. On that day, A.A. Bayern’s share price collapsed.’

‘I’d gathered that.’

‘Those shares were bought at rock-bottom prices by various financial companies based in Luxembourg and Guernsey. They were probably acting as fronts, but a long inquiry would be needed to find out who’s behind them. When Pama announced its public tender offer, they immediately tendered their A.A. Bayern shares at the offered price and have thus more than doubled their money in the space of just a few weeks.’

‘Is that illegal?’

‘Yes, insider dealing. But it’s common. It takes five years’ investigation to get a suspended fine.’

‘A bit controversial?’

‘Not at all, chief. With all due respect, sir, I don’t think you quite get it. These days, it’s no longer a crime to make a fortune illegally. It’s a proof of intelligence and good taste. Only losers stay poor in the ’80s.’

‘Let’s get back to the subject, Lavorel.’

‘If we look at A.A. Bayern, it gets even better. During the first two hours of monitoring, the price remained stable. Then it began to plummet, and finally collapsed. On inquiring further, the owner of thirty per cent of the capital suddenly sold everything. Does that ring any bells’

‘Transitex?’

‘Exactly. Only much bigger. The person watching the prices knew they were going to collapse that day, although there was nothing to suggest it. It looks like a forced sale, with the involvement of the person who saved that information onto the diskette. Madame Renouard, perhaps. You found it at her place, didn’t you?’

‘That’s right. I say, Lavorel, how do you fancy a few days’ holiday in Munich?’