Syndrome E

41

After dropping Lucie off, Sharko had sped to Nanterre. The young female detective had left a burning trace in his mind, an indelible presence that he found he couldn’t erase. He could still see her, wrapped in a towel, covered in foam, in his bathroom. Who would ever have thought that someday a woman would shower where Suzanne had once showered? Who would have thought that the sight of a semi-undressed body could once again make his heart race in his chest?

For now, he paced back and forth in his boss’s office. Lucie was far away, and his mind was on other matters. He was yelling at Leclerc, who was seated at his desk.

“We can’t just keep our mouths shut like this. Others have gone after the Foreign Legion before us.”

“And they all got shot down. Péresse and the boss feel the same way. You need to forget about your shortcut and get me something concrete. Josselin is willing to assign two investigators from Criminal to retrace Mohamed Abane’s steps from the moment he left his brother’s. That’s the only legal recourse we’ve got.”

“It’s going to take forever and it’ll get us nowhere. You know it as well as I do.”

Leclerc stretched his chin toward an express pouch lying in front of him.

“As I said on the phone, before you make the shit hit the fan bypassing Péresse, I got hold of the list of humanitarian groups who were in the Cairo area. We’ve got a few names, especially the mission leaders. But the thing that’s really interesting is the SIGN conference itself. Have a look…”

Martin Leclerc’s face was somber, closed off. He shuffled some papers needlessly and took care not to meet Sharko’s gaze. The chief inspector picked up the file and started reading:

“A Smile for the World’s Orphans, around thirty people. Planet Emergency, more than forty. SOS Africa, sixty… I’ll spare you the best ones…” He squinted. “March 1994, annual meeting of the Safe Injection Global Network. More than— More than three thousand persons from all over the world! WHO, UNICEF, UNAIDS, a ton of NGOs, universities, doctors, scientists, health professionals, people from industry… More than fifteen countries. But—what the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“March 1994 was the month and year of the murders, wasn’t it? We’re waiting for a detailed list of SIGN participants, which we should have later today. At first glance, it looks like between a hundred fifty and two hundred Frenchmen.”

“Two hundred…”

“As you see, we’re a long way from combat boots and flak jackets here. So let the Legion go for now—we’ve got enough on our plates as it is, with Canada, these lists, and the Abane investigation.”

Sharko leaned on the desk.

“What’s with you, Martin? We used to go at these things like bloodhounds, and today you’re burying it all under lists of names. Once upon a time, you would have been all over this.”

“Once upon a time…” Martin Leclerc sighed. His fingers clutched a sheet of paper, which he crumpled and tossed into the wastebasket. “It’s Kathia, Shark. I’m losing her.”

Sharko absorbed the blow, but deep down he’d been expecting it for several days now. Kathia and Martin Leclerc had always symbolized the very image of a stable couple, who had weathered so many storms that nothing could split them apart.

“It started with the Huriez case, didn’t it? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it is what it is…”

Sharko recalled every detail. One year earlier, cocaine smuggling near Fontainebleau. One of the small fry in the network gets pinched, Olivier Hussard, twenty years old. Kathia’s godson… She asked her husband to intervene, use his influence to get a lighter sentence. But Martin Leclerc was inflexible, faithful to the standard of his office.

Sharko had blamed himself. Carried away by his own demons, he hadn’t noticed anything wrong with his chief. He was the analyst who was supposed to recognize behavior patterns.

“I had a right to know, Martin.”

“You had a right to know? And what piece of shit rule gave you the right to know?”

“Our friendship, that’s all.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. In the distance they heard the roar of a motorcycle.

“I went to see the boss, Shark. Day before yesterday.”

“What? Don’t tell me you—”

“Yes. After this case, I’m resigning. I can’t hold on for eight more years, waiting for retirement with my guts in a knot. Not without her. She’s been staying at her sister’s for the last few days, and it’s driving me insane. And besides, can you see me growing old alone, like—”

He stopped short. Sharko stared at him.

“Like me, you mean?”

Leclerc took refuge in his stacks of papers, which he piled up, moved around, piled up again.

“You’re being a pain in my ass, Shark. Get out!”

The inspector detached himself from the desk, dazed. His eyes were slightly teary. Leclerc couldn’t imagine how badly his words had stung. Sharko clenched his fists.

“Do you know what your leaving means for me? For the few years I still have to go?”

Leclerc banged on the desk with his fist.

“Yes! Yes, of course I know! What do you think?”

This time, Leclerc stared his subordinate right in the eyes.

“Listen, I’ll do everything I can so that—”

“You’ll do nothing. If you leave, I’m gone, and you know that perfectly well. No one’s going to want an old, damaged cop. Not even in a closet somewhere. It’s as simple as that.”

Leclerc looked at his friend and shook his head.

“Please don’t hold a knife to my throat. It’s hard enough as it is.”

Shoulders stooped, Sharko finally headed for the door. He turned around when his hand was on the knob.

“When I lost my wife and daughter, you and Kathia were there for me. Whatever happens and whatever you decide, I’ll accept it. And now, you should go tell Josselin that I’m going home early to get some rest, because I’m hearing voices on all sides.”