— Is that her? Ask one of the masked police officers.
— I don't know, she slit her wrists.
— We have to find his chip! Nobody move! You're under arrest, ma'am, face down on the ground!
The policeman literally crushes the girl's face with his black boot. For a second, the girl's eyes meet Claire's, who can't stand to see her treated that way.
— You're hurting me!
— You little whore, stop acting!
— Hold on, chief, we found her," one of his teammates said, handing him the bloody chip that the young woman had extracted from herself.
The policeman scans her with his arm gloved in thick black leather and is patient.
— Shit, that's a long time. Shitty connection. Okay, I got it! It's her. It's her.
Meanwhile, the girl's face is still glued to the ground in the blood trail. Another policeman puts a translucent gel on her arm, which heals and stops the bleeding.
— Ms. Lizzie Angeletti, you're under arrest for sedition and attempted murder of persons in authority.
Claire is petrified, if she intervenes, it's her own plan that she risks jeopardizing. The cops might take her away, too, for rebellion. No one looks, no one moves, in the train, everyone is transfixed by fear. The young girl, carried by four dogs, is taken out. Claire feels like she's seeing Lana, who's older. She's as blonde as she is, and her eyes are deep blue. Julie, her cheek stained with her blood, screams: "Wake the fuck up!". Claire crosses the eyes of an elderly lady, who seems affected by what is happening to the insurgent. A man in his sixties, with a potbelly belly, badly shaved, bald head, speaks out just before the metro doors close: "Shut up, bitch, it's because of morons like you that we're in this mess!". No one picks up, the guy looks like a filthy fool, but foolishness leads to violence, so everyone keeps quiet. The subway doors are closing. The stupid man looks for an approving look in the crowd, who look down. So Claire goes back to her reading, too, with her heart beating. The train, stuck in the bowels of Paris, turns on completely, vibrates, and starts up again. Only a few traces of dried blood on the floor still bear witness to the scene that has just unfolded before her eyes.
Only six more stations before Bastille, and she'll be able to change metro. Before the incident, there was the silence of resignation. Now there is the silence of fear.
Chapter 6
Claire makes the connection smoothly, at full throttle, without stopping. Line one is deserted. When she lived in Paris, it was overrun with tourists and suitcases, but the unstable political situation in France has driven them all away. The old automatic metro brakes, and stops at the Gare de Lyon station. She climbs the stairs four by four, passes the security gate, and then the escalators. Arriving at the top, she crosses a thick grey cloud: it's the only place where smokers can grill one last one before the trip. Since the THC legalization law came into force, station entrances stink of cannabis, cheaper than tobacco, which is overtaxed. Claire instantly starts looking for a redheaded woman with smooth hair and a red scarf. She has only one desire: to leave this hellish city as soon as possible. She slows down her pace, sweeping her gaze through the crowd of hurried travellers as her heart races. In the distance, a young redheaded woman stands out from the swarming mass, staring at it with her green eyes.
That's her. She looks strangely like the woman of his dream. Did she see her on Erwan's tablet last night? She feels like she knows her.
Claire focuses on this person, only two hundred metres away, and does not notice that two men and a woman have appeared on her side, armed with official police cards. This time, they do not hide their faces. They are all plainclothes officers. Other officers in uniform gradually form a protective circle around her.
It's like the whole world is staring at her.
— Claire? Claire Sautet? Do the one that looks like the detective.
— No, there's been a mistake. I'm Celine Trudeau, I'm a journalist.
— Come on, follow us, don't make a fuss!
Claire lets herself go, around her, suspicious looks are legion. And already, the young redheaded woman in the red scarf has vanished into the crowd. Claire is handcuffed and quickly escorted to the station where she loses all notion of time and space. The forces of law and order are reinforced: a company of military sentries surround them, armed with large calibres to the point. In a few minutes, she is put into an army truck, in the back of a windowless vehicle. She's chained up, like a commoner warned.
— Where are you taking me?
No one's answering him.
A female voice stands out from the shadows. A woman wearing a bun and military uniform approaches her.
— I'm a doctor, are you in any pain from the arrest. Are you under any special treatment?
— No, it's okay. Where are you taking me?
— I can't tell you that.
— Why was I arrested? Insist, Claire.
The female doctor is subjected to the heavy gaze of the six soldiers, all men, sitting next to Claire. The woman answers him curtly.
— I'm going to ask you to shut up, and that's the last time I'm going to speak to you politely.
Claire doesn't know how long she has been driving, but it was a short trip and it seems she hasn't left Paris. The back doors of the truck open. The vehicle is in a garage, with a high concrete ceiling lit by neon lights.
A high-ranking man with a black look and very white skin is waiting for him. He is tall and very thin.
— Welcome Madame Claire Sautet, welcome to the bowels of Paris! I am General de Saint-Germain. Here you are safe, there are several tons of concrete above our heads. This building is designed to withstand a nuclear attack, you have the honour of visiting the bunker in the Jardin des Tuileries.
— Visiting? I didn't receive an invitation card as far as I know.
— Mind! Follow me, I'll show you to your quarters.
— Am I under arrest?
— Listen Claire, in high places, I was asked to be careful with your little face and not to... damage you too much. Of course, I don't want to go to those awkward extremes any more than you do. So it's very simple: either you give us your boss, or we'll eliminate Benedict. Now follow me. Untie her!
— Aye, aye, sir.
Claire feels the earth slipping away from under her feet. She travels long, cramped corridors, where dozens of military personnel are busy with unknown tasks. She is locked in a cubic room, with a plastic glass of water on a single metal chair fixed to the floor. The female doctor who had been with them from the beginning ties him to the chair and closes the door. It's just her and the Commander.
— Go ahead, scream, the room is soundproof.
— Excuse me?
— Scream! No one can hear you. I asked you a question earlier. A simple question, which requires a simple answer: Where is your boss?
— Don't hurt my husband and children or you'll regret it.
— What? Threats? Were you not treated with the respect and honors due to a refined lady such as yourself?
While speaking, General de Saint-Germain unties his leather belt. Claire, cannot help but watch him do it, crossed on all sides by horrible thoughts.
— I'm not going to waste my time with you. We found Benedict and the kids, they're safe.
— Prove it!
— But of course... Here.
General de Saint-Germain hands him a cell phone.
— Benedict? Hello, Benedict? It's Claire, where are you?
— Claire, it's me! The kids are fine, we're in a police station, I'm not allowed to tell you where. We're fine. We're waiting for you.
Claire's getting an echo.
— Benedict, is that you? Is it really you?
— Yeah, whatever you did, come back, I love you.
— Did they hurt you? Did the kids?
— Anything wrong? No !
The General's cutting off the conversation.
— All right, that'll do it. You see, we're not barbarians. On the contrary,
we fight them. I have in front of me someone - you - who tried to kill, in cold blood, our President Michèle Desrivières at the risk of tipping France into anarchy and causing thousands of deaths. I am asking you the question one last time, politely.
The Commander loses his temper and starts screaming.
— Where is the leader of the rebellion?!
— I don't know! I swear I don't! I don't know what you're talking about.
— The night Michèle asked you to meet her at the Elysée Palace, you ran away, remember? Your arrest, when you tried to leave under an assumed name?
— I got scared! May I remind you that I was the only survivor of a terrorist attack? That I was on the roof when the President's campaign headquarters was blown up? Are you going to accuse me of blowing it up too, while we're at it? Yeah, I walked away. I left because I got scared, I got anxious, and I wandered the streets of Paris. And at dawn, I made the decision to leave this crazy world, and people like you!
— Good. Don't think I like doing what I'm about to do. Lift up your dress.
— What?
— You heard me loud and clear!
Claire's shaking like a leaf. Her dress is up to her knees.
— Stop, no higher, I'm not a pervert.
Without warning, the general hits him in the legs with the belt, with all his might. Claire screams. He hits her five times.
— Claire, answer me! Where is Erwan?!
Chapter 7
Claire is lying on a makeshift bed in the dark. She has bandages on her legs. The pain returns to her bruised body. Little by little she remembers how she got there. We've come to wake her up. It's the lady doctor with the bun. She's talking in a low voice.
— Claire, do you recognize me?
— Yes, I think so," she said, fluttering her eyes.
— I'm the one who took care of you.
— I-I don't remember anything.
— You have been the victim of a psychological shock that has led to a distancing from your body. You've suffered too much trauma. It's as if you've caused yourself to faint.
— He--he--
— No. I arrived when you fell. You couldn't see me, I was looking at you through a clear window. I'm on your side. Even here, you have allies.
— Allies?
— Yeah, more than you think. We're gonna get you out of here, but we gotta move fast.
— Whoever you are, I want out of here. I'm right behind you. There's no way I'm staying here.
— Put this on.
Claire undresses under the gaze of the woman doctor, who seems disturbed by her beauty. She looks away.
— You haven't told me your first name, ask the young woman for Claire.
— The less you know, the better for all of us. But... I'm Julie," she said, staring at the wall.
The two women in military dress cross the base, relatively asleep, illuminated as in submarines to signify the night: by a red light. Claire has a regulation bun, and the adrenaline makes her forget the pain her legs give her. Julie gets into an unmarked sentry vehicle. Her doctor's pass allows her to go wherever she wants without being asked.
— She's with me," says Julie, referring to Claire at the last underground checkpoint.
— Ah yes, we wouldn't have guessed it," the soldier of the night guard retorted, jaded.
The car comes out of the buried base safely, then Claire goes back to the Rue de Rivoli. She had forgotten she was in the middle of Paris.
Life didn't stop out there, and no one's looking for it.
— I want my husband back.
— Ma'am, I took all the risk for you, take me to Erwan.
— But I've already told your superior, I have no idea where he is! Last I heard, he was dead! You want to know where he is? Go to the Caucade Cemetery in Nice. Now get me out of Paris, I want to see my husband, I want to see my children.
Julie's cell phone is ringing.
Julie's staring at her.
— No, she doesn't know anything.
Claire understands it's been a setup from the beginning, Julie is not on her side. She's just being tricked into talking. She instantly tries to open the side door, but nothing works.
— Yes, I'll bring her back to you, sir.
— Bitch!
— Those are the orders, I'm just following them.
— Disobey, take me to my husband, I had nothing to do with your conspiracy, I had no idea that anyone had tried to assassinate the President!
— You'll explain it to the General. I'm sure he'll understand. I'll be l...
Suddenly, it is the side accident, a truck comes and violently hits the two women's car, the doctor-woman dies on the spot, despite the airbags. The doors of the sentry car unlock instantly. There is white smoke everywhere. Claire is in shock. She is in the street, walking like a ghost. The car has hit a street clock, whose dial has come off, and smashed the front of an antique astronomy shop. The store alarm screamed. She feels like she's having a nightmare. But no one comes to stop her. The streets are deserted because of the curfew. She is alone walking on the pavement, yet the military are nearby. The atmosphere seems unreal. It has rained recently, the damp streets reflect the lights of the city. Her instinct tells her to move away from the car, backing away, faster and faster. Suddenly, a man's hand comes to grab her, in the night, Claire doesn't utter a shout.
She recognizes his scent.
It's Erwan himself. On his face, a make-up of geometric signs.
— Follow me, I won't let you go!
Chapter 8
The two silhouettes flee into the streets of sleepy Paris. Claire is miraculously unharmed, once again, but her lacerated legs hurt her terribly. Erwan pulls out a tube of black make-up and very quickly draws the same geometric patterns he wears on Claire's face. The couple walks fast, but doesn't run, so as not to arouse the suspicions of local residents and surveillance cameras. At this distance, they can still discern the sirens of firemen, ambulances. Only a few more meters to reach the extraction point: an American secret service vehicle, parked not far away. Erwan and Claire run to tear their lungs out, but the breath of freedom gives them the necessary vitality.
— It's this vehicle, it's open. There's no risk, it's a "white street", that means there's no surveillance camera. The autonomous car was parked there 4 days ago, we have a few of them in the capital and they turn regularly, otherwise we find them at the impound. The rear windows are smoked, we're safe, we'll wait here for an hour, and then we'll leave.
— How about right now?
— Because the police computers have the means to track the trajectory of thousands of vehicles that have driven in the Rivoli neighbourhood. They could find us. Even days later.
At this point, a stand-alone truck from the impound yard slowly moves down the street and scans all the plates.
— Look, another one of those damn self-contained machines.
Claire doesn't even look at her. She looks at Erwan and takes his hand.
— Thank you," she says gratefully.
— No. This time it was me who failed, I was sure you'd leave without a problem, I don't know what went wrong. I feel like the military AI learned some new abilities, but I have no idea how they do it.
— Nice makeup, is it for the urban jungle?
— That's exactly what camouflage is. With this, in theory, the surveillance cameras can't identify our faces.
— The bunker under Rivoli is their command center.
— Yeah, it's an old bunker that's always been used for transmissions. Today it houses one of the largest silicon brains in the French army, perhaps the largest.
— Erwan, I spoke to Benedict on the phone. He's being held prisoner. If I don't surrender, they're going to kill them.
— They're safe, I've heard from them.
— But that's impossible, they were prisoners!
— They're artificial voices, they're safe, you can take my word for it, I spoke to Benedict personally on the phone.
&
nbsp; — You? When? I want to talk to him! Did you tell him who you really are?
— No, I'll let you say it. It's not my place to do this.
— The kids, are they okay?
— Yes, they're in the country. I won't tell you where, but they've been exfiltrated by the Americans. They're the only ones with an AI powerful enough to fool ours. I wouldn't be here without their help. They've been watching you the whole time on your mission. You're probably wondering why the helicopter found you so quickly? You were safe. I mean... that's not what I meant. I'm sorry. We didn't plan the explosion.
The Last President- The Complete Trilogy Page 13
