The Last President- The Complete Trilogy

by Christophe Martinolli

  — Okay, when do we join them?

  — When we get the job done.

  — We?

  — Yes, that was the condition.

  — But why us?

  — Because not many people believe in the return of democracy anymore, and whether we like it or not, it is a war between human beings. And if we leave, if we refuse, who will? Is that what you want? To live like a fugitive for the rest of your life? We've got death threats, I'm not going to tell you, they didn't spare you... There's no turning back. We have to get rid of her before she becomes too powerful. Shit, are you in pain?

  — No, it's okay," said Claire, making a face. I don't care. I don't care. You weren't there, but I gave birth to Lana.

  — All right. All right, all right. Okay, do Erwan, swallowing his saliva. So, listen. Almost all of the French secret service is under Michèle's orders, the others have been liquidated. A lot has happened that the French don't know about since Laurent Terrier died. And... please don't remind me, I wish I'd been there with you when Lana was born.

  — Okay, sorry. So what's the plan? Just get it over with!

  — Bilderberg.

  — What? Bilderberg7 ? You mean they're responsible? Them? But it's not in their interest! They were for Laurent's United States of Europe, he was their best man.

  — Exactly! It's some of them I'm working for now. Michèle has many enemies. She fooled them all, Laurent first. He didn't see it coming. He was married to his worst enemy. It was his ex-wife, the mother of his children. It was he who put her in charge of the Senate Presidency: he dug her grave himself! She is a sovereignist pure juice, a Bonapartist. She accuses the Bilderbergs of being collectively responsible for the mismanagement in which France and Europe find themselves. But she also needs them, at least temporarily. The next annual meeting will take place at our house, at her invitation. It is the last chance meeting and we know that she will come in person. She hates them all, but she needs them to start a war.

  — A war?!

  — Yes, it's confirmed, against the old Russian block. China has let them down, they are too unstable and they will not intervene until they are guaranteed access to gas. They've been an easy target since they've managed to penetrate all their computers. The situation here is in danger of getting out of hand. She intends to mobilize all men and women of fighting age who are thinking only of revolt. She is preparing to declare war by making it look like the attack on her field headquarters, the one where you almost lost your life, was attacked by the Russians.

  — The Russians are not our enemies! Affirms Claire.

  — Our enemies are internal.

  — What about us in there? What do we do?

  — We're going.

  Chapter 9

  The autonomous car is waking up. The engine heats up. Paris is still asleep. Claire and Erwan have fallen asleep in the back, under blankets.

  — You have ordered your trip, make yourself comfortable, and please fasten your seat belts.

  — Claire, Claire, wake up. The car's about to leave.

  Claire is slowly waking up, coming to her senses. She has pain everywhere. She sits down, painfully, and removes her make-up.

  — Fasten your seat belt, or she won't leave.

  — Where are we going?

  — In the country.

  — Are we going to find them?

  — Yeah. Don't worry, the car knows the way. As much as I hate these machines, without it, I couldn't have made the perfect accident that saved your life.

  — Stay in the back, I'll sit behind the wheel. I'll be your luxury driver.

  — You talk, you won't even drive.

  — Yeah, I'm kidding, but it's mandatory in the city, and it's good cover for us. It's a U.S. Diplomatic Corps car. It's registered to the U.S. Embassy by IACar.

  The car makes its own way out of the square and into the roadway.

  — Radio France.

  — All right, sir, answer the car.

  The radio turns on instantly and announces the early morning news. It's ten past six. In many cities, such as Lyon, Nice, Marseille, and Lille, clashes with the police have taken place, causing dozens of injuries, several hundred car fires, and businesses burned down.

  — The lull was short-lived... Bitterly notes Claire.

  — Yeah, and this time it's worse.

  — Erwan.

  — What?

  — Did you think about me while you were in exile?

  Erwan looks at Claire's reflection in the mirror.

  — Yeah, all the time.

  — I thought about you every day. Lana has your eyes. Every time I looked at her, you were the one I saw. She's so beautiful. She's got your brains too.

  — No, you're the smart one.

  — Erwan, I want to know.

  — Tell me.

  — Do you still love me?

  Erwan swallows his saliva, looks at the road as if he was driving, then again Claire's face.

  — Yeah, I'm not gonna lie to you.

  — I love Benedict.

  — I understand, you had a life. I was... dead.

  — I was sure it wasn't, but I made room to meet someone else, and Benedict arrived. He didn't impose, he gave me all the time I needed to... get used to it. He loves me madly, and it feels so good to be loved. He's such a beautiful person.

  — Do you love him?

  — Yes.

  When Erwan slept side by side, body to body, in this car for a few hours, he could smell his smell, hear his breathing, look at the reflection of light in his hair. He never stopped loving her, but he couldn't force her to be loved again. Yet he could sense that Claire had been overwhelmed by the news of her survival. Has she totally stopped loving him back?

  In the back, Claire watches the walls of the capital march past. The autonomous car approaches the Place de la Bastille. When she was young, she demonstrated there. Today, all demonstrations are forbidden. When did the changeover take place? Is Laurent Terrier's death the beginning or the end of a long, deaf and pernicious process that no one was able to anticipate? She too was convinced that the very idea of the United States of Europe was going to end up imposing itself, not by force, but by the need to live together in the peace of Nations. What vanity to have wanted peace in a continent that has known nothing but war for thousands and thousands of years. War without end. She, her parents and grandparents will therefore have experienced an enchanting parenthesis. The car enters the square, turns around the central column under restoration and drives towards the Gare de Lyon. In 1789, it was the alliance between the commoners and the bourgeoisie that had overthrown the King. The bourgeoisie took power and restored, little by little, all the privileges that it had been honouring to the aristocrats, the well-born. A few years ago, private courts appeared. It was the return of feudalism: one does not erase with a stroke of the pen, she was the one who wrote the Constitution, a thousand years of the Ancien Régime. Money grants privileges, once reserved for the nobles. The new lords, to avoid a public trial, pay, when the deer that steals a packet of biscuits ends up in prison.

  — What are you thinking about? Ask Erwan, who can see that Claire is lost in thought.

  — To injustice. Is the human being evil by nature? Are we only educated beasts? Can't we stop predation? Is it written so deeply in our genes?

  — You haven't changed!

  — What... (Sighs)

  — See, that's what I like about you, you're one of the few grown-up people who hasn't lost her ideals.

  Claire smiles.

  — You either, or you wouldn't be here pretending to drive your ex-wife around trying to save France when all the police are looking for you?

  — Indeed!

  — So are you gonna tell me where we're going?

  — As soon as we get out of Paris, I promise.

  Chapter 10

  Paris is slowly slipping away. The autonomous vehicle has entered the southern motorway, and is driving peacefully, avoiding the semi-au
tonomous trucks remotely controlled by operators.

  — We're going to Lyon. More precisely in Saint-Laurent de Mûre, where Benedict, Lana and Théophile took refuge.

  — What about Bilderberg? The secret meeting?

  — In La Clusaz, in Savoy. We will officially be part of the American delegation, the Prime Secretary will be there.

  — The President of the United States too?

  — No, not that I know of.

  — But are you sure no one will recognize us? Maybe we'll meet some old colleagues?

  — Theoretically no, we've ruled them out. And Michèle's staff is young, we've been forgotten. For them, we're the Ancien Régime.

  — All right, but Michèle's team, the General Secretary for example, he knows me!

  — No, he won't be there. Michèle's going with very few people, so it won't be an official trip.

  — But do you really think she doesn't suspect? I mean, her head of security will be there, too. Of course, there'll be the secret agents. They'll know who I am.

  — Yes, and that's why you're going.

  — I figured I'd get screwed.

  — They're not certain it was you who caused the explosion.

  — But I got away!

  — Yes, of course, a lot of people think you're guilty. But you didn't spill the beans, and you were relatively untouched by the interrogation. Presumably it was Michèle herself who didn't think you were involved.

  — All right, so it's all based on a bundle of probabilities. Great, just great.

  — This time I'll be there. I'll be right with you. I'll be right with you. I've been training for five years. Do you trust me?

  — Do I have a choice?

  — Claire...

  — Okay, I'm done, that's it. I'm gonna have to call him at some point, right?

  — Absolutely. It's planned, we'll take a lunch break while the IaCar recharges and we'll pick up an encrypted phone at the highway restaurant. You'll call Michèle.

  — And what do I tell him?

  — That you've been kidnapped, isn't that right?

  — By who, the cops or you?

  — By the cops. You're not lying. She'll know.

  — It's delusional, what about the accident?

  — Attacks on army sentries' cars are frequent. You waited until you were safe to settle the score with her.

  — Good... I love it.

  — We're getting close. Claire, you're gonna make it, I have no doubt about it. You're the only one who can do it. You got close to her once, you can do it. We have to stop her.

  IACar's female voice resonates in the cabin.

  — I suggest you take a little break for an hour while I recharge. Take the opportunity to stretch your legs and eat a bite to eat.

  — A piece? Lance Claire, but that car sounds like my grandmother!

  Chapter 11

  The IACar is parked in the location of the autonomous cars near the quick-charging stations. From the motorway area, the spectacle is even more obvious: dozens of driverless trucks no longer stop, and drive day and night. They have their own areas, also guarded day and night by robotic sentries. There are still a few humans to service and clean the tables in the fast food restaurant, but for how much longer? Robotisation has been meteoric. In a few years, France has lost millions of jobs. Laurent Terrier had been narrowly re-elected, but he had been accused of plunging the country into mass unemployment without paying attention to education. It is on this smoking pot that the country has been seized by grumbling; it is a revolt of the intelligentsia. The defeated of the digital against the handful of the strong who govern them, helped by silicon brains. Michèle Desrivières has understood this very well, and thinks she represents that France, the France of the left out, of those who feel they have lost the war against robots. Claire finishes her fruit overwrapped in organic plastic. Erwan went to the toilet. A waitress comes to meet him and puts a ticket on the table.

  — Here you go, madam, that'll be nine euros and fourteen cents.

  — I pay cash.

  — I don't take any more cash," she said, pointing to the little sign.

  — Ah, sorry, I didn't see that.

  — You're gonna have to get used to it. In six months there won't be any physical change.

  — I know, I know, I know.

  — I'll pay," said Erwan, who had just come back from the bathroom. I take both meals.

  Erwan pulls out his phone and validates with his thumbprint. The waitress leaves without a thank you.

  — Friendly as a prison door... At least a robot would have pretended to be polite.

  — It is one of the last privileges of humans!

  — And where'd you get that brand-new smartphone you just paid for?

  — I... found it in the bathroom.

  — In the bathroom, well, there's some interesting things there.

  — That's your phone.

  — I don't remember misplacing it in the men's room...

  — Impossible, it's really not your style. Here, to call Michèle. And if I give you a piece of advice: yell at her, she'll love it. She likes power relationships.

  — I hadn't noticed!

  — The point is, she's taking you into the secret meeting. And you tell her you're bringing your personal secretary.

  — You.

  — Yes, me, of course!

  — You've already met her, if I'm not mistaken, right?

  — Yes.

  — I'm sure she remembers your face. Aren't you afraid she might recognize you?

  — It's a risk I have to take, but I'm not supposed to run into her in person. You're the only one who'll be able to get up close and personal with her. There are several levels of clearance in Bilderberg meetings. You can't have anything metallic: no watches, no jewelry, no phones, of course. And they themselves provide you with an absorbable chip for the three days of the meeting.

  — I need to know, before I call him, how far we're supposed to go in there.

  — All the way to the end, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, we're going to poison her and I want to watch her die in the eyes, like a crushed dog.

  Claire finishes her coffee, and watches the marc at the bottom of the cup for a long time. When she was little, a fortune-teller predicted that she would have two great loves, and that she would be influential. Can you read the future in the pomace? And if that were true, is fate already written? What if this dream of summer, of a blue dress, of grilling, was premonitory? She's always had a lot of intuition, but it involves making informed choices to get that vision. Choosing now, writing your future, that's a fact. She thinks back to her mother, now deceased, who had entrusted her with her philosophy. Her mother was not a believer in any revealed religion, but she was imbued with great mysticism. One day, she told her, during her first miscarriage with Erwan, that it is not the parents who choose the child to be born, nor its personality: it is the child, who chooses the parents. It is the child, moreover, who transforms two separated beings in the universe into parents. The unborn child, before his birth, chooses to incarnate himself in such and such a family, with such and such difficulty to test the future parents, and to test himself. Of course, for some, the path of incarnation in a sick body is an unbearable suffering.

  His mother told him that once the child has chosen, he forgets everything, and this explains the peculiar shape of the upper lips of humans, which in anatomy is called Cupid's bow8 . It is the mark of the last angel that accompanies the unborn baby and puts his finger on his lips to silence the memories. When Claire fell asleep at night, she would caress the base of her nose. Perhaps it was to try to remember where she came from? Who was she before she was born? What was her mission here on her earthly journey?

  — Claire? Says Erwan nicely.

  — Yes?

  — Shall we? Are you ready to go?

  — Yeah, give me that phone.

  Chapter 12

  Erwan settles comfortably in the IACar. Claire is holding t
he phone. She still hesitates to slide her finger over the green "Call" box, below the name of her worst enemy: Michèle Desrivières.

  Numbering...

  — Erwan, it's ringing.

  The bells are ringing, Claire's heart is racing. It's unbearable, Claire, looking for her breath. Breathing through her belly.

  A small voice answers. Claire thinks she recognizes the President.

  — Hello? Yes ? Who's calling please?

  Yeah, that's her. Claire recognizes her granular voice, like dry gravel. She gives Erwan a thumbs-up.

  — It's Claire, Claire Sautet.

  — Ah finally! Claire, my little one, I've been looking for you everywhere! What happened to you? Where are you, Claire? Do you want us to come get you?

  — I cracked, I did something called decompression.

  — No big deal then.

  Claire looks at Erwan, she makes her big eyes to mean: "But what a nutcase!".

  — No, nothing serious. I'm much better. Even if my legs still hurt.

  — ...the Count of St. Germain was severely punished for it. I had to check your level of loyalty. Come back, I need you.

  — Okay... I'm in Rhône-Alpes. Where should I meet you?

  — Right now, I must be above your head on the presidential plane. I'm on my way to Lyon Saint-Exupéry airport.

  Instinctively, Claire looks up, but sees nothing but white streaks of condensation in the azure sky.