“Our take is Khalid has an ally in the Italians,” Soucy replied. “Which makes it even more tenuous to ask questions since the two groups control different portions of the city.”
“That would explain the fool we caught several weeks ago conducting surveillance on my partner,” Claude said. “And why there’s a second Italian out there pursuing her.”
“Turning on the Italians might be easier for you than going against the Maghrebi,” Captain Soucy said. “If nothing else from a simple ethnic perspective. We’ve found they are very distrustful of anyone not having family originating in North Africa. I have to admit, putting the Italian’s photo on the 6 o’clock news took balls on your part though,” he chuckled.
“I told Geneviève it was a mistake, but Duval overruled me on it,” Claude said, shrugging his shoulders. “And now she and her fellow detectives get to sift through the myriad of sightings of every tourist in the city.”
“Captain Lemieux, I don’t have to tell you or your detectives to watch your step on this one,” Soucy said. “The sum of money being offered for this suspect of yours could lead to some drastic actions by the gangs trying to make a name for themselves.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The grandstand loomed over head as the former Legionnaire walked along the sidewalk. Roaming along the outskirts of Stade Weygand Pupilles, Julien LeBlanc knew the type of individual he was looking to meet. Members of the Corsican mafia frequented the soccer grounds to conduct business in the open without worrying about police activity being too close.
Two men approached him as he neared the gate. “What do you want?” the taller of the two asked.
“I’m looking for Claudio Carbone,” the Legionnaire said. “I've got a message from Papillion Transport for him.”
The second man stepped aside and talked into a miniature microphone inside his windbreaker, relaying Julien’s request to the unseen recipient on the other end of the conversation.
In moments, the second man walked over to the Frenchman and gestured for him to raise his arms. He patted the man down, looking for potential weapons. With his training, Julien was adept at killing with his hands, so he never carried a pistol or knives when meeting an adversary in the open. When he was done, the taller man motioned towards the gate which was now open leading to the grass field.
Passing through the open fence, Julien saw a handful of men running on the field in a spirited game of soccer. In moments, the ball was sailing towards him, which he deftly stopped with his feet like a seasoned midfielder.
Jogging towards him, the erstwhile parrain or godfather of the Marseilles group of the Carbone mafia family slowed until he was a few meters from Julien. “You wished to pass along something from Papillion, I understand?” Claudio asked, catching his breath.
Booting the ball towards him, Julien stood looking over the fit and trim man before him. “My boss would appreciate some information about an effort to abduct a police officer,” he said. “Seems this officer has information on one of the transactions we’ve completed, and we’d like to know how much of the effort has been compromised.”
Claudio motioned Julien towards a small set of benches off to the side where they both sat. Grabbing a small towel, he wiped the sweat from his face. “I’ve heard an Algerian has offered a quarter-million euro for a female officer,” he said. “Seems she embarrassed him and caused somewhat of a stir in his homeland. But he didn’t ask for our involvement, so its success is in question,” he explained, chuckling at what he knew of Alberto Scuderi.
“For that sum of money, I’d try kidnapping her myself,” Julien replied. “But you said success isn’t guaranteed, why?”
“The don who was approached has a soft spot for women,” Claudio said. “His biggest problem would be transporting her out of the country, I’m sure. It might be an angle your employer might use if you wish to get your hands on her yourself,” he continued before taking a drink from a water bottle.
“Is there anything else you can tell us?”
“Yes. Tell Gregory he owes us fifty-thousand euros for losing the warehouse to the police,” the parrain said, alluding to the earlier arrangement with Julien’s employer. “And he should be very careful who he aligns himself with.” He quickly stood in front of Julien. “Not everyone is as innocent as they appear,” the mean reminded him before jogging off to rejoin the match.
***
Across town, the two Italians were soon engaged with their bogus survey, a charade for abducting Hector Dupont. “Thank you for your information,” Giuseppe Ricci said to the woman in unit 2-23. “Your information will go a long way in improving the area for everyone, I’m sure.”
Angling away from the door, he saw Benito walking towards the car when he spied the red Peugeot being driven by the airport’s security director. Whistling, he caught the attention of his colleague just as Hector parked nearby.
Benito heard the whistle and was able to spot their target as the driver’s door swung open. Sauntering up to Hector, he soon was trying to engage him in cursory conversation. “Excuse me sir, but do you have a few moments?”
Hector glanced over his shoulder as he grabbed his briefcase from the backseat. Checking the parking area, he noticed no one else nearby, but his instincts told him something else. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“My associate and I are surveying local residence areas for a development firm in Milan,” Benito said, gesturing to Giuseppe who was walking out from under the carports. “We are looking into how the area could improve by adding various amenities. It shouldn’t take more than five minutes,” he explained, reaching into his satchel.
“All right then, I'll give you five minutes,” Hector replied, placing his briefcase on the trunk of his car.
No sooner had he replied, Benito was pulling the Taser from his bag, bringing it to bear on the security director. Taking the Frenchman by surprise, Benito tried engaging Hector with the Taser without aiming. But before he could pull the trigger releasing the electrode barbs, Hector struck the Italian with his briefcase. The impact of the briefcase striking Benito’s shoulder before glancing off the side of his head caused the Italian’s wig to fly off.
“What the hell?” Hector exclaimed, watching the hairpiece fly away.
Giuseppe was upon the two men when Benito made his attempt. Noticing the quick reaction of their intended victim, he froze for a moment, caught by surprise by the Frenchman’s actions. Pulling his Taser out of his bag, he prepared to fire it but he soon found himself restrained in a bear hug which caused him to drop the weapon.
“And what do you think you were going to do with that?” the voice of Giuseppe’s captor asked. “Are you ok, Hector?” The man looked at his neighbor, who’d drawn his handgun from its holster and was aiming it at Benito.
“Yes,” he answered, his breathing steady and measured, as his Air Force training dictated. “Have you seen these two before, Viktor?” he asked, nodding towards the two Italians.
“They showed up yesterday outside the gates, then they were back today asking more questions,” the shipyard worker replied. “It seems somewhat strange though... not the questions they asked, but the fact they’re Italian.”
“Is that true?” Hector asked, kicking Benito’s shin while leveling the pistol at his chest. “You’re both Italian?”
“What does it matter?” he answered, glancing at Giuseppe for a reaction. But the Italian was near passing out as the shipyard worker’s grip held tight, squeezing the breath from his chest.
Before any more questions could be asked, the wail of sirens could be heard growing louder from the boulevard as several police cars were converging on the complex. In moments, the two cars squealed to a halt, the officers getting out and drawing their weapons as they saw Hector holding his.
“Put your weapon down,” the lead officer commanded.
Following the officer's command, Hector placed it on the trunk of his car and stepped back. “My name is Hector Dupont. I’m hea
d of airport security,” he explained, pulling his ID badge from his shirt pocket. “This man tried to assault me with the Taser.” He nodded to the weapon laying on the ground.
One officer walked up and took Hector’s badge while another motioned for his friend Viktor to release his victim. As Giuseppe was let loose, the Italian collapsed, struggling to stay on his feet as blood rushed through his body.
After several questions, the police soon determined Hector as the victim and his neighbor and friend Viktor were providing aid, while Benito and Giuseppe were detained. “Both of you are under arrest for possession of an illegal device and assault,” the lead officer said, placing the handcuffs on them. “Monsieur Dupont, we’ll need to have you and your friend join us at the station to give written statements.”
Word of the assault and capture of the Italians soon spread through the police channels, reaching Detective Lemieux in the headquarters building. As the two suspects were being processed at the local station, their pictures were soon compared with those taken during the surveillance activities near Geneviève’s apartment.
Going in the office, he found his three junior officers pouring over the third bundle of notices from dispatch citing a citizen’s report of the Italian prowler. “You can stop what you’re doing everyone,” he announced, putting his coffee down on the desk.
“And why is that?” Detective Berger asked.
“It seems your Italian prowler was apprehended just about an hour ago,” Claude said. “Along with an accomplice. They tried to assault a local businessman.” The lie was just until he could tell Geneviève in private that Hector had been the intended victim.
“Detective Benoit, you and I will be going to the substation to witness the interrogation,” he continued, tapping her on the shoulder. “Masson, contact the communications sergeant; tell him to inform the television stations we’ve apprehended our suspect.” Dropping his empty coffee cup in the trash, Claude turned to Berger. "I want you to gather the information on your missing freighter, it’s time to get back to finding our mystery shipping firm.”
As the two officers walked out to Claude’s car, he broke the news to Geneviève. “I don’t know any other way to say this, but the assault victim was meant to be Hector Dupont. He was able to subdue one man while a neighbor handled the other,” he said softly, looking over the roof of the car at his female partner.
“Hector is ok, though?”
“From what I’ve been told, yes, he is,” he assured her, getting behind the wheel. “He should still be at the station when we get there.” He put the car into gear and pulled away from the parking lot.
“I guess my days of being a celebrity at the training facility are over,” Geneviève said, staring out the window, her thoughts centering on Hector’s well-being.
After thirty minutes of weaving through the city traffic, the two officers arrived at the station and were shown to the control booth for the interrogation room. Sitting in front of the computer recording the interview, the observer waited in silence for the suspects to be escorted into the room. Looking through the glass, they could see the interior, its stainless-steel table and chairs a stark contrast against the pale blue walls.
After a few minutes, a buzzer sounded. The observer reached over and released the electronic lock, allowing the officers and Benito Russo to enter the space. “And so, it begins,” Claude whispered.
Geneviève didn’t hear him. Her gaze was focused squarely on the Italian, Benito Russo. He had no distinguishing marks or facial features, but she could see where he had glued the prosthetic nose piece to his face. The outline of makeup and glue was a visible contrast to his normal skin color.
“So, Monsieur Russo, do you wish to explain the reason for the assault on Monsieur Dupont?” the officer asked, looking over the arrest report.
“I’ll be happy to discuss things after the consulate has sent their lawyer,” Benito said. “Until then, enjoy looking at my face.” he said, leaning back in the chair.
“Such a pretty face, too. Very well,” the officer said before nodding to the other officer who reached down grabbing Benito's arm and pulling him to his feet. “Bring in the next suspect,” he ordered, switching folders.
In a moment, another officer was leading Giuseppe Ricci into the room before seating him in the chair. Looking at his reflection in the two-way mirror, he knew they would record everything he did and said during the interrogation session.
“Monsieur… Ricci is it?” the officer asked, reading the report. “Do you wish to offer your version of why you and your associate were assaulting Monsieur Dupont?”
“I’ll wait for my lawyer,” Giuseppe replied confidently.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Geneviève said, turning away from the glass. “All they will do is trying to stall us and we’ll never find out if it was Khalid who’s paying them off.”
Detective Lemieux stepped beside his frustrated partner. “Don’t give up hope so easily, ma Cherie,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll sort this out soon enough. Come along, let’s see how your Monsieur Dupont is, shall we?”
Departing the room, the two detectives made their way to the senior officer’s space where they met Hector providing his full statement to the assault from earlier. Turning, he glimpsed Geneviève and Claude in the doorway. “I didn’t expect you to be here,” he said.
“News travels fast sometimes,” she replied, giving him a brief hug. Stepping back, she looked her companion over, searching for any sign of wounds. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“No. I was lucky Viktor was busy doing his laundry or things could have been worse,” he said, nodding to his neighbor sitting at the desk across the room. “So, Captain Lemieux, are these the men you’ve been looking for?”
“The one who was trying to subdue you with his Taser matches the description from the market,” Claude replied. “But I’m not sure about the second one. Seems we’ve nothing on him, but there’s something…” Snapping his fingers, Claude finally recalled seeing Giuseppe Ricci. “He’s the one on the bench,” he remembered, looking at Geneviève. “And I walked right past the sonofabitch.”
“You mean he’s the one in the park we saw after meeting with Officer LeBlanc?”
“Yes, but his hair is different,” Claude replied.
“The one who came after me had a wig on, maybe the other one does as well,” Hector said.
“And the first man, I could see where he had applied some form of makeup,” Geneviève added.
“Excuse me,” the mountainous man named Viktor said. “The officer is done with me and has offered a ride, Hector, so I’ll be going back to the apartment.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Hector answered, shaking the man’s hand. “We’ll have dinner soon. It’ll be my treat.”
Viktor smiled because he knew Hector’s offer meant a generous meal at one of Marseille’s better restaurants of his choice. “I’ll be looking forward to it, my friend.”
The two detectives both looked at the man as he was escorted out of the station. “Now, where were we?” Claude asked, getting his focus back to the Italians.
“The men were wearing makeup,” Geneviève said. “And I’d say it was because we provided the news stations with the photo of the first man. But we just gave them the photo the day before.” She drummed her fingers against her folded arms in thought. “Which means he came to town with his plan to be in disguise for the abduction.” She looked at Claude for validation of her theory.
“If that’s the case, he’s done this before,” Claude pointed out. Stepping over to the coffee service, he poured himself a cup while adding three heaps of sugar. Taking a drink of the lukewarm caffeine, he promptly spat it out into the garbage. “Damn. So much for squad room cuisine.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The news agencies throughout Marseille were broadcasting their story of the Italians, Russo and Ricci, being apprehended in their failed attempt to kidnap a member of airport
security. Each station included a photo of the men from the booking process as part of the telecast, allowing the entire city to see the suspects, including Louis Clement.
Traveling back from Toulon, Gregory didn’t have the aid of seeing the news, though he heard of the arrests. No sooner had the radio announcer provided information on the failed abduction, his cell phone rang.
As soon as he recognized the picture, Louis was on his phone, calling his partner. In moments, his call was answered. “Gregory, we've got a big problem.”
“What is it? And when did you get back?”
“Last night. And that’s not important,” he replied. “I was just watching the news and it seems Geno Ricci has been arrested,” Louis said, glancing up at the television. “The police provided his mugshot for the news to broadcast, and I’m positive it’s him.”
Gregory thought of his surprise visit to the Italian in Toulon, only to find he was not in town. And now the call from Louis about him being arrested added to his concerns. “I’m almost in town; we’ll meet at the office in fifteen minutes,” he said, ending the call while weaving his sedan in and out of the traffic.
Sitting behind the desk, Louis took stock of their plight as well, from their former member, Franco, and his girlfriend escaping the police which led to him being shot, to the need to move one of their ships from the harbor. Things are getting out of hand, and we’ve done nothing to bring attention to ourselves, he told himself.
While Louis sat reflecting on the past instances to Papillion Transport and their operations, Julien LeBlanc was returning from his meeting with Claudio Carbone. Stomping up the stairs two steps at a time, he entered the office catching his friend off guard. “You’re back, I see,” he said, hugging Louis.
Pivoting around in the chair, Louis greeted his colleague with an embrace. “Yes, I’m back and none too soon,” he replied, pointing to a replay of the news broadcast. “Seems we’ve got another problem to negotiate.” “I’m gone just four days and all hell breaks loose.”
Obscure Intentions Page 20
