“Maybe the company is still here in Marseille,” Geneviève said. “But why send her to the office? Was she looking for something or just checking for mail service?”
Before Captain Lemieux could respond, Detective Masson came striding down the hallway towards him. “Captain, our Italian suspects have a visitor application,” he told them, holding out a notice while catching his breath.
Turning to Geneviève, Claude waved his hands at the door. “Let her go for now. But inform the patrol officer’s sergeant to make sure we have a good address for her. And tell him to keep tabs on her movements for the next 72 hours,” he instructed, walking away with Detective Masson. “Then meet me in the office,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Walking into the room, Detective Benoit told Claudette she would be released, but to make sure she provided a legitimate means of being contacted for future questioning.
“Thank you,” Claudette said, getting up from the chair and leaving the room.
***
The messenger stopped his Moped outside the compound in Algiers under the scrutiny of several armed men standing at the gate. “I’ve a packet for his excellency Khalid,” he said to the tallest one. Turning to one of the others, a few words were spoken before the tall one returned his attention to the messenger.
In moments, Omar Khalid’s driver, Malik, appeared at the gate. “I’ll accept the packet,” he said, holding out his hand. Passing over the packet, the messenger stood, waiting and hoping for a modest tip for his services.
“Go with Allah’s blessing,” Malik said, closing the gate behind him, leaving the messenger alone with his guards.
Carrying the packet, Malik made his way to the veranda where Omar and Nazim Aziz were in conversation about their next drug shipment.
“A packet for you, your Excellency,” the Algerian said, placing the envelope on the table before stepping back.
Omar stared at the envelope, inscribed with his name both in French and Arabic. Picking it up, he took the knife from the fruit plate nearby and slit the back open, pulling two pages from inside. His brow furrowed as he looked at the contents, each word providing an answer to a question, but further deepening the enigma of its origin.
Nazim sat quietly, showing his respect and not interrupting the elder Algerian as he read the notice. After several quiet and tense minutes, the elder man turned to him and waved the pages in front of him.
“Your cousin has been found,” Omar said, breaking the silence between the two men.
“Where is he?” Nazim asked, struggling to contain his excitement of hearing the news.
“Oddly enough, he is still in Marseille,” Omar replied. “The police have had him in seclusion it turns out,” he explained, sliding the first page towards Nazim. “They’ve somehow found a new use for Chateau Il d’If and its dungeon.”
Nazim read the first page and its description of how they held and interrogated his cousin. As Omar finished the second page, he too learned how the French police were using the former fortress. More importantly, he took note of the date near the bottom of the letter.
“If this information is correct, we’ve a means of liberating Hakim,” Nazim said, handing back the letter to Omar. “Can your contact verify this? I mean, so far no one in Marseille noticed anything about him, but now we get this news,” he noted, voicing his concerns to the elder Algerian.
“I understand your reluctance to accept this news as authentic,” Omar said, looking at Nazim before turning his gaze to the waters of the Mediterranean Sea in the distance. “It looks somewhat suspicious to get this now, so soon after my call with an associate,” he uttered.
Picking up the letter, he turned to the second page and gazed at the date written on the bottom. “What was the date the Irishman wanted our help in Tangiers?”
“He said it was the first week of September, why?”
“Your cousin’s planned date to be moved is the end of next week,” Omar said, pointing to the letter. “I’m not sure we can secure the right men for both instances. I’m only sure of a handful, not more than ten men, able of crossing borders. There are risks with having them travel back and forth so close together.”
“And what of your associate in Marseille? Can he help us?”
“His help comes with a heavy fee, I’m afraid,” Omar said. “I’m not one to be indebted with the likes of this particular associate. At least not by choice,” he noted, finishing his water. “But that’s not to say he couldn’t at least entertain providing a few men for a small fee.”
Nazim glanced at his mentor, while inside, he mentally noted Omar’s reluctance while he only wanted to press forward. “With what we have here,” Nazim began, laying his hand upon the letters, “I’ll begin planning for Hakim’s release. You can let your associate know I’ll be the one to pay for his and his men’s services.”
Omar glanced at Nazim. Still trying to prove yourself. “You wish to risk reentering France after knowing the police have your passport on notice? And what contacts do you have in the city still?”
“I have the documents from the Italian I can use again,” Nazim said. “All I need is one of your capable servants to change the photograph. The original shows me as clean-shaven, not with this,” he smiled, rubbing his hand over the close-cropped beard.
Omar sat, thinking of his brother’s son wanting to exact his vengeance against the French. Was I no different at his age? he thought. “I’ll have Malik contact one of my other members to correct your documents. And while you prepare your plan, I’ll see how many men I can gather to support you,” he said. “But I want you to understand, Nazim... this may be your last time leaving the country.”
“I understand,” Nazim replied as he stood. “I’ll be in the study if you need me.”
Seeing him walk away, Omar finished his drink before looking up at Aisha. “I’ll need a pen and paper,” he said, directing the young woman. In a moment, she returned placing the items before him. Considering the letter’s contents, the older Algerian listed the trusted followers of his organization he felt could go with Nazim back to France.
Dragging out the chair from behind the desk, Nazim too was writing various things he would need for their attempt to free his cousin. Turning on the computer, he was soon scanning the website for the tour company and ferry service to the former citadel. First service in the morning left Marseille at 0845 and made the transit to the fort in fifteen minutes. The last ferry departing was scheduled thirty minutes before sunset, depending on what time of year it was.
Almost thirteen hours when no boats should be near the docks, Nazim told himself. Unless it was the police, he realized. But if they were using the dungeon secretly, the police would need to arrive and depart just like the tourists would. If that’s the case, the police change shifts midday to avoid arousing any suspicions. Nazim wrote his notes down as he dissected what most certainly was the routine being used by those holding Hakim hostage.
As he continued to plan for his cousin’s release, Nazim wrote what he considered the possible issues he and Omar Khalid’s men would encounter. A large group of men would raise suspicions with the police, he told himself. Not everyone could be businesspersons, and he didn’t know of any women his mentor could consider assisting to help with disguising their activities.
After thirty minutes, Omar Khalid had his list prepared and sent his servant Malik into the city to pass the word to those he would need for the excursion. Unknown to Nazim, Omar had listed several women who would join the group, assisting in the ruse to liberate his nephew.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The information on Hakim Talib’s location was passing from one person to the next, contained within the prayer room of the mosque. Nevertheless, in just an hour, word reached an undercover agent of the Gang Enforcement team, who relayed the information to Captain Soucy at the police’s Annex compound.
Glancing over the handwritten note, the officer picked up the phone and dialed the number of his fellow captain, Claude Lemie
ux. On the second ring, an unfamiliar voice of a man answered, “Drug Interdiction; Officer Masson speaking.”
“This is Captain Soucy. Can I speak with your captain?”
“Sorry, sir, he’s down in interrogation. Can I pass along a message?”
“Yes. Have him come meet me. I’ve got a lead on one of the suspects being held at Il d’If,” Soucy said.
“I’ll let him know you called,” Guy said, hanging up the phone. Leaving the office, he trampled down the stairs, making his way to the interrogation spaces in the basement. Rounding the corner, he caught his partner Detective Berger exiting one room. “Hey, Nicolas, have you seen Captain Lemieux?”
“He’s in here,” he answered, pointing his thumb towards the room he left.
As Guy Masson entered the control room, Captain Lemieux held up his hand. Staring through the glass, the detective looked at the suspect Giuseppe Ricci in conversation with another man, whose back was to the window.
“Captain Soucy called,” Masson said in a hushed tone.
Claude turned. “What did he want?”
“He said for you to come meet him. Something about a suspect being held at Il d’If,” Guy answered. “He sounded somewhat animated about wanting to discuss it with you, if you ask me.”
“All right,” the captain said. “Was Benoit back in the office?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since this morning’s discussion with the woman.”
Claude glanced back at the two men engaged in conversation, though he heard nothing of what they said. Tossing his coffee cup in the wastebasket, he looked down at the technician. “If the lawyer wishes to discuss anything, tell him to call the arresting officer for an appointment. And then contact me afterwards,” he instructed, stepping past his fellow detective before entering the hallway.
“Guy, I want you to find Benoit and have her join me at the Annex, at trailer number three as soon as possible,” Claude said, striding towards the elevators. “Likewise, what do we have on the shipping firm? Anything so far?”
“Still nothing,” Masson answered. “The harbormaster hasn’t been notified of any sightings of the freighter which left without permission yet. “According to their records, the De Gaulle still needed to offload twenty-one containers of cargo here in Marseille.”
“Then let’s look at other harbors where they can offload those containers,” Claude said, stepping into the elevator. After he pressed the button, the doors closed and the car ascended to the main lobby. “And get with the patrol who picked up this woman earlier has anything else on her. Where she’s living at, her known acquaintances, where she banks...”
Rushing through the crowd as soon as the doors opened, Captain Lemieux made his way to the Annex where he found his counterpart, Captain Soucy, discussing future surveillance activities with several of his undercover agents. Waiting for a pause, Claude stood away from the group.
As he noticed Claude approaching the group, the officer for Gang Enforcement finished his brief and stepped away from his officers, waving Claude towards him. “Captain Lemieux, I received some interesting information,” he said, escorting him to his makeshift office.
Resting behind the table, Soucy unfolded the message from his subordinate working within the Maghrebi contingent. “It implies word has gotten around about a former suspect which was handed over to you for drug smuggling,” he explained, reading the note. “One of my officers has found out your suspect’s location was leaked to the head of an Algerian gang.”
“Omar Khalid,” Claude muttered quietly.
“Yes, so it appears. Shows he’s reaching out to one of the local gangs here in Marseille to help liberate him,” Soucy said. “We’ve had trouble getting close to this particular gang leader in the past, so getting this information is very helpful.”
“But who leaked the information?” Claude asked. “How did it get to Khalid?”
“Each a very good question, Claude,” Soucy replied. “Even with my resources, I knew nothing about your suspect until this came up and its link to your detective.”
Examining the note, he tossed it back to his counterpart. “I don’t read Arabic,” Claude said.
“Sorry about that,” the captain said, taking back the note and reading the contents aloud for Claude to hear. “It’s obvious Detective Benoit was likewise being targeted by the Algerian, Khalid.”
“And with the current events, it suggests he’s been seeking help from the Italians as well.” Claude replied, filling the captain in on the latest developments with the arrests of Angelo Mazza, Giuseppe Ricci, and Benito Russo.
“To the best of my knowledge, none of the Italian or Corsican families here in the city are involved,” Captain Soucy said. “But that’s not to say we don’t have our own issues with officers being corrupted by money or coerced through some other means. The information could have come from inside just as easily.”
“If this information is correct, it’s only leaving out one detail,” Claude said.
“What’s that?”
“A date the Algerians will take action. It doesn’t give us any room to prepare,” he said, scratching his chin. “I’ll need to discuss this with Captain Duval. And possibly even get Captain Georges’ team involved as well. Can you translate the note for me?”
“Give me five minutes,” Soucy said, pulling out a pen.
***
Claudette’s gut told her something was wrong. Watching the woman walk into the small bistro, the police officer lost sight of her suspect for the briefest of moments. As Detective Benoit stepped closer to the entrance, she saw Claudette standing in line, preparing to give her order to the clerk.
Scanning the eatery, Geneviève could detect nothing out of place, or anyone that would appear to cause her to take any actions. Walking past, she stopped outside a boutique window, glancing at the apparel on display. Utilizing the reflection off the window, she kept her eye on the secretary. In a moment, a man who walked up behind her obscured her vision.
Feeling the nudge from behind, Claudette glanced over her shoulder, noticing Louis standing to the side of her. Just as she had practiced, Claudette dropped her purse on the floor.
"I'm so sorry, let me get that for you," Louis said.
"Thank you, but I'll manage," she said as she and Louis bent down to retrieve it. In mere seconds, she passed along the computer discs to him while pushing her make-up case back in to the bag.
“Thank you,” she said with a look of relief on her face.
“You’re welcome,” Louis said, smiling as he slid the discs in his jacket. “It looks like your order is ready,” he noted, pointing to the counter.
Picking up the tray, Claudette moved to the side where she found a table and sat down. Glancing out the window, she noticed Louis’s friend Julien sitting in a car parked across the street. Watching him gave her a reason to calm down, knowing they wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Detective Benoit noticed the brief exchange between Claudette and the man as he handed her purse back. The distortion of the glass didn’t allow Geneviève to gain a clear view of the man, but she couldn’t shake the thought she’d seen him before. Concentrating on the man allowed her original suspect to slip unnoticed from the bistro and away from the detective.
Wandering out of the eatery, Louis walked around the front of Julien’s car before sliding into the passenger seat. “Let’s go,” he said.
Geneviève watched the bearded man walk across the street and get into the car. As the driver pulled the vehicle into traffic, she realized the man behind the wheel was the same one she encountered at the market near her apartment. Moreover, his companion had the same build and mannerisms as the one she had shot a month earlier.
As the car disappeared amongst the traffic, Geneviève’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the number, she knew it was from the office. “Hello?” she barked, answering it after the third ring.
“Benoit, where in the hell are you?” the familiar voice of Guy Masson asked
her.
“I went for a walk. What do you need?” she asked, looking back into the bistro for the woman she was tailing. “Damn it, she’s gone.”.
“What did you say?”
Hearing Guy ask his question, Geneviève stammered, “Nothing... it’s nothing, Guy. Why are you calling me again?”
“Captain Lemieux wants you to meet him and Captain Soucy at trailer three in the Annex,” the detective said. “Something to do about the suspect being held on Il d’If.”
“All right, I’ll be there in five minutes,” she said, striding down the boulevard towards the police station under the watchful stare of Claudette Minot from the alley. Genevieve conjured up the various issues, which could relate to their suspect, Talib.
“What does the Gang Task force know about him?” she asked herself as she entered the police compound. Scanning the dingy white units, she could see a tangled mess of power lines connecting the trailers as she noted the faded numbers on each corner. Arriving at the one the task force occupied, she pulled open the door, its protest a loud screech as it swung on the hinges.
“Can I help you?” the hoarse and raspy voice of a woman asked.
The sight of the person asking the question surprised Detective Benoit. What was once a stunning young woman sat someone portraying an image of self-abuse and overindulgence of alcohol and drugs. Or so it looked to Geneviève. The officer sat hunched over on the tables, her hands holding several folders. Her hair, matted and oily, was parted in the middle, partially obscuring her face, but the skeletal look of her was obvious. The skin drew tight across her nose and chin, the cheeks sunken like pits.
“I’m sorry. But I’m Detective Benoit; where can I find Captain Soucy?” she stammered, embarrassed to be caught staring at the woman.
“It’s ok, officer,” the woman replied. “I’m Officer Patrice Galant,” showing her badge. “I’ve just got two more weeks before my transfer to Nice,” the woman continued, knowing her outer features belied her position and true worth within the police force. “You’ll find the captain over in the office,” she said, pointing to the closed door in the corner.
Obscure Intentions Page 22
