by Pirate Irwin
“But then, of course, I should have recalled family is not a sacred cow to you; the only thing that matters is the wellbeing of Gaston Lafarge.
“What is the life of a little boy when you have your own happiness and future to weigh up, dressed up of course in some self-justifying idea you are putting your country before your personal interests?
“Trouble is, Lafarge, how do you know what we offered wouldn’t have been as good if not better than the side you have chosen? Wartime leaders often are woeful and divisive peacetime chiefs.
“For that, in the long term, you will pay a price. In the immediacy you are going to suffer grievously, but then you obviously factored that in. I pity you,” said de Cambedessus his voice barely above a whisper.
Lafarge’s face reddened and he gripped his revolver tightly. His impulse was to raise the gun and shoot the colonel dead, but then perhaps it was what he wanted – avoiding the shame and dishonor that awaited him. Lafarge was not going to give him the pleasure of allowing him to do so.
At that moment, thankfully for Lafarge should he have second thoughts, both Levau and Ruffier appeared at the door accompanied by two gendarmes. They arrived with revolvers drawn having been re-armed once it had become clear de Cambedessus had fallen for the ruse.
Luizet stepped in between Lafarge and de Cambedessus.
“As I observe Lafarge wishes to remain Chief Inspector and not accept your promotion, and I am clearly still in my post, I would suggest Colonel you follow these gentlemen,” said Luizet laconically.
“They will escort you to rather less salubrious surroundings than the ones you thought you would be occupying.”
“You will receive a more sympathetic hearing, despite your treachery, if you reveal where Lafarge’s son is being held. Should any harm befall him then I am afraid I will not be responsible for my men’s actions. Traitor and murderer is one thing but a child murderer puts you into an entirely different category,” said Pinault chipping in from over Luizet’s shoulder.
De Cambedessus flinched for once and Lafarge even thought he saw the wax start dripping from his moustache, though that was wishful thinking. Lafarge asked him if Pierre had returned to the south with Chabrol but de Cambedessus shook his head.
“Chabrol had become too fond of him, there is no way he would carry out the order to kill him. No, he was told to leave him with us in the house. That is all I’m prepared to say on the matter,” said de Cambedessus, a tone of defiance returning.
Luizet and Pinault gestured to the gendarmes to come forward while Lafarge stood aside.
“Now, Colonel, you will be taken to the cells where you can enjoy the company of Petiot and other charlatans. Some you will recognise as members of your government-in-waiting, though, I think the only thing they are waiting for now is the guillotine,” said Lafarge.
De Cambedessus shrugged, laughed dismissively, and walked to the door before turning and glancing at Lafarge.
“This is not the end of our story, Lafarge. You can stand there looking content and satisfied victory is yours, but you would be unwise to be so confident.
“We should have a chat later. I think you will find it most enlightening but it can wait of course until you have had your family reunion, hopefully for once, for you, a happy one.”
****
Lafarge, though, was to be disappointed.
“Chief Inspector, it is best you don’t go to the house. I will send Levau and Ruffier as well as gendarmes. You have too personal an interest in this,” said Luizet gently.
Lafarge looked to Pinault for support, but it was clear they had both decided he should not be involved in the operation.
“You’ve done a superb job and it will not go unrewarded, but we don’t want to make it look like this is a personal revenge mission. Besides, in a nightmare scenario … well, we just wouldn’t want to put you in such a position,” said Luizet patting Lafarge’s shoulder.
Lafarge nodded reluctantly in agreement. He had so wanted to finish off the hugely successful morning by personally leading the rescue operation for his son. In the process he would become a hero to Pierre, rebuilding their relationship in one fell swoop. Besides he had promised him he would be back for him; now it was just to be yet another broken promise between them.
However, he acknowledged that should things go wrong, for there were bound to be armed men inside the house, he did not know how he would react. Luizet had made it clear he would be held accountable for his actions no matter that it was largely down to him they had suppressed the coup.
Levau and Ruffier departed while four other uniforms came in and removed the corpses of de Miromanil and Macaire. Luizet told them to dump the bodies in the cell of de Cambedessus, a bitter reminder to him of his abject failure.
Lafarge smiled at that touch, Luizet was nobody’s fool and tougher than his outward appearance lent him. He looked out the window as five sedans careered out the gate and took off down the Seine packed with the men he hoped would bring his son safely back.
He had not had much time to think about how Pierre would react to Berenice and the child due to be born. There had been the little matter of the coup and planning the counter-coup to work out.
Berenice had looked genuinely happy for him when he told her about being reunited with Pierre.
She had even offered to go to the house and try and convince the men her husband had asked her to remove the boy as de Cambedessus was uncertain whether Lafarge would support the coup and instead try and stage a rescue attempt.
However, once Lafarge informed her of what de Cambedessus had said to the coup plotters, including the owner of the house de Sarrandon, how he felt about her, she wisely withdrew the offer.
Lafarge was happy to be interrupted in trying to dissect his complicated private life, which was doubly difficult as it never seemed to be too far removed from his professional one, as Pinault slipped a glass of cognac into his hand.
“I hope this is better than the poisonous rubbish you gave to Macaire,” he said half joking.
Pinault laughed.
“My dear, Lafarge, he died a suitable death – cognac laced liberally with rat poison. Oh, and the glass wasn’t a real crystal one either!” he said winking at Lafarge.
Lafarge laughed and drank his down in one before helping himself to a second glass; for once his superiors didn’t seem to care.
“So what have you done about the other leaders? Admittedly aside from de Cambedessus and Chabrol they are a pathetic lot but they will, I imagine, face justice,” said Lafarge.
Luizet and Pinault nodded.
“Well, men have been sent to Driant’s home while you know all about the proposed raid on de Sarrandon’s house, so they should be joining de Cambedessus soon. Chabrol is another positive result, for he evidently reflected on what you said yesterday and never issued the final orders to his men,” said Pinault.
“As for McLagan, he should be at his own headquarters, which could just as well be the bar of the Crillon. However, once news comes out the coup is over it won’t take long for Eisenhower to make him the scapegoat and discipline him.
“He is an embarrassment for him to have around now, a reminder of Ike’s treacherous behaviour towards the General,” said Pinault with a satisfied look on his face.
Lafarge was delighted Chabrol had seen sense. He had already felt a change in his attitude during the meeting. He thought it was why de Cambedessus had been so annoyed by his intervention, as he must have already harboured doubts about the Resistance hero’s enthusiasm for the coup.
He wasn’t so happy with McLagan getting away so lightly, but he realised there was nothing they could do. Arresting him would cause a huge diplomatic incident and even threaten to disrupt the push towards Germany if the French and the Americans were at daggers drawn.
Whatever happened to McLagan, the Supreme Commander would be seeking out a new drinking partner.
There were, however, trickier affairs such as would General Leclerc be ano
ther victim of the affair, though his implication in the coup still rested solely on Driant’s word? Much would depend whether the old general would try and save his life by bargaining over Leclerc’s involvement.
“What about Joanovici, you have yet to mention him?” enquired Lafarge.
Pinault glanced at Luizet nervously before replying.
“Well, I was rather hoping you would bring him up. For that is our next task; the Prefect, along with yourself, are to join him for lunch at the Ritz. So grab your coat, without stopping for another drink, and go along and treat yourselves to Mister Joanovici’s hospitality,” said Pinault.
“Don’t look so shocked, Lafarge. I would be going but I have to get on with interrogating Petiot, which promises to be an unbearable and exhausting experience.
“So I’m rather jealous of you. If your shock is more to do with us treating Joanovici with such respect, well yes of course it appears bizarre and wrong but I think the lunch will help to enlighten you on that matter,” added Pinault.
Lafarge shook his head in disgust, but thought better of turning down the lunch invitation as perhaps Joanovici would do himself enough harm to warrant making it the last meal he enjoyed at the august historic establishment.
“In any case, Lafarge, to ease your moral angst both Luizet and I have decided you are the best man to interrogate de Cambedessus. Yes, we want you to do this despite your personal connections. However, you have been lead investigator on the case and you know the man better than any of us.
“We will not allow you to go in there armed and you will either be accompanied by me, when I can get free from Petiot, or Prefect Luizet, who will act as an observer as his position does not entitle him to pose questions.”
Lafarge’s frown changed abruptly into a broad appreciative grin and with it his appetite returned. He would ignore Pinault’s advice over the wine but he would forego the pudding. This would allow him to return quicker to begin his destruction of the wall of arrogance and self-confidence around de Cambedessus.
It would taste as good as anything the chef of the Ritz could drum up.
****
It was clear from the moment they sat down Joanovici would not be accompanying them back to the Quai.
Once again the profiteer, businessman, collaborator – call him what you like, thought Lafarge sourly – who’d not objected or lifted a finger to prevent his fellow Jews be persecuted, driven out of their homes and treated worse than cattle, would be escaping justice.
Sitting unashamedly in the centre of the magnificent dining room, accompanied by two louche-looking women and three spivvily dressed men, Jovanovici didn’t look like he cared he’d just backed his second loser in months.
He repelled Lafarge as he clicked his fingers and the same waiters who’d probably served him during the Occupation, when Joanovici regularly ate there with Bousquet, Guitry, Cocteau and the German ambassador Otto Abetz, the avowed Francophile who played the relatively cultured nice guy to the porcine hateful SS chief Karl Oberg, sycophantically attended to his every wish.
Dressed in a superbly tailored dark navy suit, a pink shirt and patterned silk tie which had a diamond encrusted tie-pin thrust in the middle of it, Joanovici acknowledged the arrival of Luizet with enthusiasm.
However, his face fell when he saw Lafarge was behind him, although the Chief Inspector hoped it was because all of a sudden he didn’t feel quite so secure.
Nevertheless Joanovici managed to force a smile. He told the two women and two of the men to move to another table, which produced a lot of huffing and puffing and scowls from the guests until he informed the fawning maître d he would pick up their bill. The other man remained seated and made no effort to move so Luizet and Lafarge settled themselves either side of Joanovici and his one remaining guest.
“So, gentlemen, let me introduce you to my lawyer Francois Duhamel. He is standing in for Renée de Chambrun who, you will both understand, is more concerned for his personal safety being Laval’s son-in-law,” said Joanovici.
Joanovici had a waiter pour both of them a glass of a superb 1941 Chateau Haut Brion, though Lafarge noted it was as far as his hospitality would extend to with no menus being brought to the table.
While they went without food Joanovici and Duhamel, a well-built man of around 60 with neatly-clipped salt and pepper hair who shook hands with them rather stiffly, unashamedly tucked into oysters, accompanied by a 1941 Chateau Latour Chablis, and then lamb cutlets for which Joanovici ordered another bottle of the Haut Brion.
Lafarge couldn’t have cared less at the rudeness of Joanovici eating and treating them as if they were the hired help. Surely, though, Luizet found it demeaning and would assert his moral and legal authority over Joanovici, who was now guilty of twice betraying his adopted country. However, Luizet didn’t allow a flicker of emotion to cross his features as he waited for Joanovici and the lawyer to finish.
Lafarge spent the time trying not to look at Joanovici eat, for it was a revolting sight. His jowly features contorted as he chewed and spoke to Duhamel at the same time, spit and remnants of food splattering the tablecloth and occasionally the lawyer. Duhamel, like all well paid lackeys, brushed them off with as little fuss as possible.
Lafarge, instead, revelled in chain-smoking and intentionally blowing a constant dirty cloud of tobacco smoke over his neighbours, which earned him disapproving looks from Duhamel.
Finally the curtain came down on the farcical theatrics, and having ordered three Armagnacs – Lafarge alone of the quartet asked for a cognac – Joanovici leant back in his chair allowing Duhamel to speak for him.
However, before Duhamel could say a word Luizet cut in.
“I don’t think we require your mouthpiece to lecture us on legal matters, Mr Joanovici. We have been patient enough, but you are the person we came to talk to. Our only interest is if you can add any more detail to the intelligence that Lafarge, here, did such an excellent and courageous job in accruing,” said Luizet glancing in Lafarge’s direction.
If Luizet hoped compliments on his work was going to satisfy Lafarge he sorely misread the situation.
Lafarge was far from content. He could see Joanovici was about to succeed in freeing himself from the clutches of justice, not because of a credible defence by himself or legal wrangling by Duhamel.
No, the very people who should be arresting him were giving him a free pass for all his crimes, perpetrated directly by him or that he willingly abetted, just so he could carry on earning the fortunes he received from the Nazis and now no doubt hoped to from the incoming government.
“I must object, sir, in the strongest terms that we are going to sit here and ignore this man’s crimes, both during the Occupation and now in a plot to topple the regime you represent and I work for,” said Lafarge coldly.
“He has grown rich on the back of his adopted compatriots whilst they endured misery and cruelty at the hands of his friends the Nazis not to mention the crimes committed against his fellow Jews,” added Lafarge, his voice rising, which was intentional so the remaining clients eating in the restaurant would hear.
Luizet’s pallid features reddened, Joanovici sat in his chair, a smug smile on the edges of his full lips, while Duhamel stared uncomprehending at Lafarge.
Lafarge, though, hadn’t finished. His revulsion at the pig in front of him escaping what he believed was his deserved fate was so strong and his despair at not being able to arrest him so deep his only weapon remaining was to humiliate Joanovici in public.
He had unwittingly been provided with the perfect stage. His audience consisted of American and British military officers and, he conjectured, members of the press for there was a table consisting of a boisterous group of men and women, seemingly Americans, a few tables away.
“I find it a bit rich that while Colonel de Cambedessus, a man for whom I have a deep dislike, sits in a cell, he at least can plead he fought on the right and just side and did not collude in the most appalling crimes like this man
here.
“To be honest why should we take anything this man says as true He has changed sides so often and said so many different things to his various masters I doubt he is at ease with himself if he ever feels he has spoken the truth.”
Lafarge sat back in his chair, glass in hand, and downed the remainder of his cognac delighted to have made his point. He had made it so forcefully he had silenced the rest of the room. Even the loud and largely drunk group of Americans had gone quiet.
The waiters, professionals that they were, carried on with their service but the maître d, now looking flustered at the rude interruption to the smooth running of his kingdom, had come to the table to protest.
However, he was waved away by a clearly now furious Joanovici, although not before Lafarge ordered another cognac.
“Luizet, I protest at the defamatory remarks made by the Chief Inspector about my client. They are totally out of order and if repeated you can expect a civil suit against the Paris police force and you personally, Lafarge,” spluttered Duhamel self-righteously.
Lafarge, who to his relief felt his heartbeat returning to something like normal after his outburst, laughed at the remark, but before he could reply Luizet cut in.
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Maître Duhamel. While I find regrettable the Chief Inspector’s raised voice, let’s not cast your client as a saint,” said Luizet, his tone calm.
“Chief Inspector, I apologise for not informing you before we came here, events rather overtook me which I think you can understand, but the reason Joanovici will not be returning with us to the Quai is because he is one of our men.
“Well when I say one of our men what I mean is he has provided us with useful intelligence both on present events and during the past four years,” added Luizet, delivering this devastating revelation as if he was reading out the weather forecast.
The tone may have been matter-of-fact but the content left Lafarge stunned. He was mightily relieved the cognac had been brought to the table. He took a long slug of it allowing the information to sink in.
