Rough Trade Read Online Free
Author: Dominique Manotti
Tags: Crime, Detective and Mystery Fiction
the heels of that, for the murder of a cop who was chasing him. Not only that: between eighteen and twenty, he was arrested several times by the Istanbul police because he made a living as a prostitute in the tourist areas.’
His chief glanced over his glass. There, I’ve caught his interest, Daquin thought. He could swear that his eyes held a smile, but he chose to ignore both the smile and its innuendo.
‘He seemed to me to correspond exactly to the profile I was looking for. We provoked a brawl in a bistro where he hung out, arrested twenty or so guys, and dispersed them among the police stations in the arrondissement. The following day, my young assassin was in my office. There I forced him to accept or refuse: either he stirred himself and got me leads on drugs in the Sentier, or I sent him straight back to Turkey. It didn’t work right away. So, I threw in the bit about the drug network being controlled by the Turkish extreme right. If he gave me these tip-offs, I’d liquidate the extreme right, and then he could do what he liked with his mates: legalizing illegal workers, I don’t give a toss. I added a couple of remarks about what the effect would be if his mates found out he’d been a prostitute. I told him the Turkish police had sent us photos – which wasn’t true – but it worked. Yesterday, he gave me our first lead. But this morning two inspectors from the Local Squad in passage du Désir came to see me. Yesterday they found a body in a workroom in the Sentier, a girl of twelve or thirteen, a Thai, probably a prostitute. And, in the same workroom, two bags which had contained heroin – the purest sort – exactly what we’re looking for. About a kilo’s worth. Which could be the start of a second lead.’
‘Brilliant job, my dear Théo, and when all’s said and done, in record time. So, what is it you’re asking for?’
‘Well, first, I wanted to put you in the picture, as regards my snout, bearing in mind the current unrest among the Turkish workforce. Then, the body in the workroom. The workroom manager ’s in police custody, but time’s running out for that, and the case belongs to Crime. I’d like to be able to keep the follow-up of the inquiry into this murder, since it’s probably linked to drug trafficking , and for that augment my team with the two inspectors from the Local Squad who’ve let us take part in it, and who’ve already been very impressive. We’ve everything to gain by this.’
‘It’s a reasonable request. We’ll extend police custody for your man, and I’ll give you an official reply as to the rest tomorrow; but, for my part, I agree. I should also tell you that the Marseilles team has drawn a complete blank. In spite of the, let’s say, “insistent” leads from the Americans. And in spite of promising beginnings. You remember that haul of six kilos of morphine-base found in the tyre of an Armenian’s car last December? Since, then, nothing – impossible to find where the network starts. We’ve just folded up the team. Daquin, don’t put your trust in appearances, don’t believe I haven’t listened to you with the utmost attention. I really like your approach to your work.’
* In France an inspector is roughly equivalent to a detective or an American lieutenant.
3 W EDNESDAY 5 M ARCH
8 a.m. Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Martin
Attali took the first surveillance shift – from when the sandwich shop opened. They were in an apartment belonging to a patrolman from the 10th arrondissment police station, retired for almost fifteen years. It was Meillant, the Superintendent from the 10th, who introduced them. Third floor, almost opposite the shop. Two tiny rooms, but with two big windows on the street, massive dark wood furniture, small kitchen, bog and so forth: every modern comfort. Attali had sunk into a large high-backed armchair by the window, the telephoto lens trained on the shop entrance, a truly comfortable situation. The old man wandered
His chief glanced over his glass. There, I’ve caught his interest, Daquin thought. He could swear that his eyes held a smile, but he chose to ignore both the smile and its innuendo.
‘He seemed to me to correspond exactly to the profile I was looking for. We provoked a brawl in a bistro where he hung out, arrested twenty or so guys, and dispersed them among the police stations in the arrondissement. The following day, my young assassin was in my office. There I forced him to accept or refuse: either he stirred himself and got me leads on drugs in the Sentier, or I sent him straight back to Turkey. It didn’t work right away. So, I threw in the bit about the drug network being controlled by the Turkish extreme right. If he gave me these tip-offs, I’d liquidate the extreme right, and then he could do what he liked with his mates: legalizing illegal workers, I don’t give a toss. I added a couple of remarks about what the effect would be if his mates found out he’d been a prostitute. I told him the Turkish police had sent us photos – which wasn’t true – but it worked. Yesterday, he gave me our first lead. But this morning two inspectors from the Local Squad in passage du Désir came to see me. Yesterday they found a body in a workroom in the Sentier, a girl of twelve or thirteen, a Thai, probably a prostitute. And, in the same workroom, two bags which had contained heroin – the purest sort – exactly what we’re looking for. About a kilo’s worth. Which could be the start of a second lead.’
‘Brilliant job, my dear Théo, and when all’s said and done, in record time. So, what is it you’re asking for?’
‘Well, first, I wanted to put you in the picture, as regards my snout, bearing in mind the current unrest among the Turkish workforce. Then, the body in the workroom. The workroom manager ’s in police custody, but time’s running out for that, and the case belongs to Crime. I’d like to be able to keep the follow-up of the inquiry into this murder, since it’s probably linked to drug trafficking , and for that augment my team with the two inspectors from the Local Squad who’ve let us take part in it, and who’ve already been very impressive. We’ve everything to gain by this.’
‘It’s a reasonable request. We’ll extend police custody for your man, and I’ll give you an official reply as to the rest tomorrow; but, for my part, I agree. I should also tell you that the Marseilles team has drawn a complete blank. In spite of the, let’s say, “insistent” leads from the Americans. And in spite of promising beginnings. You remember that haul of six kilos of morphine-base found in the tyre of an Armenian’s car last December? Since, then, nothing – impossible to find where the network starts. We’ve just folded up the team. Daquin, don’t put your trust in appearances, don’t believe I haven’t listened to you with the utmost attention. I really like your approach to your work.’
* In France an inspector is roughly equivalent to a detective or an American lieutenant.
3 W EDNESDAY 5 M ARCH
8 a.m. Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Martin
Attali took the first surveillance shift – from when the sandwich shop opened. They were in an apartment belonging to a patrolman from the 10th arrondissment police station, retired for almost fifteen years. It was Meillant, the Superintendent from the 10th, who introduced them. Third floor, almost opposite the shop. Two tiny rooms, but with two big windows on the street, massive dark wood furniture, small kitchen, bog and so forth: every modern comfort. Attali had sunk into a large high-backed armchair by the window, the telephoto lens trained on the shop entrance, a truly comfortable situation. The old man wandered
Readers choose
Sa'Rese Thompson.
Madelynne Ellis
Highland Scandal
Randolph Lalonde
Ava Meyers
John le Carré
Lisa Plumley
H.F. Saint
T K Williams-Nelson