She sighs. “You make it sound as if I were your enemy. Jeez, why do you always see things in black-and-white only, Marc?”
“Black-and-white?” I want to laugh, but it comes out as a snort. “Black-and-black is more like it. With some interspersed dark grey hues. And maybe patches of red. Blood-red.”
She throws up her hands. “But that’s not how reality is! Reality comes in colours, many of them. And light and shadow and transparencies.”
I snort again. “Transparencies!” I hiss. “Coming from you, that’s rich! All you did was lie to me.”
Jane picks up her book. “Do you want me to leave? Or do you want me to explain?”
“I’m not sure I’m willing to believe any explanations, but have a try.”
Absentmindedly she touches the corner of the book, bends it upwards, lets the pages rustle. “I did try to warn you. Tried to make you change your way of living and fall into line. Everybody did. Your mother…” I grumble something that she ignores. “… your sisters, your friends.”
“Which friends?”
“Alessandra. And Gloria.”
“Jesus, Alessandra asked me more or less to marry her! You must have known I would refuse. And Gloria only asked me to help her out so that she could upload your spy program on my mobile. How stupid do you think I am?”
She seems to think this over. “I underestimated you, I admit. I thought a bit of pressure, and you would give in.”
“A bit of pressure? I was almost killed in Turkey, for Christ’s sake!”
“No one could foresee that you’d up and go to Turkey, you moron! Over there the rules are different. And our influence less important than we would like…”
I feel exhausted all of a sudden. If this conversation had only concerned me, I would have stood up and walked away. But now another person was involved, and I couldn’t let him down. “Never mind,” I say. “I need your help, and I ask you to stop your games with me.”
“You know I can’t just ‘stop my games,’ as you say. My superiors want results.”
“You can tell them I know where the money is. I’m going to bring it back to France. But they can’t have it. It’s rightfully my family’s.”
Jane stares at me, incredulous. “Your family? Are you mad?”
Unflinching, I stare back, hoping that my bluff will work. “Maybe. Most importantly, though, I’m someone who has nothing left to lose. Whether I live or die, I just don’t care anymore. But I swear to all that you hold dear that I’ll bring the money back and leave it to my heirs.”
She tries to interrupt, but I cut her off with a brisk movement of my hand. “I don’t care about Mother. I don’t even care about Raphaëlle or Angélique, not anymore. But I owe it to my daughter to give her the part of Father’s money that she’s entitled to have. So, whatever you decide, you need to know that I’ll make sure she gets her part. You’d have to shoot me here and now to prevent me from carrying out that plan.”
Jane stares into space for a while. “You won’t survive it. Even if I tried to help you, others would take you down.”
“Then make me vanish. That’s all I ask of you.”
“Vanish?”
“I’m sure you can find a way to make me disappear.”
“The Dyke Network, maybe…,” she mumbles to herself.
I can’t help but snort again. “I’m not a dyke, in case you haven’t noticed yet.”
“Marc—to be literal-minded only gets you so far. But I guess something can be organised that will remain outside the government circuits. Something the details of which even I won’t know. Give me a week to contact the right people.”
“That’s perfect. I also need a week, roughly, to get the money. Just a week during which you need to put your goons on a false track.”
Jane looks at me wonderingly. “You know what you’re asking for, do you, son?”
“I do. Oh, and for the record—your arrangements should include a plus-one.”
I catch her by surprise, but she doesn’t comment.
The wind breathes through the branches, making the leaves swish and the pine needles murmur, while Jane and I stare at each other, wondering if there can be trust between us, asking us what the future will hold.
Part Ten | Ordinary Headlines
Forgeron’s son reports to Bercy for tax evasion
AC (Le Figaro)
The young man has repatriated ten million euros from foreign accounts, he says. His action could lead to a penalty of more than two million euros, according to fiscal experts.
The new Minister of Budget, Public Accounts, and Civil Administration Valérie Pécresse, who took up her post on June 29, vowed to continue the government’s fight against tax evasion with the same determination as her predecessors. She has had a first success: Marc Forgeron, son of former Secretary of State for Foreign Trade Jean-Marc Forgeron (1943-2011), announced in a press release that he had reported to Bercy.
According to his release published yesterday, Marc Forgeron earned over ten million euros with international tourism consulting deals. He deposited the money on several savings accounts in Austria, Luxemburg, Liechtenstein, and Jersey. “Although I didn’t mean any harm,” states Forgeron, “I was informed by my late father’s lawyer that I should have used my current account in France and should have declared this income to the public finance administration. I wish to clarify and legalise my situation and have therefore repatriated the money and sent a letter to the Minister of Budget, Public Accounts, and Civil Administration.”
On our request Madame Pécresse confirmed Forgeron’s claim: “Indeed I received his letter in which he expresses his regrets and explains he has acted ‘with the stupidity and rashness of youth.’ I instructed our services to look into the matter and start negotiations with Monsieur Forgeron’s lawyers. Our goal is to punish unrepentant tax evasion but reward those who have omitted or forgotten to declare to our administration their income from abroad as well as the sums detained on international accounts.”
Fiscal experts say the penalty in this case could amount to more than two million euros but will certainly be reduced because Forgeron has shown his good will.
Tea, Cake, and Scoops—
Exclusive Interview with Monie
Jean-Hugues Delfont
Photos by Daniel Pereira (Paris Match)
She’s perhaps one of the most enigmatic singers of our time, certainly a national treasure, and has been absent from stage and television for far too long: Monique Forgeron, better known as Monie. Monie, the legend. Who doesn’t remember her songs, which made her so famous in the sixties and seventies? “René, tu m’as fait souffrir,” “Les fi-filles et les garçons”—we could go on and on as her short career was filled with gems and number one hits. From the beginning Monie didn’t give many interviews and stopped seeing the press completely after her marriage to former Secretary of State Jean-Marc Forgeron, only recently deceased. That’s why it’s a mind-blowing privilege for us to be welcomed in her new home.
The apartment building in the 7th arrondissement of Paris, set in a quiet side street behind the Invalides, is a masterpiece of late Haussmannian architecture. To be honest, the photographer and I are very nervous when we ring the bell on the seventh floor. But as soon as Monie opens the door, she gracefully puts us at ease, ushering us into the tastefully decorated living room with an open smile. I have to admit, I find her stunningly beautiful in that simple black turtleneck sweater and those dark grey slacks she’s wearing. Her sparkling eyes take us in with an amused twinkle.
“I’ve prepared tea and some light refreshments on the terrace,” she says with that incomparable, rich voice of hers that has made generations of music lovers swoon. She shows us the way, and we both gasp when we discover the absolutely fabulous view of the city stretching to the horizon. The Eiffel Tower rises to our left, the golden dome of the I
nvalides glitters before us. We can see the Sacré-Cœur in the distance, and on the other side stands the Tour de Montparnasse like a modern-day guardian.
While Daniel tries to find the best place where to take photos—an exceedingly difficult task as everywhere you look, it’s picture-perfect—Monie pours us a cup of rich, golden tea, the fragrance of which shows that her great taste doesn’t stop at furniture or clothing. She invites us coyly to have a piece of the cake, which she has placed in the middle of the charmingly dressed table, a cake so elegant it could have been provided by the best pâtissiers of Paris.
“I hope you’ll like it,” she breathes. “It’s a new recipe I tried out this morning.” We don’t know what to say, blown away by the knowledge that she has baked this mouth-watering cake herself.
“I feel so honoured to have you here”
I have to clear my throat, overcome with emotion, as I say, “You really shouldn’t have bothered, Madame Forgeron…”
“Please, call me Monie,” she smiles. “And do sit down, I beg you. We’re entre nous, amongst friends, after all. Truth be told, I feel so honoured to have you here.”
Luckily, I have prepared my questions before and can focus on the sheet in my hands, because her devastating smile would have confounded me otherwise, draining me of any clear thoughts. And she feels honoured? The honour is all ours.
PARIS MATCH: “Monie, first of all, I gather I’m speaking on behalf of the whole country when I express my most sincere condolences. The sudden death of your husband must have been an immense shock…”
Monie (dabs her eyes, which have filled up with tears): “How sweet of you! And yes, I admit, I still cannot believe Jean-Marc isn’t here by my side any longer.”
“I still cannot believe Jean-Marc isn’t here by my side”
Paris Match: “You have been married for…”
Monie: “… for over thirty-five years. A wonderful, happy time. I simply didn’t see the years go by.”
Paris Match: “Understandably. Even if you left the stage after your wedding and shunned interviews ever since, you must have been very busy.”
Monie: “Oh yes. Being a politician’s wife is a full-time job, in fact. Especially when you consider Jean-Marc’s calibre. I accompanied him to meetings, travelled the country from end to end to gather support and promote his progressist ideas. I’ve always believed in him and supported Jean-Marc as best as I could throughout these years. It was my duty, you see, but I cannot lie: I took much delight in my role since we loved each other so dearly and simply couldn’t bear to be separated. Things got even more time-consuming when his party won the elections and Jean-Marc was chosen to join the government. I also have three wonderful children. It was a real pleasure to raise them and make sure ours was a loving household where they could grow up knowing they were cherished and loved. But raising children takes much time and energy, too. I’m so glad to see them leading fulfilled lives themselves, now. They are my greatest pride and joy, to be honest.” (Her eyes shimmer with love.)
Paris Match: “Hasn’t it ever been… too much for you? Didn’t you ever feel overwhelmed? A successful singer who has to end her career and play the role of a politician’s wife instead…”
“My destiny? Being a loving wife, a support for my husband, and a caring mother—it’s the most beautiful career for a woman”
Monie: “Oh, no. I’ve loved every second, let me assure you. I think this was simply my destiny. Being a loving wife, a support for my husband, and a caring mother—it’s the most beautiful career a woman can dream of.”
Paris Match: “Apart from all these tasks, we’ve found out you have always been, and still are, very active in countless charitable works…”
Monie (taken aback): “How did you find out? I’ve always tried to be very discreet. I’ve never really liked to stand in the spotlight if I could avoid it.”
Paris Match: “It was tough to find out about that aspect of your life, but maybe I’m just good at my job… When I probed a bit, people were finally willing to admit all the good work you’ve been doing over the years.”
Monie (dabs her eyes again, moved): “How absolutely sweet of them! It was nothing, I assure you. Just, you know, trying to help those who haven’t been as privileged as I have been. I’ve always believed in Jean-Marc’s ideas and his faith in humanity, so it felt natural to become engaged in these charities.” (She chokes up at the memory of her late husband.) “I do count myself very lucky to have had, and have, all this…” (She waves around to make us understand she’s talking about her amazing apartment in one of the most beautiful—and most expensive—arrondissements of Paris, but also her children, her late husband, her career.)
“I’ve always believed in Jean-Marc’s ideas and his faith in humanity, so it felt natural to become engaged in charities”
Paris Match: “You were talking about your children… How did you feel when you saw your son Marc making the headlines last week? What were your first thoughts?”
Monie: “Well, to be honest, I was relieved. I found it very brave of him to finally come out about his tax evasion attempts. Such a stupid thing to do! You know…” (She leans forward to let us in on a secret.) “Marc and I have always been very close. I think there’s a special relationship between a mother and her son. So, most naturally, before anything else, Marc came to ask my advice about those, er, secret accounts he had opened abroad…”
Paris Match: “You mean, you knew about the tax evasion?”
Monie: “Not at all. What a ridiculous thought. See, I’m just a woman… I don’t know a thing about money. Why, I never cared about that aspect of life. Money’s never been very important. But yes, Marc informed me that he had all that money on those anonymous accounts. He was devastated when I scolded him—I think he simply didn’t understand how wrong it was what he had done. Seeing him so scared and guilt-ridden, I advised him very gently to go straight to the Minister of Finance, who is a dear friend of mine, and be very open about the state of his affairs. A fault confessed is a fault half redressed, you know.”
Paris Match: “We heard that there could be some sort of financial and legal arrangement between the ministry and your son…”
Monie: “Yes, and I’m very relieved. The important thing is that the money is now duly declared and that my son pays the taxes and fines he owes. He was lucky enough to be legally advised by my late husband’s loyal consultant, Maître Chambard, a wise and level-headed man I’ve always trusted.
“My son Marc asked my advice about his tax evasion attempts”
Paris Match: “Now for something completely different. Dear Monie… I’ve heard some fabulous rumours, and I hope I may be so bold as to ask you straight away…”
Monie (dazzling smile): “Please, ask me anything you want.”
Paris Match: “Is it true that you’re thinking about filling your countless fans out there with joy… by finally having your comeback?”
Monie (again astonished): “Where have you heard this? We thought we were being so discreet…”
Paris Match: “We?”
Monie (shyly): “Maybe you remember Jean-Paul Galieni? When I started singing, he was my agent and manager…”
Paris Match (excitedly): “Of course! He’s the man behind so many marvellous careers…”
“Jean-Paul Galieni, my agent and manager, was a beacon in the night, an incomparable source of strength”
Monie: “Yes, yes, that he certainly is. Well, when my dear husband passed away…” (She needs to dry her eyes once more.) “Anyway, when I was suddenly all alone, forced to deal with this horrible event, Jean-Paul was there from the very first second. He was a beacon in the night, an incomparable source of strength. If it weren’t for him, I can’t tell you where I would be today. Finally, he convinced me that Jean-Marc wouldn’t have wanted me to drown in my grief; he would have wanted me to carry on with my li
fe.”
Paris Match: “So, Jean-Paul Galieni is the man we should thank for… your possible comeback?”
Monie (blushes): “Well, to be honest, he simply talked me into it. He was very persuasive. For many days I didn’t want to hear what he was saying, but in the end, he made me surrender, so to say. He simply wore me out. Moreover, once my son Marc heard about the project, he simply insisted I must do it.”
Paris Match: “This sounds all so exciting, Monie! Can you tell us a bit more about your projects, then?”
“My projects? A remastered ‘Best of’ album, and then I’ll be back in the recording studios for a new album”
Monie: “We’re still in the planning stage. But I guess I can reveal certain things to you. First, there’ll be a remastered ‘Best of’ album that’ll be released at the end of the summer, with all my greatest hits. And…” (She makes a dramatic pause, which, I confess, makes my heart beat faster.) “…then I’ll return to the studios to record a new album.”
Paris Match: “This is such wonderful news!”
Monie (eyes sparkling): “I’m really absolutely thrilled, Daniel. In fact, Jean-Paul persuaded me to have a go at some of the most famous Broadway songs. ‘Don’t Cry for me, Argentina,’ ‘The Phantom of the Opera,’ and maybe even a duet with Céline Dion… She’s been asking to sing with me for years, but of course, I had completely abandoned my musical career. So, this could be the perfect occasion to blend our two voices together… We haven’t chosen the song, yet, but who knows…” (She smiles enigmatically.)
Paris Match (almost too stunned to speak): “Congratulations, Monie—even if I should congratulate us, your fans. And thank you so much for having invited us here…”
Monie: “You’ve been most insistent, I have to say. But so charming, too. It was a real pleasure to chat with you.”
Mysterious Prison Suicide of Turkish Hotel owner
Clifford Ballinger (The Guardian)
Murat Zenkin, whose real estate company recently bought the prestigious Brown’s Hotel in Mayfair, London, was found dead last evening in his prison cell in Ankara, Turkey. The prison authorities claim he committed suicide. In a press conference held in London, two of Zenkin’s lawyers discredit the official cause of death and demand an independent post-mortem examination.
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