Obscure Intentions

by Anthony J Harrison

  “Thank you.” Walking past the sorted tables and chairs, Geneviève knocked on the door.

  “Come on in,” a man’s voice said from the other side.

  Entering the office, she noticed Captain Lemieux sitting at the makeshift desk with his counterpart sitting opposite him. “You wanted to see me?” she asked, closing the door behind her.

  “Yes. This is Captain Soucy,” Lemieux introduced, motioning to the other officer. “One of his men has come across information about Hakim Talib and where we have him detained.”. Giving the note to Geneviève, he continued. “The note provides clarification Omar Khalid is behind the Italian’s effort to abduct you as well.”

  “How do we use this information to our advantage?” she asked, wishing the nightmare of being stalked to an end.

  “Good question. The best way is to set up a sting operation to arrest the men trying to free Talib,” Captain Soucy said. “But it likewise puts my agents at risk of being found out.”

  “I don’t want to risk the work you and your people have put in,” Claude said. “It may be time to return our suspect back to the general populace of prison. Which one is the problem. We don’t want him going to Fleury-Mérogis Prison; the Muslims there won’t take to getting a drug dealer sent to them.”

  “What about Clairvaux Prison?” Geneviève asked.

  “His crime doesn’t call for that form of treatment,” Claude said. “I’m not sure we could convince Monsieur Chevallier to sign the petition and forward it to Paris anyway,” he explained, wringing his hands together.

  “That just leaves Fresnes, since La Santé is still going through its modernization,” Captain Soucy said. “Either facility you send him to will be a resort compared to the dungeon he’s in now.”

  The three officers sat in silence, each one struggling with the potential need to move the prisoner from his current location. Captain Lemieux’s mind raced with possibilities of what could go wrong in moving Talib from the cell at Il d’If. “When was the last usable bit of information we got from the suspect?”

  Geneviève looked at her partner before speaking. “It was the location of the warehouse.”

  “And nothing more useful from him since then?”

  “No. I mean, we’ve never been made aware of more than that. Why?”

  “What are you thinking, Claude?” Captain Soucy asked, seeing the detective’s forehead wrinkled in thought.

  “If we’ve milked him dry for everything he possibly knew of the drug operations,” Claude began, getting up from the chair, “and all we’ve got was the location of a warehouse, it might be the only thing he knew.”

  “So, you don’t think his value is in what he knew of the operation?” Soucy asked.

  “No. I’m thinking it’s more about his relationship with Khalid,” Claude answered.

  “He’s family,” Geneviève blurted out.

  “Exactly. He’s related to Khalid; presumably a nephew, right?”

  “Of course,” Geneviève said. “When I was with Inspector Haddad, we reviewed the file on Khalid. It showed he had a brother.” She closed her eyes to concentrate. “The brother was killed during the uprising for liberation by the Algerians. The report said a Legionnaire was responsible for slaying him. Then it’s possible Hakim Talib is his nephew. But what about Louis Remesy? Who is he to Khalid?” she asked.

  “Who is this Remesy you mentioned?” Soucy asked.

  “He’s a suspect wanted by Scotland Yard for drug trafficking,” Claude said. “Detective Benoit tracked him to a meeting with Khalid in Algiers after he left Marseille.” He proceeded to give the Gang Enforcement captain a brief synopsis of Geneviève’s encounter in Algiers.

  “You kicked three assailants’ asses by yourself?” Soucy asked. “I’ve heard the stories about a female officer ruining several officers’ ego with their hand-to-hand combat skills. That was you?”

  “I took several self-defense classes when I was young,” Geneviève said, embarrassed to admit her accomplishments.

  “Going back to the Algerian’s note,” Claude said, breaking the awkward silence building between Soucy and Benoit, “we’ve an opportunity to act against Khalid if we play our cards right.”

  “What are you thinking about?” Geneviève asked. “From what I gathered in Algiers, he won’t leave his compound unless under heavy guard.”

  “You said it yourself. Remesy is probably related somehow, too,” Claude said. “I can’t think he’d stand idle if he knew he had a chance at freeing a family member from custody. All we have to do is set a date and offer them with the proper incentive to act. But, before we do anything else, I need a cup of coffee.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The computer hummed as the turntable spun the computer disc inside. Louis ran his fingers across the keyboard, typing in the security code to open the files he’d accumulated on the Carbone family over the years. As the computer screen flashed, his chair was squealed in protest while he leaned back. The opening of a soda can jerked him back to the present as Julien handed over the drink.

  “Does Gregory know you’ve kept separate files on the Carbone contingent?” Julien asked, nodding towards the screen.

  “He knows I was gathering information on all the organizations here in Marseille,” Louis said, watching the images of papers slide from one folder to another on the screen. “I just gathered more on Claudio, that’s all. I started these files when we were still in Toulon,” he explained, tapping his finger on the second disc.

  “So, you don’t trust Claudio?”

  “Let’s just say he wasn’t happy to lose the shipping firm to Gregory and me from his uncle,” Louis said. “But he still didn’t have it in him to rid the family of his brother either when they found out he was gay.” Tapping out a new command on the keyboard, Louis had the computer humming again, this time saving the data from the first disc.

  “I’ve got a feeling Greg’s desire for information on the Italian’s attempted abduction of the policewoman will drag us into something worse,” he said, sipping the cola. “And I’m inclined to have something to negotiate with before it gets out of hand.”

  “Do you think we can get the Algerians and Italians working against each other?”

  “I’m not concerned about that,” Louis said. “I don’t want have to glance over my shoulder wondering who’s coming after me if I can help it. If it means getting information to the police so they can apprehend the Algerians, then so be it.”

  The low tone of the security device attached to the front door echoed through the office, causing each man to turn his attention to the CCTV monitor. In the screen, the image of their friend Gregory heading to the stairway was recorded.

  Entering the office, the head of Papillion Transport had the expression of a man preparing to attack at a moment’s notice. “Who the hell does that little prick think he is?” he stammered as he grabbed a seat near Louis.

  “You’re talking about Claudio, right?”

  “Of course, I am, damn it,” he snapped back. “I’m sorry, yes, it’s Claudio. He demanded we commit to moving 1,000 kilos of heroin a month for him,” Gregory replied. “He said it was a small price to pay for passing along the information to Khalid.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself down. “However, he likewise mentioned he would help us in the event Giuseppe talks about our operations.”

  “How did he know about Geno?” Louis asked.

  “Because I told him,” Gregory sighed. “With him getting arrested, I wanted to find out who he was working for besides us.” Pointing to the flashing prompt on the screen, he changed the subject. “What are you copying there on the computer?”

  “I was reading over some older files I gathered on Carbone when we moved here from Toulon,” Louis replied, sliding the cursor over the “next” button and clicking the mouse.

  “How did Claudette look?”

  “She looked a bit rattled, but other than that, she held her own,” Julien answered before Loui
s could. “But when we met her, a female police officer was following her. Come to think of it, she might have been the same one from the market I saw last month.”

  “She’s the one who shot me,” Louis added.

  “How sure are you?” Gregory asked. “Did she recognize you?”

  “Longer hair, scraggly beard and almost no limb to speak of,” Louis answered. “What’s to recognize from eight weeks ago?” he asked, moving his chair back. “Plus, I’ve kept in the shadows most days and stayed away from our usual haunts.”

  Just as Gregory stood up, Louis’s cell phone played a popular ringtone announcing an incoming call. Snagging it, he answered the call. “Hello, Hector.”

  “I wonder if Hector knows the ringtone Louis chose for him is about letting the dogs out,” Julien chuckled, catching snippets of the conversation.

  Even Gregory had to smile at the thought. His amusement didn’t last long as he returned to the task at hand. Getting Nazim and Omar Khalid to act on the information of Hakim’s location and knowing the police were using experimental drugs for interrogation weighed heavy on his mind.

  “Hector and Pasqual are wondering where you want to meet up,” Louis said, holding his hand over the phone.

  “Romain and Elise said they’ll meet us near the equestrian academy in the Palama district tomorrow at eight o’clock,” Gregory replied. “They’ll have everything we need for the day.”

  Louis passed along the information to the two other members before hanging up. Finishing his soda, he tossed the can into the trash before turning back to Gregory. “I hate to ask, but when does Claudio expect us to begin this drug trafficking for him?”

  “He said they’ll have a shipment ready by mid-September,” he replied. “But the departure point is Izmir, not Istanbul. It suggests Claudio’s former associates aren’t as welcome in the capital when it comes to the smuggling business.”

  “And what are we going to do about our contacts in Istanbul?” Louis asked. “You don’t expect them to move 500 kilometers just to help us with a sleight of hand with our documents, do you?”

  “We’ll need to ask Ahmet for some recommendations, I suppose,” Gregory replied. “Until then, we’ll focus on what we can control ourselves. Have we gotten any word from Sebastian and the De Gaulle?”.

  “They’ll be done off-loading by midnight,” Julien replied after grabbing a clipboard from the table. “We just need to give them a destination and cargo manifest to create a loading plan.”

  “Then let’s get busy, shall we?” Gregory said sitting behind his desk. “The Joan of Arc will arrive the day after tomorrow from Alexandria and I’ll want to get her back out to sea as quickly as possible.”

  ***

  With fresh cups of coffee, Captain Lemieux and Detective Benoit sat outside Captain Duval’s office waiting for his return. “After we brief the captain, I’ll go and discuss things with Captain Georges so he’s not caught by surprise,” Claude said.

  “And what do you want me to do?” Geneviève asked.

  “You’re going to contact the detention supervisor and make arrangements for us to return to the island,” he said. “Once we’re there, we’ll prepare our guest for his return to the mainland and a proper prison cell.”

  “Won’t we be risking someone spotting him and getting word back to Khalid?”

  Tossing the now empty cup in the trash, Claude turned to Geneviève. “That’s part of the plan. If we can tease Khalid with our suspect, we just might get him to do something rash. Or we’ll see if this Remesy character is related by drawing him out.” He paused as the outer door opened to Captain Duval entering the office.

  “Captain Lemieux, are you here to brief me on your Italian suspects?” he asked, walking past the two officers. “Or is it about the news from Captain Soucy?”

  “A little of both,” Lemieux said, following Duval into the office with Geneviève following close behind. “It suggests the two Italians were part of a ploy to find out about our Algerian’s location.” Sitting across from his friend, Claude continued. “Looks as if an Algerian, Omar Khalid…”

  “The one Detective Benoit confronted in Algiers,” Duval interrupted.

  “Yes, sir. As I was saying,” he continued, “it appears Khalid contacted the Italians first to abduct Benoit, and when they failed, he reached out to a Maghrebi faction here in Marseille.”

  “But what does the attempt on Detective Benoit have to do with the suspect from the drug smuggling?” Duval asked, nodding towards Geneviève.

  “We believe Hakim Talib is related to Khalid,” Geneviève added to the discussion.

  “I think now would be the best time to move Talib off the island and place him into the general populace at one of the mainland prisons,” Claude added.

  “But Captain Soucy can’t say how this gang got their information on your suspect on Il d’If, can he?” Duval asked.

  “No, he can’t,” Claude said. “We both believe there might be someone on the force either being paid to furnish the information or they are being blackmailed for some other reason.”

  “And why I’ve turned the information over to Internal Affairs,” the senior officer said. “I want you and your detectives focused on finding out about the drug smuggling and this missing freighter associated with Papillion Transport. A vessel that size doesn’t set sail and disappear without a reason,” he continued. “And since the British have tied it to smuggling, I want to show we haven’t given up on them, do you both understand?”

  Each of the detectives looked to blink in unison at the statement made by their superior. Finally, Geneviève cleared her throat and spoke ahead of her partner. “But what about Talib, sir? If we can, shouldn’t we seize the opportunity to flush out who’s responsible for leaking the information about him?” she asked. “And maybe, just maybe, catch Khalid and Remesy in the process as well?”

  Captain Duval leaned back in his chair. Observing the detective, he could see the reason in her argument. Nonetheless, he knew better than to trade someone’s life, even one of a suspect, to catch others of wrongdoing. “You would make a fine lawyer, Detective Benoit,” he said. “But we don’t want to tip our hand about the suspect and lose everything prematurely.”

  “What are you suggesting, Julien...? I’m sorry... Captain Duval.” Claude asked.

  “Right after I was briefed on the situation, I requested a second security detail be dispatched to the island,” he explained, getting up from his desk. “They’ve been in place since last night. And it sounds none too soon either.,

  “Why do you say that?”

  He glanced out the window towards the harbor. “Dispatch received a call from the tour office this morning about a group asking for passage on the first vessel this morning,” the captain said. “This group consisted of fourteen men and six women. The same number making up our regular security detail for the facility.”

  A gentle knock on the door interrupted the conversation as Captain Duval’s clerk entered. “I’m sorry, sir, but you asked for this information be brought to you as soon as we got it from Paris,” she said, handing over a folder.

  “Thank you, Patrice,” Duval said, taking the documents from her.

  Examining the contents for a few minutes, his outer expression changed from being in control to confusion as his brow furrowed and his lower lip curled inward. Holding the folder out, he handed it over to Claude. “Well, it appears your owners are not who they say they are,” he confirmed, grabbing a bottle water from his desk.

  “What do you...” Geneviève asked, only to be stopped by Claude’s raised hand.

  After several awkward minutes, Claude looked up at his friend and captain before he spoke. “Is Paris sure about this?” he asked. “If what’s in here is true, we may never know the truth,” he muttered, closing the file.

  “What is it, Claude?”

  Tossing the folder on the desk, he turned to his partner. “According to what was found in central records, it would appear the tw
o owners of Papillion Transport were declared dead ten years ago.”

  “How though? We’ve records of their ownership in the company,” she asked.

  “What the detectives in Paris found were accounts of the two men making a business trip to South America, but never returning,” Claude said.

  “The more disturbing part: one of them, Emilio Carbone, was a close relative of Paul Carbone. It might be someone in the family still running the business.”

  “That would explain their involvement with drug smuggling,” Geneviève said. “It all makes perfect sense now.”

  “How do you explain their disappearance, then?” Claude asked.

  “They left the country and had their features altered,” the detective said. “And after they recovered, they returned after assuming new appearances under the same name. All that would be needed would be an altered birth certificate, I’m sure.”

  Captain Duval sat listening, his hands set under his chin in a manner exhibiting the act of praying as he listened. “You make a compelling argument, detective. However, the archives in Paris further held copies of death certificates in the files. Which means someone has assumed their identities to facilitate running the business.”

  “So, what’s our....” Claude asked before being interrupted by Captain Duval’s desk phone.

  Stabbing the speaker button, Duval answered. “What is it Patrice?”

  “We just received a call from the detail on Il d’If. There appears to be an altercation amongst a group of tourists near the docks,” the clerk declared.

  “Very well. Have Captain Georges and his team alerted and prepare a motor launch for their use,” Duval said, ending the call. Turning to Lemieux and Benoit he added, “It suggests the Algerians are possibly acting on their information.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A group of tourists, led by two women, walked amongst the ruins of the crumbling citadel, taking in the remnants of the past conquerors’ lives from the fifteenth century. As each member strolled through the various passages, they each looked at the location of security cameras and sensors.