by Pirate Irwin
“You are a hero to half of Paris, and that number is growing by the day with the ‘master race’ starting to look anything but that.”
Lafarge performed a mock bow, though, he was restricted by being seated and his head brushed the top of his cognac glass.
“Enough of that,” said Drieu gesturing towards the cognac and after gaining the attention of a waiter he ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon, the most expensive champagne the Flore presently had in its cellar.
“Well come on Gaston it is not every day that I get to sit with a man who brought down one of the most powerful people in France. Even if he was technically speaking on my side and was effective initially in resolving the Jewish problem,” said Drieu.
Lafarge sighed and prayed that he wasn’t about to be treated to another of Drieu's monologues on the Jews, but thankfully their long friendship had taught the writer to hold his tongue.
“He was on his way out anyway, Drieu,” said Lafarge.
“What, he was on the way out of the office when you caught him?” said Drieu laughing at his own joke, which was par for the course.
“Come come don’t be so modest. I would like to know how you managed to persuade the great man to vacate his premises,” said Drieu leaning towards Lafarge and at the same time blowing smoke into his eyes.
Lafarge coughed and wiped his eyes to rid himself of the stinging sensation and told Drieu everything. He had given his word to Bousquet that he would guard for himself why he had stepped down, but now he was gone and he had got what he wanted he didn’t feel he was beholden to him.
Besides it was the reason he had arranged to see Drieu. He would have told him even if Bousquet had refused to resign as he owed it to his friend who had been involved in the story from the start and had pointed him in the direction of Limoges.
Drieu sat quietly listening attentively until Lafarge had finished.
“Have you heard from de Chastelain since? Or this Doctor?” he asked.
“No, but I didn’t furnish him with our address in Nice, so there is no way he could have contacted me. I’m not worried. No news is good news in my book,” he said.
“I guess so. You still think that he was innocent? That you did the right thing?” asked Drieu.
Lafarge thought for a minute.
“Yes, I’m comfortable with what I did. As indeed I am with regard to pushing Bousquet to take early retirement,” he replied.
“De Chastelain’s story rang true when he told it to me and the maid supported his version, though, it took her some time to admit as much. She is pretty suspicious herself to be honest, seems to enjoy playing one person off against another,” he added.
“So by the laws of elimination Gaston it has to be the German, von Dirlinger,” said Drieu.
“Yup with the other two out of the running it looks that way, although Mathilde is adamant she doesn’t think he did it. Of all of them I think the maid is capable of having murdered Marguerite but on the other hand she doesn’t have the power to go after the rest of the group,” said Lafarge.
“Well I wish you luck with von Dirlinger, he’s a slippery character. I don’t really think his heart is in the Nazi cause to be honest, only to enrich himself, but if he is indeed involved with Lafont and Bonny you better be careful.
“Mind you there are less and less people who seem as fervent in their support of the Nazis since their fortunes declined on the battlefield,” said Drieu.
Lafarge raised his glass and mouthed ‘Hallelujah’, to which Drieu smiled.
“I crossed paths with two Wehrmacht officers in the train on the way up from Nice and they didn’t look too cheerful, less of a strut to their step. However, you look around here and nobody either in or out of uniform seems too preoccupied with the predictions of imminent defeat,” said Lafarge.
“Well that’s because they are thanking their lucky stars they are not on the Eastern Front. I shudder to think about the conditions there, and we have our boys in the French Volunteer Legion fighting alongside them poor sods,” said Drieu.
“You better be careful Gaston in case von Dirlinger punishes you by enrolling you in the Charlemagne and sends you out east!” added Drieu laughing.
Lafarge grimaced at the thought and reflected that Drieu might not be far wrong in that happening.
“No these people here are still cocooned in the relative comfort of a Parisian winter, though, many cannot afford or have access to coal or wood for their fires or heaters,” said Drieu.
“Well perhaps not most of us drinking here this evening, but judging by the length of the queues for bread and other basic goods, the shortages are affecting more and more people. Of course if you can afford to go, the cinema is the best refuge to at least warm yourself for an hour or so.
“Talking of which, over there, yes that stunning blonde, is the actress Maryse Arley.”
Lafarge looked over to where Drieu had gestured and saw that she was indeed striking, and surrounded by several admirers, none of them in uniform.
“Yes she is lovely looking, but so what,” said Lafarge.
Drieu smiled and gave Lafarge a knowing look.
“No, I didn’t sleep with her! Only she got a role that would have been Marguerite’s if she had lived. I don’t know if you had time to see ‘Les Corrupteurs’ before you took your unscheduled break last year, but she definitely has potential,” said Drieu.
Lafarge winced at the mention of the film, for though he hadn’t seen it he had heard it was a truly awful production with its sole purpose to show how dreadful the Jews were. In a way he was delighted that Marguerite had not lived to have her name associated with such vile fare.
“And what now for you? Are you going to stay or leave?” asked Drieu.
“Me? I'm finished here, at least for the immediate future. Massu told me as much after I dropped in to see him following Bousquet’s resignation. He didn’t rule out me returning yet again but he said he felt it better for me that I take a leave of absence.
“Besides I promised Isabella that we would review the situation after I wrapped things up here. Also with Joseph Darnand replacing Bousquet I have no hope of being retained. He is even more dangerous because he is a zealot as is clear from the brutal manner his Milice have behaved.”
Drieu nodded in agreement.
“Yes I think that would be good for you Gaston, Bousquet at least had a boundary he wouldn’t cross. He cared about being seen in a good light by both Vichy and the Nazis, so taking you out permanently would never have been an option.
“Darnand on the other hand is a mad dog, a warrior, and would prefer probably to be in full German uniform. Although I hear he even approached de Gaulle through intermediaries to see if he could go over to him and was rejected. Anyway now he knows there is no way out he will be ruthless and unleash his dogs of war on whoever crosses him.
“You my friend would be near the top of the list because you are no good at holding your tongue and besides I would imagine your dossier is awaiting his attention as soon as he settles down behind his desk,” said Drieu.
Lafarge grinned and attracted the waiter’s attention to bring a second bottle. He looked at his watch and saw it was six thirty and thought he better call it quits after this bottle and get back to see how Aimee was coping in ‘prison Lafarge’.
“And you Drieu, what are you going to do?” he asked.
Drieu’s expression changed from being cheerful, well with him it was relative, to a pensive look.
“Well that is an excellent question Gaston. What indeed does the future hold for me? The answer is not a very rosy one,” he said with a sad smile.
“I referred to those who had shall we say lost their faith earlier on and you raised your glass to that.
“Well you may be shocked to hear it from my lips but I am one of those. I haven’t lost my faith in Fascism as being the only ideology capable of installing order and combatting the baleful Satan that is Bolshevism.
“However, the Germans look
likely to fail this time both in defeating the Bolsheviks and resolving the Jewish question permanently. Therefore it will be left for another generation to prove more effective and more clinical in the execution of these crucial conflicts.
“Obviously I am desperately disappointed by this. I thought for so long that it was possible, but my hopes have, as well as those of many others, been dashed.
“Some will cling to the increasingly unlikely possibility of the Nazis turning things round, a miracle weapon or maybe more likely Stalin dying, how I pray for that, but even Brasillach is having his doubts.”
Lafarge was indeed surprised by his friend’s admission and his pessimistic forecast of the way the war would develop, Of course Drieu was no military man, but he mixed with high ranking German officers, SS types and bureaucrats and no doubt information from them had contributed to his conversion from confidence in ultimate victory to abject defeat.
Lafarge would not regret the defeat of the Nazis and their French allies but he did worry about what would happen to Drieu when the Germans eventually left Paris, which could still be a matter of years.
However, whenever that moment did arrive people would come hunting for Drieu. His public support for the Nazis and virulently anti–Semitic articles had made him one of the most high–profile and notorious of the clique of literary collaborators.
“Why not flee while you can Drieu? I can even help you, see if the Doctor is still operating,” said Lafarge patting his friend on the arm.
Drieu smiled at Lafarge’s unintended play on words, but his expression resumed its hangdog look almost immediately.
“No, that is very kind but I have decided I will stay. I have seen what I need to see of the rest of the world, and I cannot think of a country I could envisage hiding away in for probably the rest of my life. Besides it is not in my nature to bite my tongue and live quietly,” he said his voice trembling.
Lafarge sighed and clinked his glass against Drieu’s and when soon afterwards it came to say goodbye, he felt tears welling up as he knew that it would be the last time he saw him. Misguided and as unattractive as his opinions had been he would still miss him terribly.
While Drieu wandered off to hail a taxi and an evening at the Casino de Paris, another place Lafarge avoided owing to its tasteless notice posted outside ‘No Jews or dogs allowed’, he walked towards Rue Bonaparte, past the church of St Germain des Pres, to where he had parked his car.
He never reached the car. Waiting to cross the street he felt something pressed into the back of his spine. A man crossed the other side of the street and approached him while a black Citroen pulled up alongside them. The man stopped in front of Lafarge and smiled.
“Chief Inspector Lafarge. I’m Emmanuel Clausel, my colleague with the gun pointing at your spine is Florian Grandpierre, and you are to come with us,” said the smartly dressed man, neither whose name nor face were known to Lafarge.
Lafarge cursed inwardly, for he had been right he had been followed to the Flore but the champagne had made him careless.
“I don’t seem to have a choice do I? Although I wouldn’t mind knowing where the hell you are taking me,” he said.
Clausel smiled darkly as he relieved Lafarge of his service revolver.
“To Rue Lauriston. My bosses and indeed your sister are most anxious to see you,” he said.
Lafarge groaned and shook his head in despair as Clausel and Grandpierre pushed him roughly into the back of the car before taking their places either side of him.
*
His kidnappers deposited him at Rue Lauriston after a troublefree drive through largely deserted streets. Not a word passed between them while Lafarge had to try and suppress the nervousness he was feeling about what awaited him.
Clausel both in his classy manner of dressing and comportment didn’t strike Lafarge as a typical Lafont goon. But he didn’t probe and it was he who escorted him through the marble–floored hallway, and away from what sounded like a raucous party taking place in a room off it. They proceeded down a red–carpeted passageway which led to what he took to be the chief’s office.
This was pretty gaudy with mirrors on three of the walls and huge vases of lilies and orchids covering the Louis XV tables that lined the walls. There was a huge elegant mahogany topped desk with a chair like a throne behind it, and above it staring defiantly out over the room was a photograph of Hitler.
Lafarge breathed a sigh of relief that at least he hadn’t been taken downstairs from where, he had heard, few people emerged alive. Clausel fetched him a cognac, good quality too he noted when he took his first sip, and then stood guard silently at the gold–flaked double door.
Suddenly the doors burst open and in marched Bonny, his ratlike features bathed in a triumphant smile, and the rounder figure of Lafont, who looked as if he was going to a fancy dress party dressed as he was in his SS uniform.
Lafont patted Lafarge on the cheek and smiled at him before he took his place behind the desk, while Bonny stood to the side and Clausel having served them both drinks and refilled the detective’s glass exited.
Both Bonny and Lafont seemed to be well on their way to being drunk, which Lafarge didn’t think was a good omen as he couldn’t imagine they were good–natured drunks. Lafont, who had a good looking face which had gone to seed and was quite jowly, looked at him with a bored bleary–eyed expression on his face.
“So Chief Inspector I will get to the point as we have guests, influential ones too, and I don’t want business to ruin the evening, although your sister Vanessa is doing her usual excellent job as hostess. She is most accommodating if we ask her to be extra friendly to some of our German acquaintances,” said Lafont his voice crisp.
“So before I hand you over to Bonny, who I can’t tell you how much he is looking forward to being on his own with you after your brief encounter in that slut’s apartment, I would like to know what you intended to do about us and one of our German business partners.”
Lafarge took a sip of his cognac puffed on his cigarette and considered his response trying not to allow his fury at the remarks about his sister affect him. So she wasn’t just Bonny’s mistress they were also hiring her out as a prostitute, surely even she had a limit to the humiliations she could put up with.
“With regard to you and him,” he replied waving his hand dismissively in the direction of Bonny “nothing. However, tonight may change that. Von Dirlinger is another matter for I have other business with him.”
Lafont took a large puff of his cigar, rolled the smoke round his mouth and exhaled the smoke slowly.
“I don’t appreciate being threatened in my office Lafarge, better men and women than you have been very forthright in here and all of them have regretted it. All the same you are right. Tonight will indeed change things, but only in as much as you will no longer pose a threat to our arrangement with von Dirlinger,” said Lafont.
Lafarge tried to restrain himself from laughing but failed lamentably prompting Bonny to move menacingly towards him, only for Lafont to hold his hand up to stop him.
“What the fuck is so funny? I heard you were a puritanical holier than thou prick, but I didn’t know that you were also a bit soft in the head,” growled Lafont.
“Well really Lafont, you are so predictable with your lame impression of Al Capone. Do you really believe I thought I was brought here for a polite chat and a pull yourself together lecture? I’m not a rookie Lafont, even Bonny would vouch for that. I would rather be blunt and frank than go downstairs regretting I had held something back.
“So it is a pity you felt obliged to pick me up as I had no intention of trespassing on your territory. It is only your renegade German partner I wanted to punish. However, I see you have some sense of fidelity and are taking care of business for him. I am sure I will not be the first person you have helped disappear on his behalf.”
Lafont grunted and looked at Bonny, who had retreated a few steps.
“Well that leads me on to the se
cond and final question I wanted to ask you. That is where are the jewels?” asked Lafont, his beady eyes boring into Lafarge’s.
Lafarge shrugged.
“I have no idea. Why don’t you ask your business partner?” Lafarge said pointing at Bonny.
Bonny bristled and flexed his fists, but the detective could tell he had momentarily at least sown a seed of doubt in Lafont’s mind.
Lafont turned his gaze away from Lafarge and stared at Bonny.
“What the fuck Lafarge! Of course I didn’t find the jewels. Do you think I would screw you over René? This prick is trying to make trouble but he is lying,” protested Bonny.
“Oh well if that’s what your version is Bonny then so be it. I just wondered what all that clanking in your pockets was when I kicked your ass out of the apartment,” said Lafarge.
This proved too much for Bonny who walked over and punched Lafarge in the jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. Lafarge rubbed it gingerly, sensed it wasn’t broken, and rose to his feet his fists raised.
“Alright you two stop it!” said Lafont, who had remained seated enjoying the spectacle.
Bonny turned to Lafont and shook his head.
“Seriously René this guy is as you said soft in the head. He’s making all this up, trying to be too clever for his own good. I didn’t have a chance to search the whole apartment and I can assure you I didn’t find them in the one room I looked in,” said Bonny.
“We’re making too much money for me to go out on my own. Now that we have wiped out our opposition we have a monopoly, there is no way I would jeopardise that.”
Lafont nodded and looked at Lafarge raising his eyebrows.
“Well Chief Inspector? Do you have any actual evidence to support your accusation?”
Lafarge shook his head accepting that he could only play them off against each other for a limited spell of time.
“So now that that piece of theatrics is over Lafarge. Where are the jewels?” asked Lafont.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. I don’t have them, neither does Bousquet and obviously von Dirlinger hasn’t either so your guess is as good as mine, and it is not often that I have thought of us as equals,” said Lafarge.