Chapter 10

I’m back at the Narcotics office.

This Spanish story is so exciting. Everyone is on it. Think, if finally, we could catch one of these bastards!

Unfortunately, the truck driver seems really honest and it really looks like it was the first and only time he was involved in this kind of traffic. And of course, he messed up. The guy had no routine. I’m still astonished how this could happen: to pay a guy who did such a stupid mistake and for such a large shipment.

Let’s continue the search. Looking for the little detail that doesn’t make sense…

One more coffee first. Ezio is there too, looking exhausted.

‘Ah. I start to get an idea about what happened… The regular customs guy, André, didn’t show up that day.’ I explain. This comment seems to wake Ezio up a bit.

I carry on:

‘Hmm… So it was another colleague of him who took his turn with his dog. The dog really deserves a medal anyway. With this seizure I’m sure we can lock up a few bastards. We should use dogs more often or develop our own sense of smell better. Maybe, with some training. Aha.’ I add laughing.

I really feel inspired by what’s going on. Things are going in the right direction for once.

'Well, does that mean this André guy is a rotten one? Looks so to me then.’ Ezio replies frowning.

‘I totally agree. He hasn’t shown up since…’ I nod and continue.

‘Could you investigate on him? His account and all the rest? I’m going to gather more information about this young guy who paid the driver. He looks green to me in this business and I don’t get how he could be entrusted such a big shipment… even with a corrupted customs officer. Something doesn’t make sense’.

‘What about the girl Emma?’ Ezio wonders.

‘Drop it for now. I found some new stuff on her. Somebody else is taking care of her. I’ll explain later.’ I answer in a mysterious tone. ‘Let’s meet again in an hour’.

Time goes by and I finally get a whole picture of this story and call Ezio to brief him too.

‘It really looks too good to be true.’ I start all thrilled and have a hard time containing myself.

‘The guy who paid the driver is the son of a Spanish drug dealer we’ve never managed to catch. He’s bloody clever, the father I mean. Has done lots of trafficking obviously but his cover is just perfectly legal. We watched his accounts, nothing weird. He runs a regular business, so he can afford his villa, his luxurious cars etc. We’ve never managed so far to prove anything against him even if we now through our informers that he‘s the number one when it comes to cannabis trafficking with Morocco. He’s probably used a false identity to open an account in Switzerland and other countries in other tax havens.’

I shrug and sigh heavily, feeling hopeless when it comes to that kind of matters.

‘What about his son then?’ Ezio asks interested.

‘His name is Rafael Sanchez. Young, twenty something, well educated in Switzerland but obviously lacking common sense or very naïve or very witless. I’m more inclined for the last one. You know.’ I add with a large smile.

I feel so inspired. Somewhere this seizure is going to make a difference. I sense it.

‘By the way, where is the driver right now? Still in police custody I hope? Because as soon as he comes out, he’s dead. In this mafia world he is despised, burned, dead. And we might need him to testify.

‘Mathieu. I got a call from the Spanish boarder. One Go Fast delivery is on his way through France. They saw One dark blue Ferrari crossing last night. They lost him of course but gave the alarm.’

‘Yes but they always manage through. It could be linked to the last seizure. The question is where are they going to unload? Paris area? But if it’s linked to this Sanchez it’s definitively going to the Netherlands; so call all the units on the way to get ready.’

One hour later we finally got a call from a squad at the Belgium border.

‘The Ferrari was caught while filling up. So unlucky for them.

Normally they have enough onboard, so they don’t stop in a service station. Things seem to be a bit unprepared, done in a hurry. Could be explained by our last seizure that created emergency.

They ran out of their shit in Netherlands.’ Ezio reports.

‘What about the driver?’ I ask.

‘The guy ran away but we got the load. Six hundred kilos. Not bad.’ Ezio answers with a large smile.

‘I wish I was there to see the face of this Sanchez when he hears the news. Because I’m pretty sure this has to do with the other story. He must be furious.’

The phone rings again. This time it’s a phone call from Spain.

‘A villa exploded last night in the South of Spain.’ The officer explains.

‘The guy was a Moroccan trafficking between Morocco and Northern Spain. There’s nothing left of his house. Luckily, he was living out in the countryside, no neighbors around. But the fire was hard to extinguish in this area. Everybody is shocked. We haven’t identified the bodies, except one young one, probably his daughter, 16 years old. What a pity! And so far, four more skeletons. We don’t know if the guy is on the run or what.’

‘Thanks. Keep us informed as soon as you know their identities.’ I answer and hang up.

I then turn to Ezio who can’t believe it either. I feel both thrilled and somehow sense something is going out of control.

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‘Let’s take a break outside for a change’ I said to Ezio. ‘And the coffee is on me.’ I smile.

Ezio is also smiling broadly.

‘They seem to go crazy over there. That’s really good for us. They’re doing the job themselves. Killing each other. Shame for the girl though’. He sighs a bit sad.

Being himself a father, he feels some empathy for those family members who just happen to be at the wrong place from the very beginning.

‘I know how you feel. Still we might have a chance to do something to this trafficking and some have to be sacrificed obviously.’ I add, because I really mean it.

In this job you have to think that way, think of how many are going to be saved, not how many have to die.

‘I know, still’ Ezio sighs heavily and I change subject before we both feel so sad we won’t be able to continue our duty.

‘Let’s go back and find a plan for these bastards. I’m sure there is a connection between the Sanchez’s story and the villa. Let’s dig into it and find out, ’ I encourage Ezio while going back to our office.

During this time Emma in Paris.

I wake up tired as usual. What shall I do today? No real plan. I dreamt of Mark, that we were younger and full of hope and laughing together by a swing, him pushing me higher and higher happily.

Then suddenly I got afraid of falling and asked him to stop pushing but he turned away and I didn’t recognize his face. I woke up scared, uncomfortable not knowing what to think.

I make a strong cup of coffee, feeling a slight headache is coming up.

I have to go out and get some dope. My all body is aching, I have difficulties breathing, thinking. All the pictures from last night are going round and round in my head.

A wave of sadness is crawling over me. What am I doing with my life? I’m so lonely, unable to be close to anyone. Where are my friends, my family? I have none in the end when I look at it.

I try to eat a piece of bread but even eating gives me nausea. Same with my whole life. I’m sick of myself, my loneliness.

Seeing Mark was not a good idea. He’s so far from my life style and we’ve gone so different ways. I can feel he probably had a crush on me when we were younger but how to tell him I’m not worth it? He definitely deserves a better girlfriend.

And how to explain to him I’m unable to fall in love? I have a distance from people and everything around. Nothing really matters. I like him a lot but I don’t know what love means really. Isn’t it weird? I eventually hate all the touching between man and woman. So degrading for me. All these attitudes, this sex everyone is obsessed with. How can people accept to pay for it, I don’t get it.

I need to go out and get some dope to calm down my body which is having a hard time right now. My hands start shaking. I’m looking at them: strange! They feel like another part of myself but not belonging to me really and I can’t control them. I hate that feeling.

I’m near the door when my mobile rings so I pick it up.

‘Hello Emma, hope I’m not waking you up, it’s Fabrice here’.

I recognize his gentle, mature voice.

‘No. I was on my way actually’, I answer calmly.

‘I have some good news for you so can we meet today? Now maybe? Or in an hour?’ he continues cheerful.

‘Let me guess. I’m in. You want to make some more photos is that it?’ I ask and regret already my wording. I should probably use another expression than ‘I’m in‘. A bit too childish maybe.

He laughs instead, repeating: ’Yes you’re in! So, let’s meet in an hour? Is that Ok with you?’

‘Sure. Same place?’ I reply shortly. I want to stop the conversation. I really feel I need some coke especially if I want to survive another day of photo shooting.

So I add rapidly.

‘In 2 hours if it’s fine with you? I was actually going out now and realize it will be a bit short otherwise.’

‘No problem. I understand. No need to hurry. We have plenty of time in fact since we’ll be working together now. I’ll explain when we meet.’ He said very diplomatically and hung up.

I stay there, staring at my mobile like it was a snake. Cold, wild and dangerous somehow. I don’t know why this device suddenly seems threatening. My imagination I suppose.

I start imagining what it felt like at the beginning of the last century when a person could, for the first time, speak to someone living far away and still getting the feeling the other person is close to you, able to see you.

And I’m just feeling ugly and tired and I don’t understand how on earth they can choose me to be in photographs. It’s a total mystery to me.

Actually, not. If I think of the pictures of models in magazines, they very often look tired and bored or both. I probably look the same nowadays.

Why did I accept to come back to France? It was a mistake somehow. I feel trapped by those Columbian guys. I’m tired of trafficking for them. It’s never going to end. This time in Paris it’s a bit more complicated. I can see the market here is more European.

It’s not the right time to reflect so much. My head is exploding. I need my dose and to get ready quickly now for the meeting with Fabrice.

But all this stress makes me feel even worse. I wish everything could stop. Or even better, I wish to start my life all over again, far away, with no ties anywhere.

I’m outside looking for some coke when my phone rings again.

‘So what are you doing? I haven’t heard from you since you’re in France. We were supposed to keep in touch’, an angry man says on the other side of the line with a strong accent.

My heart goes up to my throat, banging like hell. Despite the distance, even if I know very well he is on the other side of the globe, fear is crippling me. I start sweating.

Ronaldo always has this effect on me. I feel horrible, trapped, no possible escape. He’s never going to let me go. I still have to deal for him.

‘You don’t answer? Do you hear me? We had an agreement. Have you make some contacts?’

‘Not yet, not so easy here as I thought it would be.’

‘You have another week. That’s it.’ And he hangs up.

Gosh. I feel even sicker now. My body is badly in need, sweating, aching and shaking.

I run to the corner where I noticed some dealers yesterday.

I get some coke, then return home and snort some lines.

I finally get the relaxing effect and the kick I need to start my day.

I rapidly take another shower, put some make-up to hide the rings under my eyes.

I choose a simple pair of jeans, a white sweater and some sneakers. I don’t need anything else. They will surely provide all the clothes in case they want to shoot already today.

I rush into the nearest tube station. Well, I’ve managed to make it on time for my first day at work.

When I arrive Fabrice is welcoming me in the hall with a large smile. Nice guy though. A bit too old for me, but I can sense some kindness underneath his business manners.

‘Welcome to our team. Let’s take a coffee or a tea if you prefer, before you read your contract and sign it. So tea or coffee? he asks while he gently shows me to his office where a range of beverages are waiting to be taken.

‘A green jasmin tea please,’ I answer while I’m going to sit on a red velvet sofa standing in the corner by a large window overlooking a little garden.

‘What a surprising lovely garden’ I exclaim.

He laughs in return : ‘ I know so unusual in this area of Paris. Well hidden. I know I’m lucky. Let’s go and sit in the garden instead.’

So we take our cups and go outside where a little fountain is singing a nice relaxing melody. I like the place. Somehow I feel at home with Fabrice.

He’s watching me, waiting for me to say something but nothing comes to my mind. I smile stupidly.

‘So here is your contract. Could we start today if you’re available? Our final customer really liked you so he wants you for his next catalogue. So you’ll be a rich young lady,’ he says with a large charming smile and hands me a pen.

I’m reading rapidly through all the pages. Basically that’s right, I’m going to earn a lot in a short while if we start shooting already today.

I sign and give him back his pen.

I see my hands are beginning to shake again. He seems to notice it as well and gently asks, ‘Are you alright? If you need anything please tell me, even if it’s...hm… not usual if you see what I mean.’

I’m astonished. Does he mean what I’m thinking of? Really ? Can I trust him on that?

‘No, I don’t see what you mean’ I answer a bit harsh.

‘Come on, I saw you at the party. It’s fine here you know. Everybody uses it to be in a good mood’.

‘Well, I’ll let you know then’ I utter shyly.

Damned. My heart starts accelerating again and I’m sweating. I feel ashamed of myself and I hate that. My body is totally out of control and I hope I’m going to hold up standing and posing all afternoon in front of a camera.

‘Let’s go and meet the photographer then.’ He says while rising from his armchair.

She follows him, not aware that this will be a turning point in her life.