Rough Trade (23 page)

Daquin woke up with difficulty. Comatose.

‘Guv …’

‘It’s you, Lavorel … Where are you? Are you at home? Wait a minute then. I’m going to put my head under the cold tap.’

Daquin put the telephone down. Sol was there in the bed asleep. He hadn’t heard him come back last night. He lifted the duvet and looked at him for a moment. The black dick. The face with its sharp features, so different when the pale blue eyes were closed. A disconcerting mixture of submission and revolt.

His head under the tap. Towel. Back to the bed.

‘OK. Lavorel, I’m listening.’

Daquin was naked, his back against the wall, the telephone on his stomach, the receiver in his left hand, his right hand on the nape of Soleiman’s neck.

‘The box contains rolls of labels with the big names in the French ready-to-wear business, Ted Lapidus, Yves Saint-Laurent. The ones the workroom works for. That allows Berican to produce counterfeit garments on a big scale.’

‘Is it illegal?’

‘Totally.’

‘And does it earn money?’

‘Lots of it.’

‘If we carry out a search on Monday morning, can we find
evidence
against Paulette?’

‘If it’s done early enough, yes. The rolls of labels are too big to allow any possible explanation. They’re locked up in one of the desk drawers.’

‘You’re sure we can take her in when we leave?’

‘Yes, sure.’ He hesitated. ‘There’s something else that worries me.’

‘Tell me.’

‘We won’t be arresting just Paulette. We’ll have to take Berican too, and his workers will be out in the street. Without jobs. Just when they’re all hoping to get their papers.’

‘I warned you that you wouldn’t find many suit-and-tie people in the Sentier.’ Silence. ‘I’ll think about it. Tomorrow afternoon’ … a look at his watch: 1 o’clock in the morning ‘this afternoon rather, in my office, so that we can organize the search?’

‘I’ll be there.’

‘And did you enjoy yourself?’

‘Rather easy and rather quick.’

‘We’ll try to find you something better. Good-night.’

He hung up. Turned to Soleiman who had woken up.

‘You look all in, my boy.’

‘I am. On Monday it’s the general assembly. We’re going to propose that the new offers by the Ministry should be accepted. I don’t know what will happen. Turks don’t like compromise.’

Daquin moved Soleiman’s head onto his shoulder and licked the back of his neck gently, almost biting it.

‘You’ll win your vote, my boy. I hear what people are saying these days in the workrooms. They see you as a winner. I’ve got a gift for you. On Monday morning we’re going to arrest a workroom boss. Berican, 2 passage de l’Industrie. If the workers protest loudly enough we’ll blame the manageress for everything and let them have their boss back.’ He’d got down to the base of Soleiman’s spine.

‘Stop, Daquin. I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying.’

‘I’ll stop. For the time being. Go and make some coffee.’

Soleiman came back upstairs with the coffee-pot and two cups. He sat down at the end of the bed. Daquin told him about the Berican workroom.

‘The Fraud Squad will arrest the manageress and the workroom boss, they can’t do anything else. If the workers make enough fuss we’ll blame the manageress for everything and you can have the boss back. As for you, you’ll arrive at the general assembly, with him, the workroom will be reopened … Do you know Berican?’

‘Yes. He’s sent money to the Committee. You’re making me a real gift. What do you want in exchange?’

‘Nothing. You’ve given me all I want in any case. I want
everything
you can find out about Sener. I’m convinced he’s in the
network
, but I’ve no proof. And I want your ass. Now.’

Berican went up the staircase to his workroom, as he did every day it opened. On the landing, four sinister individuals, three raincoats, one jacket. Panic. Was it the Grey Wolves, as with Celik Osman? No. They were not Turks. Were they French police officers? They showed him their identity cards and a document he didn’t read. A search. He came out in a sweat. His vision was blurred. Paulette had sworn this would never happen …

Berican went in with the police officers. One of them stayed by the door. As the workers arrived they were sent into the kitchen. Morale was definitely low.

A rapid tour of the workrooms. The police officers seemed
almost
absent-minded. Tension increased when they reached the
finishing
machines. One officer carefully collected the checklists for the labels. But the place they really wanted to search was the
manageress
’s office. Account books, orders, invoices, they took out everything. One cop sat down and began to leaf through it all. In a locked drawer were designer labels from the couturiers and a
register
of their issue and return. A quick check showed that the totals were correct. Bottom drawer on the left, the boss opened it. Plastic bag from
FNAC
. Inside, a cardboard box. In the box, two rolls of labels, Saint-Laurent and Ted Lapidus. About five hundred of each.

‘And what’s this?’

Berican didn’t have to try very hard to look completely astonished.

‘I’ve no idea. This is the manageress’s office. I’m always in the workroom.’

‘And when does the manageress arrive?’

‘At 8.30, every day.’

‘We’ll wait for her. Sit down.’

One of the officers took statements from the workers. Hardly any of them had identity papers, the addresses were imaginary and
nobody
had ever seen that plastic bag.

Shortly after 8.30 Paulette Dupin arrived. When she saw the workroom empty and two unknown men coming out of her office she went pale. Flanked by the two men she was pushed into the office. She looked at Berican who was sitting on a chair. Salvation would not come from that quarter but he didn’t seem to be in a state of collapse.

Account books, first irregularities identified.

Paulette shrugged her shoulders, suspecting that they hadn’t come to look at those.

‘And these labels? What are they used for?’

Paulette glanced sideways at Berican.

‘I’ve never seen that box. I didn’t bring it here.’

‘In the bottom drawer of your desk, which was locked, and you’ve never seen it?’

‘No.’

‘That’s a position you’ll find rather difficult to maintain.’

The officers took Paulette and Berican into custody, the workers were asked to leave and the workroom was closed.

Paulette Dupin and Berican were locked up in two separate offices on the first floor. While the Fraud Squad team was preparing the interrogation Attali went to make his report to Daquin.

‘She’s tough. She denies ever having seen the plastic bag. In my opinion it’s a ridiculous defence. We’ll find the retailers who’ve been selling the counterfeit stuff. And perhaps too the producer of the labels in Turkey …’

‘Perhaps, but that’s how Fraud sees it. I want her to break down and quickly. I don’t care a damn about the swindles, I want the truth about the information leaks. We must know before the end of the custody period. After that we’ll never be able to manage it. You’ll be taking part in the Berican interrogation. Only one thing interests us: he has to admit he saw the plastic bag in the hands of Paulette, but if I understand correctly, we’ve little chance of getting that. Nothing else matters to us. Charge Paulette, clear Berican, that way we can release him late in the morning. Got that?’

*

Paulette was interrogated in Daquin’s office. The Fraud Squad superintendent and the inspector directed operations, Daquin observed.

Paulette was brought in by a cop in uniform, sat down in the chair indicated to her and tried not to panic. True, she hadn’t expected this, not she, married to a cop, she wasn’t prepared for it. Only one thought in her head: resistance, persistence, denial.

‘You are the manageress of the Berican workroom?’

‘Yes.’

‘A quick look at your accounts has shown up several
irregularities
. The workroom declares five workers and employs more than twenty on a permanent basis.’

‘That’s true, but the entire Sentier works like that. Haven’t you heard about the legalization of workers being negotiated with the government at the moment? We aren’t the only people involved.’

‘Let’s move on to the search this morning. That bundle of labels …’

‘I’ve never seen it.’

‘So I understand. Then these are not the labels supplied to you by the manufacturers?’

‘No.’

‘What could such a bundle of labels be used for?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘You’re not credible on that point, madame. After years of managing a workroom of this kind …’

‘I’ve nothing to say about that.’

‘Very well. Do you know a certain Turgut Sener?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you come to meet him?’

‘The embassy gave us an order for some furnishing work in leather. He was in charge of the arrangements. I met him on that occasion.’

‘When?’

‘Three years ago.’

‘And do you continue to see him regularly?’

‘Yes, he’s a friend.’

‘Did you have lunch with him at Chez Flo, last Friday?’

‘Yes.’ Surprise.

‘And he gave you a plastic bag from
FNAC
?’

‘No.’

‘We have witnesses, madame.’

‘They made a mistake.’

‘We’ll continue this interrogation tomorrow, madame. One last question: is your husband involved in your professional activities?’

Paulette Dupin sat up, as though electrified.

‘Superintendent, when we married we both retained control over our personal property, and I am an adult. Leave my husband out of this.’

Paulette Dupin was led away for her first day in custody.

Daquin began to hope. She was acting the tough lady, perhaps that’s what she was. But her defence was desperate and totally
lacking
in flexibility. We can make her crack up. We must concentrate on Sener. According to Romero there’s a good chance they may be lovers. She’s in her fifties, he’s twenty years younger, she surely clings to him.

Berican’s workers were huddled together at the foot of the staircase. Smoking and arguing with Soleiman, who was passing through. At first, despair: no work, no papers. It was more difficult to find work in leather than in fabrics. Someone suggested going up to the second floor, breaking open the door, taking away the machines, selling them and sharing the money in order to keep going until they found new jobs.

‘Gangster behaviour,’ said Soleiman.

‘In any case you know that if we don’t take over the machines the cops will seize them.’

‘No, there’s no reason to let them do that. Those days are over. We’ll fight, all of us together, we’ll go to the police station to
demand
Berican’s release and the reopening of the workroom.’

‘It’s impossible. They’re going to bang up the lot of us and send us back to Turkey.’

‘No, you’ll see. The Committee will be there and they’ll
telephone
the ministry. Other Turks will come and support us.’

Soleiman spoke with real conviction. In the end it was
unanimously
agreed to go in a group and demand Berican’s release. A stop at the usual café, raki to give themselves courage. On Berican’s account, naturally. In the mean time Soleiman
telephoned
the Committee. Round up all the French militants you can find, meet in half an hour’s time or sooner at passage du Désir, yes, that’s it, outside the police station. Bring stuff to make a
banner
. Is Omar there? Yes? Put him on. Omar, run over to the Gymnase and send to passage du Désir all the Turks who want to go. It’s important.

When the Berican workers reached the local police station they weren’t reassured. A moment’s hesitation. Ten or so French
militants
arrived at the other end of the passage. Three of them
unrolled
a broad strip of fabric and painted on it in white:
Berican
’
s
workers
want
to
work
, Soleiman and a Frenchman undertook to negotiate with the cop on the door. They wanted to see the Superintendent.

‘Which Superintendent?’

‘The one who ordered the search at the Berican workroom this morning.’

‘No idea who.’

‘A woman lawyer, well known for her aggressive behaviour,
bombarded
the station with phone calls. She insisted on speaking to Monsieur Berican, who was her client. Why impossible? I’ll call the minister’s office.’

The banner was fixed to the wall opposite the station.

By 10.45 Turks began arriving in small groups. Soon a small crowd of two hundred and fifty or three hundred people were shouting slogans in Turkish and French. Lavorel watched from a third-floor window.

At 11.30 the minister’s first secretary telephoned the station. Everyone should avoid making waves, just when the negotiations were about to be successful. Had Monsieur Berican been charged with particularly serious offences? No? Well then …

At noon Berican was freed and emerged to applause, whistles of approval and cheering, like a member of the Galatasaray football team after a win over a Greek club. Within five minutes the crowd had dispersed and calm returned to passage du Désir. Lavorel was still at the window, admiring and bewildered.

*

The news that Thomas’s wife was in police custody spread like wildfire through the local squad. Thomas, taken completely by
surprise
, felt unwell and told the Fraud Squad superintendent he was going home. He would be interviewed as a witness the next day, Tuesday, at 10 a.m. Santoni stopped work abruptly and rushed over to the 10th arrondissement commissariat to see Meillant, who
telephoned
at once: ‘Daquin, I want to see you, this morning.’

‘Come to my office about noon.’

Meillant arrived at the height of the demonstration. He had to push his way through the crowd, nobody seemed to recognize him or take any notice of him. To his fury and astonishment he saw Berican coming out. He went up to Daquin’s office in total exasperation.

‘What’s all this carry-on? Have you decided to play Mister Clean in the Sentier all on your own?’ He pointed to the window. ‘Or are you trying to buy yourself a clientele on the cheap? And what for? On the way you’re destroying one of the best inspectors I’ve ever known, with thirty years’ service behind him. And with me. Is it me you’re getting at?’

Daquin had decided to act friendly. For Meillant the worst was yet to come. Daquin described in great detail how his team had come across Paulette because of Sener (omitting everything about the tapping of Moreira’s telephone) and without knowing she was Madame Thomas.

‘Very well, I accept that. But why act so quickly? You surely can’t believe this is the only case of label trafficking in the Sentier? You should have talked to me before getting Fraud involved.’

‘The decision to intervene was taken for reasons that have
nothing
to do with Fraud, but I won’t explain them to you today. Not for one or two days, the length of Paulette Thomas’ custody, which will be extended.’

Meillant had completely failed to understand the situation, and he knew it.