La Rochelle Airport
La Rochelle, France
R
eading played diplomat and lead investigator as pleasantries and updates were exchanged with the French National Police representative in charge on the ground. Sanchez was taking the position of second fiddle well, and he made certain not to trivialize her role now that they were on good terms, the ice completely broken on the helicopter ride here.
“Do you mind if we conduct the interrogations?”
Chief Inspector Jacques Bisset shook his head. “Not at all, so long as I sit in on them.”
“Absolutely, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I used to be Scotland Yard and know how I felt when Interpol would show up as if they owned the place.”
Hearty laughter was exchanged. “Then you were once a real cop?”
Reading smiled broadly as they were led inside the private terminal. “For over twenty years.”
“I think I would miss it too much to leave.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision.” He gestured toward a row of seats occupied by unhappy employees. “Is everybody here that was working this morning?”
“Yes, they had just begun their shifts, so they were all still here.”
Reading’s expert eye surveyed the suspects. Some were defiant, some were nervous, and some were scared. He pointed at a young woman who appeared petrified, and was purposefully leaning away from the man she was sitting beside, as if she didn’t want to be associated with him. “You first.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why me?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
A police officer led her into a room commandeered for the interrogations. She was placed on one side of the lone table. Reading sat across from her, then Sanchez, Michelle, and Bisset occupied three of the corners, the woman sufficiently intimidated.
“Let me start by saying we already know the truth. We just want to confirm it. If you tell us the truth and don’t lie to us, then you won’t be charged with giving a false statement or, worse, interference in a police investigation. We just need you to tell us what happened in your own words.”
She glanced at him for a moment of defiance, her eyes immediately returning to her clenched hands lying in her lap. “If you already know, then why are you talking to me?”
“Standard procedure. We need to confirm what our source already told us, so we know what he told us really did happen.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“Well, that’s not matching up with what I was told.”
She stared at him, mouth agape. “But I thought you said you knew!”
Reading continued his bluff, the young woman having fallen for it. “Well, if you’re saying that you weren’t involved, and my source is saying you were, then one of you is lying, so why don’t you tell me how it went down as far as you’re concerned.”
She sighed. “Fine. It’s simple. They get a text message with what flight is coming in and what the cargo is, then a thousand euros is deposited into each of their accounts that have been set up for this. They’re untraceable. They access them through debit cards. When the package arrives, it’s just put through onto the plane. If it’s a person, they’re just pushed through customs and nothing is checked or recorded.”
“What about the cameras?”
“They malfunction for the five minutes it takes to get things done.”
Reading hid his shock. “How often does this happen?”
She shrugged. “Usually once or twice a month.”
“And is everybody in on it?”
She vehemently shook her head. “No, not everybody. Only the people who need to be. They’re usually told ahead of time so the right people can be put on the shift. This one came in at the very last minute. Like I said, I know about it, but I’m not part of it.”
“Then why haven’t you reported it?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Because I’m afraid to lose my job, and I’m also afraid they might kill me. These can’t be good people, right? But today, because it was last-minute and I was on shift, I was told that I would be cut in on the deal and to keep my mouth shut or else. I told them I’d keep my mouth shut, but I wouldn’t take any money.”
“Who’s the ringleader here?”
She was about to answer when she caught herself. “Don’t you know?”
“Like I said, I want to confirm what I was told. I was told you were involved, and you’re telling me you’re not.”
“Nicolas Griveaux.”
“He’s outside?”
“Yes.”
“What flight number was it?”
“I don’t remember the number. I can find out for you.”
“What was the destination?”
“Marrakesh.”
Reading’s eyes widened. “Marrakesh?”
“I thought you knew?”
He smiled slightly. “Well, we police say a lot of things that aren’t necessarily always true.”
Her jaw dropped. “Hey, you lied to me! That’s not fair!”
Reading rose. “Young lady, nobody said life was fair, but the law says I can lie.”
