Forty-one

‘It’s been a good outcome, Inspector,’ said Massin. ‘A little unfortunate that we weren’t able to hand over a live killer, but I attach no blame to you for that. You did what you had to and the final act was not yours to control. My report shall reflect that fact.’

‘Thank you.’

It was two days later, and Rocco had come into the office to see what was happening and make a statement about the events in the marais. After a night in hospital having his eyes cleansed and his hand bandaged, he’d been glad to get home again to his own space and the familiar sounds of the fruit rats playing overhead. True, he’d also had to weather being fussed over and fed omelettes and chicken by Mme Denis, secured in exchange for all the gory details, but it had been easily bearable. Now it was time to get back to work.

Massin picked up a message sheet from his desk. ‘I have a note here from Inspector Kopa in Neuilly. He wishes you to know that Seb Achay, described as Farek’s number two, has turned on his boss in exchange for a reduced sentence. Farek has been taken into custody and formal charges will follow in due course.’ He looked up. ‘Kopa says you helped with certain details which implicate Farek in the hiring of an international assassin. You must be relieved about that.’

Rocco wasn’t so sure. It was the end of a long road and time would tell if the charges stuck and Farek went down. He had no illusions about what a clever lawyer could do, although he doubted even Farek would walk away from this one. At the very least Farek would find himself displaced among the criminal community, water closing over his head. Until that happened, he’d have to continue to watch his back. ‘It’s a start.’

‘Indeed.’ Massin picked up a sealed envelope. ‘With that in mind I think you’ll want to read this.’ The outside of the envelope bore the rounded triangular seal of the Police Nationale. ‘Take a seat.’ Then he turned and walked over to the window and stared out at the street scene below.

Rocco opened the envelope and extracted a single sheet of paper. The contents were straightforward and without embellishment. He was being offered a new job in a division of the National Police called Brigade de Recherche et d’Intervention or BRI for short. Their sole task was to be focussed on the battle against criminal gangs, of which Paris had more than its fair share. If successful, the idea would be rolled out to other major cities across France in an attempt to interrupt and reverse the recent proliferation of gang activity, involving among other things, drugs, robberies and kidnappings.

Rocco looked up. ‘I take it you know what this is?’

‘I do.’

‘Why me?’

Massin turned, his expression blank. ‘Why not? Surely you must know your record speaks for itself. As I understand it, this new division is being set up as we speak. It’s a new line in tackling criminal gangs – not too different from what you were doing before you came here only on a more organised basis, with new budgets, new techniques and equipment.’ He sat down in his chair. ‘You don’t need to make a decision here and now, but it’s something you should think about carefully. It would represent an important step in your career. If you want it, that is.’

Rocco wasn’t sure what to say. It was an initiative that he knew had been talked about for some time, but it always seemed to be one of those proposals that never quite got off the ground. And Massin was right – it would undoubtedly be a great opportunity for him and a return to the kind of work he knew best.

‘That’s all, Inspector.’ Massin pulled his in-tray towards him, a clear sign that he wished to get on with other matters.

Rocco stood up. He wondered what was going on behind Massin’s reserved expression, whether this was something the senior officer might have been wishing for or had even engineered. To say they had never been close would be understating the situation. They were colleagues, yes, despite their different ranks, but on the most reserved of terms due to their shared history in Indochina. Massin’s attitude towards Rocco on finding they were to work together here in Amiens had been not far short of abrasive. But it had mellowed considerably since then, replaced by a strictly professional atmosphere between them and even a grudging respect.

As Rocco stepped towards the door, Massin said, ‘One thing, Rocco.’

‘Sir?’

‘I would value the courtesy of knowing your intentions, if that were possible? It’s not an order, of course. But it would help me prepare the way for your transfer and replacement… should that be your decision.’

‘Of course.’

‘That said, I hope you choose to stay.’

Rocco held back his surprise, and closed the door behind him. Then he folded the letter into his pocket and walked downstairs.

END