‘I’m with you, and I’m listening.’
‘It’s not a very big case. Or to be precise, it’s a secondary aspect of a very big case. Around two to four weeks’ work, less action than in Tangier, no shooting. But I need you because you have experience and a reputation for working fast. A hundred to two hundred thousand francs, depending on results. Well?’
‘The trouble with men like you, Valentin, is that when you decide you want someone, you don’t really give them any choice, do you?’
‘No, I don’t. Reputations are precarious in the insurance world.’
‘Supposing I were interested?’
‘A Daewoo factory burned down a few days ago in Lorraine, at Pondange. I want you to find me a coherent explanation, backed up by evidence, fabricated or not …’ A pause, a half-smile. ‘I don’t mind either way. I want you to explain to me how the bosses set the factory on fire and their reasons for doing so. My sources tell me that you work as a private investigator for insurance companies on a lot of claims of this kind.’ Montoya nods. ‘So you have the expertise and the contacts.’
‘Go on, say it, a reputation for frame-ups and dirty tricks from my days in the drug squad. Is that it?’
‘Exactly.’
‘It will be a pleasure to work with you. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot. So, I’m in.’ Pause. ‘I can’t drag an insurance company into this. I’ll need a cover, of course.’
‘Of course. I’ll arrange one.’ 18 October
Karim walks cautiously along the path through the woods from Pondange up to the entrance to the disused iron mine. He listens out for the slightest sound, not wanting anyone to see him or follow him. Up there, under the scree blocking the entrance, he’s dug out a well-camouflaged tunnel and uses the entrance to the galleries as a storeroom for his various little businesses. It’s an isolated spot, as the local people keep well away from the former mines. He only comes here very early in the morning and has never bumped into anyone. Twenty metres from the scree, he stops. A dark mass in a green bramble bush, a few metres from the foot of the scree. Out of the ordinary spells danger. Standing stock still, barely breathing, he listens. Scraping, sliding, faint crackling, birds taking flight, birdsong, nothing unusual. He approaches slowly, moving as little as possible. From ten metres away, there’s no mistaking it, it’s a human body, wearing black jeans and a brown parka. Caught head first in the bramble bush, his neck probably broken. Glance up to the top of the slope. Thrown from up there, probably. If he’d fallen, he’d be closer to the rocks. Karim removes his shoes and takes a few steps forward in his socks. He crouches down and can clearly make out the profile. Étienne Neveu. Rooted to the spot, his heart thumping, adrenaline rush. Étienne, so close, his arm around his shoulders, the shared spliff, the porn images, the little business deals, a friend you could say. Weep my heart, in your despair, your solitude. And a new image: the night of the fire, Étienne wandering from group to group between the cars, as if oscillating between the darkness and the flames, distraught: ‘I saw the guys who started the fire.’ Nobody was listening to him, but you heard him and you thought, ‘Good, that’ll keep the cops off my back.’ Now, Étienne’s been killed. A fire, a murder, big names. And you, the Arab, the kid, the small-time wheeler-dealer, you risk ten years’ inside, minimum, or your hide. Gotta play this carefully. He straightens up, pins and needles in his legs. Go back down to Pondange leaving as little trace as possible. Think fast. Suddenly: an image. Quignard in an anorak and woolly hat, sitting on the bonnet of his car, brightly lit up by showers of sparks, and Étienne in front of him, probably — no, certainly — saying, ‘I saw the guys who started the fire.’ Perhaps signing his death warrant. Tell the cops about the body, see how they react, I’ll soon find out.
At the police station, Lieutenant Émile Lambert bustles about, conscious of his responsibilities. He interviews the first witness.
Robert Duffaut, born 10 August 1963 in Nantes.
Residing at 29 rue d’Auxonne, Nancy. Profession:
Security guard employed by 3G, based in Nancy since 3 March 1996.
The witness states he was sent to the Daewoo factory by his security company, 3G in Nancy, to provide backup for the company’s permanent team of two security guards, who are employed by the same company, 3G, and who were confronted with disturbances among the personnel which they believed could turn dangerous if security were not maintained.
He states he arrived on the premises at 15.00 hours, accompanied by his colleague. They immediately started patrolling the premises, and continued to do so until 21.30 hours, when they returned to the porter’s lodge to make their report. They were both still there when the fire alarm went off at 21.43 hours.
Q. Who raised the alarm?
A. A man came running in. He was shouting: ‘The place is on fire,’ and pointing towards the warehouses. I don’t know this man’s name.
Q. When you were doing your rounds, did you notice any particular incidents or suspicious behaviour?
A. I would like to mention that around 15.15 hours, my colleague and I walked past the waste ground behind the factory, and there, a young North African-looking individual had set up a barbecue and was selling kebabs. This barbecue was about ten metres from the place where the fire started a little later. We made a few inquiries. This individual is called Karim Bouziane.
Q. In your opinion, could this barbecue have had something to do with the outbreak of the fire?
A. I think so. Furthermore, around 19.00 hours, a minor dustbin fire was reported in the main corridor between the factory and the warehouse. It was quickly extinguished by members of the Health and Safety committee before we arrived on the scene. When we arrived a few minutes later, we noted that embers had been thrown into the dustbin, intentionally or otherwise, and were certainly the cause of the dustbin fire. As far as we could ascertain, those embers came from the barbecue.
I must also inform you that around 17.00 hours, we patrolled the stockrooms and we noted that a group of several individuals were smoking marijuana in the vicinity of highly flammable packaging materials.
Q. Do you know who their dealer is?
A. We have no proof, but the name bandied around by those smoking is once again that of Karim Bouziane. Apparently he sold the dope along with his sausages.
Q. In your view, could Karim Bouziane have set fire to the factory?
A. There’s no concrete proof. I don’t know if he did, or why he would want to. But in any case, he had the wherewithal.
Q. Among your colleagues, or the individuals present during the day in question, did you hear any names being mentioned as possible instigators of the fire?
A. I did not talk to any Daewoo personnel after the fire. But the name being whispered among the workers is that of Karim Bouziane.
Q. Is there anything else you would like to mention?
A. No. Nothing else comes to mind.
‘Nice work, Lieutenant Lambert‚’ comments the superintendent. ‘You see the effectiveness of this method. Karim Bouziane may be a serious lead. But let’s not rush, let’s be methodical. You carry on listening to what people have to tell you, but if they don’t spontaneously mention Karim Bouziane, you ask them discreetly about him, his barbecue and his dope dealing.’