'As you can appreciate, my client doesn't wish to make any comment at this stage. I can only say that I will seek to demonstrate my client's innocence in short order: that these charges against him are totally unfounded and without merit.'
A confused barrage of questions returned: Match… Le Monde… Provencal… when will… what do you propose… will Monsieur Duclos now… Thibault picked out one question: Why do you think these charges have arisen now, so many years later? Girl at the back: Le Figaro.
'Good question. Why now? Monsieur Duclos provided a full unflinching statement when this case was originally heard. He has nothing to hide. A suspect I might add was found, fully tried and convicted. A re-opening now is a complete legal sham, especially on the evidence presented. I think that given what Monsieur Duclos has been involved in lately politically might provide more of a clue to why it has arisen now. Thank you.' Thibault started moving down the steps towards the car.
The pack followed: more questions. They'd taken the bait. Again, Thibault picked out just one: 'Which particular political involvement?'
Thibault turned just as he opened the car door. Reluctant admission, as if the press were dragging it out of him. Thibault sighed. 'As you probably know, Monsieur Duclos has recently been rapporteur in a patents dispute which has gone the wrong way for the EU bio-tech industry. If he's discredited, the case could be re-opened. Also, I'd like to remind you that all of this comes rather soon after a scandal involving a certain Socialist politician from Marseille. Rather convenient, one might say.' Thibault smiled. 'If I were you, I would look no further than Monsieur Duclos' political enemies for those behind this ridiculous fiasco.'
Thibault held a hand up behind him as he stepped into the car, ignoring the continuing barrage of questions. It had ended on the note he wanted. Madeleine drove off.
He smiled across at Duclos. 'A good day's work, I think. Should be interesting press tomorrow.'
'Yes, I think so. Well done.' Though Duclos' smile in return was more hesitant. He had half an eye on the black police Citreon following. His shadow for the next few months.
Two days after the bail hearing came the first official RPR statement: from the party Secretary General and acting Prime Minister. 'We have spoken at some length with Minister Duclos, who completely repudiates these charges as false and unfounded. He will fight them vigorously, and the party will offer its moral support. However, it is Minister Duclos' personal opinion that it would be improper for him to continue his duties representing the party as a regional constituent or in Brussels, while this case remains unresolved. His resignation of today has been accepted with due regret by the party President.'
The statement was as expected. 'Moral' support meant that the party could offer no tangible support, but their thoughts were with him. Good luck and bon voyage.
Eight days. All that Duclos had spent behind bars before being bailed. Quite a contrast to Machanaud, Dominic thought sourly. The system at work. Egalite its middle name.
But it wasn't full bail, Corbeix was eager to point out. More house arrest, with a gendarme permanently in Duclos' shadow. Posted by his front door in Limoges or his hotel room in Aix when Duclos travelled down for instruction hearings. His passport surrendered, his bank accounts frozen, and practically all his assets tied up in bail funding. 'It was the best we could hope for in the circumstances.'
Two days since the bail hearing. A more sober meeting this time with Corbeix. No whisky. Not much to celebrate. Corbeix' desk was strewn with the main newspapers: most carried the story on the front page.
The bail decision hadn't been entirely a surprise. As soon as Corbeix heard about Duclos' appointed lawyer, Jean-Paul Thibault, Corbeix was at least forewarned what to expect: arrogance, brashness, cries of 'outrage' at every opportunity. Thibault's firm was a leading Paris cabinet, with associate offices in Brussels and Washington. Heavy on corporate law, their criminal law division was smaller, but nevertheless competent and aggressive. Thibault was one of their youngest partners and had risen to prominence in the eighties representing a leading Paris haute couture director's wife charged with murder. A number of similar high profile cases followed, making Thibault's mark as a good 'celebrity lawyer’,
Thibault's steel-rimmed glasses, gelled back hair and double breasted suits had cut a good clean, up-and-coming yuppie lawyer image a decade ago. But his image hadn't changed with the years, and now, in his late forties, it made him look shady and sharp.
Dominic was thoughtful as Corbeix covered Thibault's background. 'Doesn't sound too far removed from a younger Duclos.'
'Perhaps that's what endeared Duclos to Thibault. Sees a bit of himself in him.'
Predictably, Thibault had come in all guns blazing for his client at the bail hearing: Duclos' status, his long years as a publicly elected official, his strong commitment to France. Corbeix had answered with the seriousness of the charges and the fact that Duclos had money; he had the means to escape.
They argued the toss for almost an hour before the examining magistrate, Claude Barielle, ruled: bank accounts and assets frozen. Passport held. House arrest. Counsels to be advised of the order of play for instruction hearings within ten days.
Corbeix had initially been enthused with Claude Barielle's appointment. Only thirty-two and with a sharply inquisitive mind, Corbeix felt that Barielle would be more open-minded to the background of PLR than some of the older examining magistrates. But during the bail hearing, he began to worry that Barielle might turn out too much of a lightweight faced with someone like Thibault. A master manipulator, Thibault was used to ruling the roost in the main courtrooms of Paris. In a provincial Aix courtroom with a young examining magistrate, Thibault could have Barielle carrying his luggage in no time.
In most instruction hearings, defence lawyers were mainly passengers aboard an examining magistrate's inquisitorial flagship. Present only when his client was called, defence could only demand presence when witnesses were called by posting a 'request to confront' notice. Prosecutors too could, if they wish, coast along during instruction, merely make notes and suggestions, appear at only half the hearings, generally let the examining magistrate do the running.
Corbeix grimaced. Given his current condition, such a stance would have probably suited him. But he could see by the spread of newspapers on his desk that it wasn't going to be that type of instruction. Thibault was going to be posting a lot of 'request to confront' notices, calling foul at every turn.
'I think we're in for a rough ride. And possibly earlier than I thought.'
Dominic too glanced at the newspapers. One had already nicknamed Duclos the bio-tech MEP. The rest made strong reference to it somewhere in the article. The murder case and the bio-tech dispute had already been successfully fused in the public's mind. 'What do you think Thibault's tactic is?'
'On the surface, just a convenient smoke-screen. A distraction. But beneath, it's a very clever manipulation. The bio-tech ruling is pro-life, pro rights of man. At the same time we are expected to believe that the man responsible is also a murderer. Thibault is trying to paint Duclos as a saint before it has even started. He's going all out for an early kill.'
'Any particular reason? He has his client bailed, so why the time pressure?'
'Think about it. Thibault has made the bold claim that this whole case is unfounded. But as the instruction drags on, not only will people begin to doubt such a claim but, win or lose, Duclos' political career will be over. Only if Thibault can get the case thrown out quickly does Duclos have any chance of bouncing back.'