Pierre Lambert and The Cold Case Center

Chapter 2

Marseille nodded to the café owner, stepped behind the bar, and ran lightly up the staircase. There, he took a fresh burner from the stack in the fruit bowl. He rang the memorised number; kids could not do that anymore, but he had over 150 in his head. And only in his head.

‘Yeah. Confirming the meeting?’ He listened. The voice was whiny. ‘Why? I am a professional. I triple-check things. No, this call cannot be traced.’ The voice became less defensive. Marseille continued. ‘Okay, that’s all I need to know.’ Marseille closed the call and said quietly, ‘total idiot.’

He placed the burner on the floor, stepped on it with his full 1.9m and 92kg, and put the crushed result in a SuperU carrier bag which he took with him out onto the rooftop via the window. From there, he took the fire exit into a rear alley. These were the routes he had known since his childhood; little had changed in this part of the city. He knew the city well, better-in fact-than the back of his hand; he whistled ‘there are places I remember’ by The Beatles.

He dropped the bag into a bin.

Paranoid? Not at all. In a world of AI that could find connections hitherto thought impossible, and forensic testing now able to pull conclusions from a couple of stale atoms, he was cautious. The police, thankfully, continued to be stupid, lazy, and negligent. And of course, often corrupt. AI robots were not, never stopped working and were getting more effective all the time. He was back with Jacques and Philipe in twenty-two minutes, just as the café’s runner delivered trois cafés normals et trois croissants perched in a cardboard tray.

Marseille gave the adolescent-Rapha-a twenty euro note. ‘Perfect timing. Keep the change.’ He paused. ‘And most importantly, keep that attitude. Here is my card if you are looking for work.’ Rapha took the card.

Neither smiled, but they did bump fists. Rapha placed the card in the internal pocket in his Che Givara beret. French but not establishment was his statement Marseille guessed. He smiled: oh the joy of youth.