C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) (17 page)

The French had a right to be proud. Paris was a modern European city with more than its share of history and culture. Writers like Descartes, Voltaire and
Montesquieu
inspired many across the planet, and fueled a push for freedom unparalleled before their time.

What’s more, the Louvre controlled more original art than any other public museum in the world. Old King Louis the Fourteenth might have been a pompous ass, but his appreciation for culture knew no bounds. From his reign forward, France had been at the forefront of art and culture through the centuries.

However, the underside of France included a steady underground drug trade that at times fed a large portion of the Western world’s illicit market. Made famous as the French Connection in the 1970’s, the drug trade waxed and waned in size and visibility, but never disappeared completely. The more recent government push to completely criminalize prostitution had also bred a growing underground for those illicit services that were provided primarily through clubs.

However, the club scene was a glossy layer of thin ice that covered a much deeper and more terrible river of human degradation and waste made up of the heroin and drug trade along with human trafficking and slavery. Most people who think of slavery as something from the distant past are shocked to find out that there are more slaves in the world today than there were at any prior point in history. And since the Taliban were knocked out of power in Afghanistan, the heroin trade has roared back with a vengeance.

Remy hung back until both the truck and the Peugeot had driven into the warehouse through a garage entrance and the door came down quietly behind them. From the outside, the place looked dark and unoccupied. Remy noticed the windows had all been blacked out.

Now what should he do. He had nothing he could report to the station that would get so much as a search warrant. Nothing but the conclusions of an American detective who was now being held under suspicion of terrorist activity. Remy had to get a look inside. He parked and looked for a way in. A survey of the exterior found one tilt window open. Remy found a small crate in the trash and set it down under the window. Pulling himself up he shined his penlight in. It was a bathroom. With his light in his teeth he managed to wriggle himself through the small window and onto the floor inside without making too much noise.

He listened at the door but heard nothing. Opening the door a crack, he could see he was on the far side of the warehouse away from most of the action. Despite the dark appearance from outside, the interior was well lit and buzzing with activity. The truck was sitting next to a conveyer track of rollers. Several crates were being rolled into a second small room. Remy could not yet see what was in the crates. He worked his way behind a row of stacked boxes and followed along until he was around the back side of the room. He leaned on the outer wall and felt heat coming from inside. Peeking through a rear window he saw that the source of the heat was a high-temperature tunnel oven that was baking ceramic Liberty statues as they moved through on a metal conveyer. At the entrance, a man was taking small packages from one of the crates and stuffing one into the open bottom of each statue. A second man was attaching a ceramic piece to the bottoms and placing the statues on the conveyer. Once baked in the oven the contents would be sealed inside and undetectable. The rolling tunnel oven allowed for precise temperature control so that whatever was inside would not be damaged. Remy had a good idea what that was, but he needed proof. Sneaking around the other side got him behind the truck. He waited until the men walked a crate along the conveyer toward the oven room and swung himself up and into the rear of the truck.

Most of the crates held green ceramic statues. He searched until he found a smaller crate toward the front of the truck. Prying up the lid revealed it was filled with brick shaped packages. There had to be fifty in the crate. He grabbed one and put it into his jacket pocket. As he worked his way toward the rear he felt the back of the truck flex downward. Someone was climbing up. Remy ducked behind the closest crate, pulling his legs in just as one of the men climbed aboard. Remy held his breath. If he was discovered, he was dead. He felt his heart pounding in his ears and hoped it wasn’t as loud as it seemed to him. The man in the truck slid one of the ceramic crates toward the rear edge of the truck.

“Do we need more dope?” the man asked his partner on the ground.

Remy prayed for the only answer that would guarantee he was not found.

“Not yet. We’re good. Let me give you a hand.” The man jumped down from the truck. The two moved the box onto the rollers.

Remy finally breathed. He stuck his head out and saw the two men walking back toward the oven room, pushing the box between them. He slid out of the truck and worked his way back to the far end of the warehouse, staying low behind a row of stacked boxes. Finding a door that worked, he was back outside with the evidence he needed.

Remy called the station. “This is Officer Remy Montagne. I need to speak to Inspector Gilliard urgently.”

The inspector is not here at this time of night. “This is Sergeant Garret. Where the hell have you been, Remy? I have a duty roster that says you have been missing since midday.”

“I can explain later. Right now I have an urgent matter. I found a warehouse full of heroin. We need to raid the place now.”

“Whoa, there. You’re going to have to talk to narcotics. Do they know about this?”

“Thanks, I’ll call them.” Remy was so excited he forgot that his division didn’t even handle drug trafficking cases. He dialed the narcotics division.

“This is Officer Remy Montagne from major crimes. I need to talk to whoever is in charge.”

After a long wait, a voice said, “This is Lieutenant Brevard. What’s this about?”

“I was on a stakeout with Raja Williams today. We were looking into a smuggling operation at the docks.”

“Wait a minute. Raja Williams? The American?”

“Yes.”

“This is his idea?”

“Yes. He’s the one who figured it out, but then when he got arrested by the gendarmes
—
”

“Hold on, Officer. You say he got arrested?”

“Yes, but that is not the point. I followed the lead we uncovered and it took me to a warehouse in Courbevoie. This is a major drug smuggling operation and I need backup.”

“Okay, slow down. This sounds all too familiar. We tried this once before based on the American detective’s information. That
turned out to be
a colossal waste of time.”

Remy had learned one thing from Raja. What’s true for you is what you see. “I am standing on the corner of Rue de Minimes and Avenue de l’Europe holding a kilo of heroin from inside the warehouse. Inside the building I saw a crate full of heroin. A lot. We have maybe a couple of hours before the smugglers finish packing up their shipment and are gone. Are you in or not?”

There was a long silence. “Give me the address again. I’ll need one hour. Do you know how many men are inside?”

“I counted six. But they are well armed.”

“Okay. Stay out of sight until we get there. Don’t do anything heroic.”

“Hurry.”

True to his word, Lieutenant Brevard showed up just under an hour later with two fully-armed assault teams. Remy met them around the corner.

“You stay outside,” said the assault team commander. “Let us handle it.” The teams made a coordinated and timed entry into the warehouse from three sides. Remy heard three bursts of shots fired, but that was over quickly. The assault team had more men and better weapons. After the first two smugglers went down, the rest dropped their guns and surrendered. The raid was a smashing success with no policemen injured. By the time they finished, the police had found over two hundred kilos of heroin with a probable street value between twenty and thirty million dollars. The statues being used to hide the drugs were destined for New York City and places beyond. From the records that were eventually found, it looked like the smuggling operation had been in business in Paris for over three years, having made nearly a dozen previous shipments. It was the biggest drug bust in France in ten years and Officer Remy Montagne was to be given special credit and commendation for its success.

Chapter Twenty-five: Free at Last

After his release from the Gendarmerie, Raja called Vinny to arrange a ride. He didn’t have a number for Remy Montagne, and knew nothing of what had taken place at the warehouse.

“Vinny.”

“Raja
.” Despite the early hour, Vinny was already up.
 

“Guess what.”

“You are at Corinne’s.” Vinny
was in no mood to hear about Raja and his new love.
 

“No.”

“You have a new girl friend.”

“Vinny.”

“Maybe you should just tell me.”

“I was arrested.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“I wish I
were.
”

“Now what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. It was some trumped up terrorist alert.”

“Terrorist?”

“The key phrase is trumped up. I’m out now, but I don’t have Napoleon. Any chance you have a way to pick me up?”

Vinny still had use of Yvette’s car. “Where are you?”

“Down the street two blocks from the Gendarmerie on Rue Saint-Didier.”

“I’ll be right there.” Vinny picked up Raja and they drove back to the flat. Raja explained the unexpected help he got from Captain Milan in securing his release. When they arrived, the flat was empty.

“Where is the girl?” asked Raja.

“She called her parents and they picked her up. I think she will be okay, eventually. But we must stop the slave traders. Did you make any progress on that, I mean, before you got arrested?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. That’s what we were doing when the gendarmes crashed the party.”

“We?”

“Remy and I. He’s the officer that Inspector Gilliard assigned to help me.”

“Inspector Gilliard? Are you sure it was meant to help?”

“Well, he was supposed to keep an eye on me, for sure, but Remy is a great guy. Very bright, too. You’d like him.”

“And where is this Officer Remy now?”

“It’s Officer Remy Montagne, actually. I don’t know. I left Napoleon with him down at the docks. And, I think we uncovered more than just the white slavery operation.”

“There has been police chatter this morning about a heroin drug bust at a warehouse in Courbevoie. No names yet.”

“Heroin
—
that makes sense. I bet that is Remy.”

Vinny typed something on her computer. She waved her hand and a map appeared on the screen. There was one flashing red dot. “Well, it looks like the Porsche is parked at the police station right now. I can track it with the GPS.”

Raja called the police station but Remy wasn’t in the major crimes division. Raja recognized the voice on the line was Claude, the inspector’s assistant. “Claude, this is Raja Williams. Any idea where Remy is now?”

“Monsieur Williams, I thought you were
—
”

“Arrested? Rotting in jail over at the Gendarmerie? Let’s just say it was a mistake.” Raja suspected that the inspector might have had a hand in getting him arrested, but now wasn’t the time to get into it.

“Well, Remy is over at
les stups
—
sorry
—
that’s what we call the narcotics division,” said Claude. “They just wrapped up a huge bust.”

“Thanks.”

Vinny drove Raja to the narcotics division building.

“Pull over here,” said Raja. “and let me out. You can’t come in, Vinny.”

“What, no girls allowed?”

“You are still undercover. Wait for me, and please stay out of sight. You have your iPad. Do some research. I’d really like to know who set me up to look like a terrorist. I will be back as quickly as I can.”

Inside
les stups
, as they called it, the atmosphere was one of giddy celebration. It isn’t every day that the police take down a major drug operation.

Raja stood at the front desk. “I’m looking for Officer Remy Montagne. My name is Raja Williams.”

The desk sergeant made a call, and Raja could see a group of policemen talking casually in the next room. One of them picked up the phone and then looked up at Raja. Several men waved for him to come in but Remy came out first.

“Raja, are you all right? Did you hear what happened?”

“Yes and yes. But I didn’t get the details.”

“Well, everything you said was spot on. I followed the contents of the fourth container to a warehouse in Courbevoie. After I found the heroin, I called it in. We raided the place and recovered two hundred kilos of uncut heroin. They were hiding the drugs in Liberty statues for export to the United States. The captain estimates it is worth over twenty million dollars on the street in the U.S.”

“That is quite a raid.”

“The Captain says it is the biggest in over a decade. We were just planning a celebration. You should come, too.”

“Have you mentioned the original reason we were at the docks—the white slave trade part of Assad’s operation?”

“You know, with all that has happened, I didn’t think of it. But after the drug bust, don’t you think he will be scared off?”

“Perhaps, but I hope not. If Assad does decide to cut his losses and go home, we are going to find bodies in the Seine. We must hope he’s greedier than he is cautious. After losing all that money on the drugs, Assad is not going to be inclined to take a double hit on the girls as well. Your bust was at the warehouse, far away from the docks. And if I’m right, the girls are already on board the
Alhambra
. We need to watch that ship. I’m hoping the ship won’t leave Paris until they collect the empty containers. When the ship docks for the containers, that will be the best chance to bust them and keep the girls alive.”

“We should tell Captain Rochefort to stay clear of the container at the stockyard.”

“Good thinking, Remy. You should be the one to tell him. After all, you are the hero of the day.”

“Well.” Remy was embarrassed.