Rocco saw instantly where she was going: her way out was via an operation over which Farek had no interest or influence. ‘People-smuggling.’
‘Yes. I went to a man who did not care for Samir, and asked him. He told me all about it… how those who want a better life but who have no papers — some of them criminals — can use a pipeline to go to France and other places. It costs money, but I had been putting some away. I also had jewellery from my mother and grandmother, which I could sell.’
‘You were taking a hell of a risk. What if your contact had talked?’
‘He wouldn’t. He told me that a cousin of his was once a street trader in Oran. Every pitch is for sale, and only with the agreement of Samir. He was accused of using a pitch without permission, and punished.’
‘What happened?’
‘There is a man named Bouhassa. He is fat and ugly and repulsive. He beat the cousin so badly he could not walk again. Without the ability to move and carry his goods, he could not work and support his family. He felt so humiliated he killed himself. That is what Samir does to people who cross him.’
‘Still risky — especially with a child in tow.’
‘Yes. But staying was worse, and in the end, unthinkable. So I arranged our place in the pipeline. It was very simple.’ She almost smiled, and Rocco felt the atmosphere lighten, as if she had seen some promise ahead of her now that she had unburdened herself.
‘How many were with you?’
A momentary hesitation, then, ‘Seven. They were mostly kind, especially to Massi. All they wanted was to find a better life. We were in the same boat, literally.’
‘You came here?’
‘Yes. By truck from Marseilles to a place with lots of vineyards. One of the men managed to make a small hole in the truck panel, but I don’t know this country, so I couldn’t tell where we were. Then another truck brought us to this canal.’ Her face seemed to shut down suddenly, as if the most recent memories were too close, too vivid.
Rocco was about to ask her if anything had happened on the truck — an argument between the men, a fight of some kind resulting in a man’s death — but he realised that too many people had passed this way. Hers would not have been the only group coming through here recently. He decided to leave that question for another time and asked, ‘Did everyone get off the truck here?’
She looked puzzled. ‘As far as I know, yes. It was dark and confusing. The driver was very impatient. Why?’
‘No reason. Go on.’
Nicole rubbed her hands together fiercely as if the narrative had drained her of warmth. ‘It was very long, very tiring. Always dark. We left the truck and crossed the canal, and were met by a man who showed us this boat. He told us to stay here until someone came to collect us.’
‘He didn’t say anything about you and Massi?’
‘He didn’t notice. We stayed behind the others in the dark. In any case, I don’t think he was too interested. He told us to get on the boat and wait to be picked up, then left.’
‘Did he say where you would be going next?’
‘No. But the men knew they’d be sent to a factory to work.’ She took another deep breath. ‘Up to that point, I knew Massi and I would be safe as long as we weren’t seen. But once the men who had organised this journey found out, they would have split us up.’ She pointed at a hatchway set in the front wall of the cabin. ‘Through there is a bed. The men let me sleep there with Massi. I waited until they were asleep, then left. It seemed safer for them if I did, anyway.’
‘And you bought a car.’
She looked surprised. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I’m a cop.’ He told her about checking the registration and his chat with the dealer, Gondrand.
‘I see.’ She frowned with the memory. ‘The man was a pig. He wanted too much money. When I said I didn’t have enough, he made vile suggestions as if I were a common whore. In the end, I paid with francs and some jewellery… two of my grandmother’s rings. I had to have transport, you see.’
Rocco understood. He didn’t ask about a licence. He recalled instead the day at the grotto, when she had reacted to seeing the Mercedes.
She nodded. ‘Samir has one like it. When I saw it, I thought… but it was stupid, of course. He could not have followed me here so quickly, and not in his car.’
‘And will he?’
‘Yes. He will come. Soon. Samir Farek does not forgive betrayal by anyone, least of all a wife. I know the way his mind works. He will have lost face and his sole interest will be winning back respect among his associates and family.’
‘How will he get here?’
‘He will follow the trail along the pipeline, name by name. If that doesn’t work, he will go through the Algerian community here in France and use them to find me. And they will. It is his way.’ She sat up, startled, as water suddenly gurgled around the barge. ‘What is that?’
Rocco stood up and took his gun from his pocket. He checked both ways along the towpath. Nobody in sight. He couldn’t see Claude and guessed he was keeping his head down. He looked down at the surface of the canal to where some leaves were floating by on a surge of water, channelled along the hull by some unseen current. He told Nicole and she relaxed. But it was a reminder that even here, they were not completely safe. Her next words confirmed it.
‘Samir has been biding his time. He hates the French, even though he was in the French army and had a lot of influence. But then they left and he had to start again. He wants to become a major “player”, a word he used many times — I think from America. I believe he intends to stay here and build another network, only much bigger than in Oran. Once he links the two, he believes he will be all-powerful.’
‘He’s probably not wrong,’ said Rocco, and thought of the appalling outcome of a man like Farek moving in on the established gangs in Paris and Marseilles. It was the way of things: every new gang boss had to be more ruthless and nastier than the one before, just to prove that he could. It would turn the two cities and everywhere in between into a battlefield.
‘But first,’ Nicole continued softly, breaking the thought, ‘he will not rest until he has his son back… and I am dead.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
They left the barge a few minutes later. Before parting, Rocco asked Nicole again if she would be safe where she was. Any place he might suggest as a safe haven would be official, therefore requiring paperwork and details and the inevitable dispersal of information. He couldn’t take that risk.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘My friend Amina is not part of the Algerian community. She doesn’t know about Farek, so does not have any fear of him. But she knows what it is to fear someone. We only just met, but I trust her like a sister.’
‘Good. Does she have a telephone?’
Nicole hesitated, so he explained, ‘I might need to contact you urgently if I hear something. You might not have much time. You should be ready to move at a moment’s notice.’
She saw the sense in it and wrote a number and an address on a piece of paper. ‘It is a telephone in the house, but anyone can use it. Don’t ask for me; ask for Amina and she will find me. I’ll have a bag packed with essentials, just in case.’
There was no loss of control, he noted, no sudden panic at the idea that her and her son’s lives might come down to a matter of minutes. He was impressed but no longer surprised; for anyone to have made their way through the people pipeline was a feat of some courage. For a woman with a small child, it was heroic.
He left her to make her way back to where she had parked her car, then walked back to the boat. He was joined along the way by Claude.
The garde champetre was carrying a shotgun under his arm. He shook his head. ‘Nobody that I could see apart from the woman. She’s pretty. Nice skin.’