Dominique Manotti - Lorraine Connection

Étienne finds Nourredine asleep on a chair in the lobby and shakes him.

‘You didn’t tell us you had a packet stashed away in Daewoo, you dark horse.’

Nourredine surfaces groggily.

‘Will you stop pissing around.’

‘Come with me, let me show you your bank statement. Right now, you’ve got more than a hundred thousand francs.’

‘You’re either drunk or stoned.’ Nourredine gets to his feet heavily, shaking his throbbing head, and makes for the toilets.

Drunk or stoned. What kind of an answer is that? Shocked, Étienne runs up and down the corridors to round up the guys.

‘Nourredine, Rolande, Maréchal, and a load of others are receiving millions from the bosses of Daewoo, come and see, I’ve found the list of payments on one of the computers …’ They laugh, and nobody moves … ‘There are porn movies too.’

‘Why didn’t you say so to start with?’

Just then, two women come running in from the cafeteria.

‘Come quickly, a fire’s broken out in the main corridor.’

The offices empty. Nourredine dithers then goes into the boardroom. Silence falls at the sight of his swollen face and bloodstained clothes.

‘Hafed, you’re in charge of security. Come on, you’re needed here.’ Hafed leaves the room and the two men disappear in the direction of the factory.

Étienne is disgusted. Nobody’s interested in the things that matter. A fire’s broken out, you’ve got to be kidding. Another dustbin fire. I’ve seen one or two a month since I’ve been here. Whereas finding out whether Nourredine’s getting money from Daewoo, yes or no … Ah well, it’s their problem. Find Aisha, she’s bound to be in the cafeteria and suggest another visit to Nourredine’s prayer mat. And then, he’s going home, he is. Pissed off with all these arseholes.

Karim’s tired too, and beginning to feel bored. Rolande is standing over the cooker in the cafeteria and there’s a lovely smell of fried onions. I’ll have a bite to eat, and I’m off. Nothing more doing around here.

Dense black smoke fills a section of the central corridor. People are running in all directions looking for fire extinguishers. Many are missing, others are empty. Hafed finds one, removes his shirt and ties it around the lower part of his face like a mask, puts his jacket back on next to his bare skin and dives into the black cloud. He gropes his way to the blazing bin and douses it with foam, then knocks it over and kicks away the smouldering rubbish. Then Nourredine arrives with an extinguisher found underneath all the stocks and finishes the job. The smoke slowly disperses through the door at the end. Breathless, the two men stand a few metres back. Nourredine gazes at the blackened sheet-metal wall, the floor strewn with rubbish and mounds of foam melting into puddles seeping towards the factory floor. Is he perhaps thinking of the offices with their fitted carpets and pastel decor? He slides down on to the floor and sits cross-legged with his back against the sheet metal, his breath still rasping.

‘It’s disgusting.’

‘Don’t complain. We had a narrow escape. The sprinklers in this place don’t work and the extinguishers are either empty or not working. We bring it up at every health and safety meeting, and it makes no difference.’

Nourredine, who recalls larking around with a bunch of guys on the waste ground squirting each other with foam from the extinguishers, looks away. Hafed walks towards the dustbin now lying on its side, and indicates a dozen or so charred remains with his foot.

‘Maybe someone added some embers to this dustbin.’ A silence. ‘I suddenly feel as if I’m sitting on a bomb.’

‘Didn’t the security guards say that they’d take care of security?’

‘Yes, you’re right. We’ll go and have a word with them at the gate.’

Outside, the night is pitch black. The overturned car is still there, but at first glance it looks as though the Korean has managed to extricate himself. The porter’s lodge is brightly lit from the inside, and the two security guards watch them approach with a little smile. Nourredine is immediately on his guard: something smells fishy.

‘Aren’t there supposed to be some of our people in here round the clock to control all the comings and goings?’

‘Yes. But I suppose in the excitement everyone went off to occupy the offices.’

‘We’re really useless.’

‘More to the point, we’re new at this. You can’t make things up as you go along. And those with the experience, who’ve done it all before and could help us, aren’t here. We’re doing our best.’

As soon as Nourredine pushes open the door, the older of the two security guards launches an attack:

‘So, you’ve let the prisoners go already? Maybe it wasn’t worth all the fuss, guys.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The CEO has just left the factory with the entire management team.’ Nourredine feels himself deflating like a burst balloon, crumpling into himself. ‘No more than ten minutes ago.’ Sounds reach him muted and distant, Hafed and the two security guards shrink and retreat in silhouette. ‘Amrouche opened the gates for them, and they left on foot, scarpering like rabbits.’ The man laughs. ‘We didn’t lift a finger, guys. This is your affair, not ours.’

Nourredine sits down, his head aching more and more, his vision blurred. He’s suffocating. The temptation is to drop the whole thing and go home. The women there: his mother and his sisters, his very young wife … Move to another job, the little chip stall in the market square …

‘I don’t get it, Hafed. Can you explain?’

‘What do you expect me to do? I was with you when the fire broke out, remember? When you came to get me from the boardroom, Amrouche was suggesting we let the junior executives depart. We’d just done the round of the offices, and there were only about twenty of us occupying. That seemed too few to hold so many managers. We were deciding to hold the five most senior managers. I don’t know what happened after that.’

No, I can’t drop it now, not after we forced the juggernauts back, the overturned car, the invasion of the offices, this strength, never felt it before, men among men, the friends who listen to me, the trust, I’m someone else, I talk, I act. Not now. He gets up, takes a couple of steps, grabs the day book. No mention of the managers’ departure and the opening of the gates, nothing about the dustbin fire. Only one rather terse entry: 17.15, the security patrol notifies us of cannabis dealing on the waste ground behind the factory. Given the general insecurity caused by the personnel’s occupation of the factory, and after having taken orders from our superiors, we feel it is wiser not to include the waste ground in our round. He feels a surge of anger, and suddenly his energy comes rushing back.

‘You’re not doing your job. Where were the security guards during the fire alert? Where is there any mention of the fire? The only thing you’re interested in is damaging the workers’ reputation.’

He tears the page out of the day book and holds it between two fingers, at eye level.

‘Hafed, have you got a lighter?’

He takes it and emphatically sets fire to the sheet of paper, then watches it go up in flames very quickly. A few charred remains fall to the floor. Then he gives the lighter back to Hafed, spits on the ground and leaves the porter’s lodge.

Nourredine and Hafed head towards the cafeteria, where they presume everyone will have gathered. Nourredine walks on in silence, frowning, letting out the occasional groan or odd word. Hafed watches him out of the corner of his eye, concerned to see him seething.

In the brightly-lit cafeteria, small groups are sitting around tables shouting, heatedly debating and making a great deal of racket. The two patrol guards are standing in front of the coffee machine, rummaging in their pockets for change. Amrouche is sitting alone in a corner, drinking coffee. Nourredine strides across the room, making a beeline for him. He’s cleaned the blood from his face and hands, but his nose is caked with dried blood. There are blue and green rings under his eyes and his clothes are covered with dark red and blackish stains. Some people didn’t recognise him when he came in. He is greeted with silence. He stops beside Amrouche, climbs on to a table, turns his back on him and addresses the group gathered in front of him in a loud voice.