John Matthews - Past Imperfect

Obediently, Paveinade took out his badge and showed it to the secretary. Flustered, slightly red faced, Caubert started to follow suit.

Dominic glared at Duclos. He'd agreed with Corbeix just to stay in the background and observe. He might too easily lose his temper. He'd hoped to catch up on sleep in the nine days wait. But with the build up and expectancy towards the final issuing of the warrant — it had still been fitful. Four, five hours a night at most. His nerves were still frayed, and now Duclos was trying to steal the thunder from his moment of glory. Suddenly it was as if they were under suspicion and arrest! An inch more rope, and Duclos would reduce their visit to complete circus. Dominic saw red. Duclos' arrogance in trying to reverse the tables and take control reminded him just why Duclos had escaped justice for so long.

Dominic put his hand over Caubert's badge as it was laid on the secretary's desk. 'That won't be necessary. The arrest warrant is in order, duly signed off by Inspector Malliene of Aix en Provence and an examining magistrate. And as the most senior officer present, it falls upon me to observe and ensure that these officers are allowed to do their duty and execute the warrant without impediment.' Dominic stared at Caubert, his tone sharp. 'Now put away your badge, and get on with what you came here for. Read the prisoner his rights, and handcuff him so that he may be escorted to the car.'

Duclos looked between Dominic, Caubert and Paveinade. A battle of wills — though Duclos looked suddenly uncertain which next action would have the strongest effect. 'This is ridiculous, absurd!'

Sensing that Caubert and Paveinade were still hesitant, Dominic prompted: 'Who has the handcuffs? Let's get on with it.'

Duclos’ eyes darted between them a moment more before turning to his secretary. Slow exhalation: exasperation. No energy left to argue with proles. 'Call Jean-Paul Thibault — his number is in my database. Tell him what's happened.' Then he rounded on the two DIs and Dominic. 'One of the first things he'll be doing is speaking to your respective Commissioners in Strasbourg and Lyon. I don't think you have any idea the magnitude of error you're making here. I wouldn't hold your breath on any future promo-'

'Save the speech, Minister,' Dominic cut in, damned if he was going to allow Duclos this last frantic scramble for moral high ground. 'I'm not one of your electorate. Nor, if I have my way, will you be soap boxing to any more electorate.' Dominic nodded to Paveinade and Caubert. 'Now take the prisoner.'

As Paveinade raised Duclos' arms for the handcuffs, he muttered a quick, 'I'm sorry, sir.' Still observance of authority, albeit now reluctant. Dominic couldn't imagine Paveinade saying sorry to a street vagrant as he slapped on handcuffs.

'This is outrageous,' Duclos hissed. 'You are making a tragic error.'

Dominic leant closer. 'Yes, well. You pay for your tragic errors, and I'll pay for mine.'

They marched Duclos away. Stares of curiosity, surprise from people passing on the corridor. Whether because they recognized Duclos or just the sight of a man in handcuffs, Dominic wasn't sure. Two people were in the elevator down from the third floor; hesitant sideways glances at the handcuffs.

Dominic enjoyed every minute. He hadn't had so much fun since the Taragnon bank manager. Duclos was subdued, silent throughout. Eyes mostly downcast, embarrassed, not meeting those of people they passed.

Duclos spoke only once more on their way out, as they headed down the Parliament steps towards the car. 'You know — I remember you, Fornier.' Duclos was staring at him directly; up until then, he'd been careful to avoid eye contact.

'Yes, and I've never forgotten you.' Dominic smiled tautly. 'I'll send you flowers in prison.'

Dominic sat in the front and stared resolutely ahead as they drove off. He wished now that he'd kept to his original plan, stayed in the background and kept quiet. His hands were clenched tight in fists on his knees. He could still feel his anger bubbling. The long years of waiting, the intensity of the past weeks of investigation — and all he could finish off with was a cheap gibe about Duclos’ sexuality. But there was a momentary flinch in Duclos’ eyes that at least gave some satisfaction; albeit slightly delayed — not a recoil reaction of shock or surprise. As if it had prompted some past, unpleasant memory, and it took Duclos a second to link the two.

Jean-Paul Thibault pushed through the throng of reporters on the courtroom steps. Cameras clicked, microphones jostled for position. At first they concentrated on Duclos, but as Duclos held one hand up and Thibault's assistant clerk Madeleine led him hurriedly to the car, they swung back towards Thibault. The lawyer touched his steel-rimmed glasses, moistened his lips. The microphones moved in closer.

'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.