Chapter 21: Third Part / Chapter 1

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 67

THIRD PART / CHAPTER 1

 

After some time, Nicole saw a newspaper headline: “The masseur was suspended from work at the clinic for sexual abuse.” Still, this woman, René, reached the nearest police station and this pleased Nicole. Judging by the description in the newspaper of his violations, pulling off the gum of his underpants, this was exactly the person she was talking about on the phone.

Unfortunately, there was one detail; Paul didn’t consider of the content of the recorded telephone conversation with Rene important at all to the question in approving of the clinic’s loan application. He said this:

“Listen, Nicole. The truth here, in its pure form, is not needed by anyone. The clinic generates income at the expense of massage therapists, although they don’t go there to the gynaecologist or dentist. Just think, the head physician attached some relatives. But massage therapists make money, which means the head physician will be able to repay the loan.”

“And if lawsuits follow?” Nicole asked seriously. “Is it possible that the bank won’t suffer reputational damage by financing them?”

“Nicole, but you still don’t understand the informal rules of business,” Paul said as if he understood them. “Their assets, their damage—they’re responsible for it. And we’re here simply by the partnership agreement.”

“Even if they’re sued, and the doctors are of dubious tailoring,” added Roy, “they will sue the clinic, but not the bank. Forget. And then, no matter how they criticize anything, there’ll be a million people who’ll defend even the worst idea.”

Nicole remembered Ragna. Yes, this is the case concerning religious cults. And after all, these pseudo-Catholics weren’t respected; they were considered heretics who distorted the foundations, and if someone left the community, even under the influence of devastating criticism, then an extremely small number of people would notice.

At that time, she noticed that it wasn’t the chaos that scared her most. She’s afraid of the ambivalence in people; people who stick out in the same place as amoebas and don’t even try to change anything. Until they themselves are killed, they won’t do anything.

Nicole was very disappointed that she wouldn’t achieve the truth in the Banque de Morales. After all, first was always the interest of the business. Seeing in the newspaper material about reprimanding a perverted masseur, she decided to call René. The woman has not added anything new.

“Hello, Nicole. But I already explained everything. I don’t understand how I can help anymore.”

“Have you seen the material in the newspaper La vivre de Paris? Did you contact the police?”

“I saw it. It’s good that this massage therapist, finally, won’t work. No, I didn’t go to the police, I thought it was you.”

The woman has not added anything new.

Come on! If Nicole heard something about something, this doesn’t mean that she’s a victim or has facts that only the victim can know. “Well, amoeba,” Nicole could say aloud but didn’t.

She hung up, but disappointment, which seemed like a lump in her throat, quickly gave way to an understanding of the fact that someone had still punished been. It doesn’t matter who and how reported.

* * *

Alain Renard didn’t need to explain for a long time that Nicole brought a voice recorder to his flat to record conversations. She reported additional work. Alain didn’t hear the conversation on the phone at all and didn’t even try to find out any details. He had his job at the bank. Nicole asked about the structure of the bank.

You can rely on the injustice of the bank or any other economic structure that wants to make money, but the fact that people do nothing and don’t even try makes her almost more irritated than people who harm.

“Blood knows structure. The rest people—I don’t think so.”

“Really? Such a secret organization with trade secrets and some employees know who is <i>Blood</i>.”

“Deeply. Blood—he’s like that. No one knows what is on his mind, but he knows how to conduct business.”

“I suggest so, Alain. I’ll tell you something about the structure of my department. Perhaps you don’t know this. Will you answer my old question?”

“Maybe. Well, so what did you find out?”

“He has two telephone customer service departments. One deals with ‘idiots,’ the other with loyal customers.”

“I know about the two departments. Did you want to talk about this?”

“No, not only about that. As an economist, I have a suspicion that Banque de Morales is not a self-financing company.”

Signe d’argent is their affiliated company.”

“I think that the bank has several affiliated companies, but Blood doesn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Why did you think that?”

“I see it in everything! Every day we ask the businessmen who want to take a corporate loan from us the same questions. I would ask Pierre himself. How did his bank achieve this growth? Training, but ‘non-educational service.’ He does finance ‘trainers’ from what? It seems to me that Pierre may be doing something illegal. For some reason, he came to the banking sector, and he’s trying to find methods of his old business from other people.”

“Is the whole police force, including the economic departments, so corrupt? Anti-virus manufacturers don’t accidentally infect users’ computers in order to stimulate demand for their products? It’s just a conspiracy theory, nothing serious. I don’t know the answers to these questions, and I don’t think that <i>Blood</i> will answer them.

Nicole saw Alain walking in the “headphones” and with a gun holster, which, among other things, he never squeeze in hands. Perhaps he started at the bank with security. She was definitely not sure whether Alain himself could have killed Gerard to take his post.

“I don’t understand, why do you need information about who told me about the murder of Gerard? From what you said, I only learned that there are telephone voice recorders in the bank. They aren’t used in our telephone department.”

“You know what only an event participant can know. Who are you? Excavator driver? One of the guards in the van? Or were you not there at all?”

“You won’t believe it. I wasn’t there at all.”

“Where is this mysterious excavator driver? Can I contact him or he did evaporate? They couldn’t offer him any more paid vacancy in the bank to make him silent?”

Blood could do this.”

“You’re so sure as if he said it to you himself.”

“Well, I’ll talk to you about another criminal case that I heard. It’s unlikely that I participated in two different episodes.”

Meanwhile, Blood retained Gerard’s motorcycle number plate. A year later, he met with thirty-five-year-old drug addict Nicolas Kurt, slipped him the motorcycle license plate and asked him to confess to the murder, which he didn’t commit. Blood was ready to pay him any amount of money after Nicolas returned from prison. If he doesn’t agree, then he’ll be killed, and the case will be disguised as a suicide.

Nicolas doesn’t agree: he’s shot from a pistol. Then they throw a gun in front of him, where exactly one cartridge has been used up, together with the number plate of the motorcycle. Pierre Morales was waiting for headlines to appear on the pages of newspapers, such as “The killer of the banker Gerard Ruse of the Banque de Morales committed suicide,” but this tattooed, short-haired drug addict didn’t attract the attention of French reporters.

He needs Nicolas Kurt because he’s the son of Norman Kurt. A former shareholder who sold his stake in Banque de Morales and promised to tell the truth to reporters “as soon as I collect all the evidence.” Norman himself had already by this time died of cirrhosis. He was completely drunk, especially after the business went bad. What Blood didn’t know could his addict son, to whom he could transmit information, been told the truth about the bank.

The truth was that part of the capital of Pierre Morales’ bank invested from money obtained by criminal means in commercial killings. The appearance in French newspapers of such information would mean the loss of commercial reputation. Morales, having laundered this money, is no longer engaged in commercial killings, although he’s getting rid of people who know too much.

“Well,” Nicole said, “that explains a lot. This bank is so ‘self-financing company.’ And now the criminal syndicate is working, no?”

“Unless they get rid of ‘disloyal people.’ From too much disloyal.”

“One murder of a very important person probably brings him more money than dozens of killings of dummy people?”

“Sure.”

“Who provides this information to you? I hope that I won’t have to become partly criminal?

“One reliable informant. But we’ll get out of this organization, I promise you that.”

Nicole, at least for some time, wanted to believe that she was safe. The showdown is between former criminals, shareholders, and is unlikely to affect ordinary employees like Alain, Nicole, or even Paul. On the other hand, Gerard was killed, but only because he contacted the French press and spoke about the affiliated company. For the reputation of the bank, it’s more respectable to look completely self-financing.

Norman and his son Nicolas don’t look like ordinary employees.

“You asked me if I want to open some kind of business, but I don’t know in what area. I’ll be engaged in the optimization of business processes. This will be business to business.”

“Nice idea, Nicole.”

“For now, I’m ready to work at the bank. By the way, you recognized me better recently, but not one hundred per cent, however, how you got to the bank yourself, you didn’t say.

“You don’t need to know that.”

Nicole told him about a strange furniture store, and to this he replied:

“They have problems not with logistics, but with the human resources department. The same idiots first put the boxes in one corner, and then look in another.”

“Logistics is an inanimate thing, people are responsible for everything. If people are so-so, then the logistics are the same.”


Submitted: October 15, 2019

© Copyright 2020 RomanBoukreev. All rights reserved.

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