God, I can’t stand him.
The judge turns to the defence, my uncle. His “Yes, we’re ready” is clear, though my attention remains fixed on Enzo Woods. The past few weeks have been a blur.
André’s voice fades as a door slams open. A tall, bald manrushes in, plopping down next to me and mumbling, “I’m sorry.” The judge’s snort doesn’t hide his irritation.
Enzo’s lawyer finally settles and says, “Let’s get started.”
The prosecutor begins laying out his case. The room falls silent.
“The defendant, Julian Garros, together with the help of Laurent Adrien Dubois Junior and Hugo Smith-Jorison, who cannot be here with us today, formed the criminal gang known as the Counterfeiter, which has operated in the United Kingdom and France for the past five years. More than a hundred counterfeits are attributed to them. Today, we judge, first of all, Garros, considered the ringleader of the gang. Mr. Saidi?” says the judge.
It is our turn.
The defence of the accused consists of something very simple and very complicated at the same time: we have to find the balance between what the prosecutor has said (that is, the truth, but that no one else will hear me admit it) and a lie that will get our client out of the grave he’s dug for himself. In this case, it is impossible for Garros to get away with it. He has confessed to being the Counterfeiter, and his accomplices have testified against him. But that doesn’t mean he can’t find a way to get the best deal for himself. He’s being accused of things that no one can prove, like being the ringleader of the trio.
André moves the microphone closer to his mouth, and my pulse quickens. I look to the back of the room just once, to where Vera is sitting. Her hair is in a high bun, and she’s wearing a navy-blue suit. Our gazes meet for a second, and I can’t tell who looks away first, her or me.
We had prepared this part of the trial together. She doesn’tknow that I’ve changed most of it, and she’s not going to be amused to find out.
“Your honour,” he begins, and makes sure to put on his best smile, “my client was part of the gang known as the Counterfeiter in the years mentioned, but, contrary to what the complainant claims, Garros was not aware of many of the crimes in which the Counterfeiter has been involved,” he says in a solemn tone, although I know that right now someone in the audience will be fuming. There are those who believe it is not possible that three best friends who commit crimes together would not tell each other what each of them was working on. Saidi is here to prove otherwise. The crimes committed by Dubois, Smith-Jorison, and Garros must remain separate. Furthermore, your honour, there was no ringleader, but the three acted in equal ways. Thank you.
Behind André, Enzo’s lawyer speaks. His speech is very similar to the one I have prepared for André; we both have the same evidence.
Well, not the same. We have not been able, for legal reasons, to have the same witnesses. But we do have the same facts. Garros gets off, Enzo takes the blame. And it was his idea, don’t judge me. My initial intention was to keep the two trials apart.
“All right,” says the judge,” Let’s proceed with the presentation of the evidence. Mr. Prosecutor, you may do so in any order you wish.”
One by one, the witnesses for the prosecution enter. Garros’ colleagues, various friends, and also some of The Counterfeiters’ clients who have offered to testify in exchange for a reduced sentence. In fourth place is the son of the president of KawtAirlines, and I stare at the table. Idon’t want to make the situation uncomfortable.
During the testimony, I jot down notes and listen from one key point to the next. I know I should focus on what’s being said since it’s crucial to the case, but my mind keeps drifting off. As the minutes pass, I get a little nervous. I don’t let it show. I’m still, quiet, and focused. Or so I appear. André doesn’t look in my direction at any time.
I can’t wait to see the public’s faces when it’s our turn to present the evidence.
Chapter 41
VERA
That bastard.
Since the trial began, Bastian has only glanced at me once, and it was barely a flicker of acknowledgement. It’s not like I’m fixated on him, checking every five minutes to see if he’ll look my way. But something’s off.
All I hope is that Bastian hasn’t changed his defence.Mydefence. An argument I’ve been working on for months. Some bits are different, and he did it withoutgiving me a single explanation.
A pit of anger tightens in my stomach as I replay every bit of my argument. It was damn good, and he’d better have a good motive to change everything.
“Begin,” says the judge
The last person to testify steps into the courtroom, called by the prosecution. One of the lead detectives on the case. I’ve seen him before, back when they were scrambling to figure out what was going on with the public payments—months of dead ends, chasing connections between industrial and tourist companies with no luck. They couldn’t find the missing link until Enzo came in and pointed them in the right direction.
Enzo. I can’t even stand looking at him.
Not that he’s glanced my way, either. I didn’t expect him to. I haven’t spoken to Enzo since I got back from Bordeaux. That same sinking feeling hits me every time I look at him. Betrayal.
And I don’t think that will ever change.
I force myself to keep my attention focused on the trial. I have studied this case inside out. I know what the man is going to say before he even opens his mouth to utter the first word.
“The Counterfeiter always follows the same pattern,” the Officer says without hesitation. “The interested party contacts him first, never in the opposite order. Once it is established what the customer wants, they find a way to get it done. The Counterfeiter had the help of various professionals who made his fakes look real. Businessmen, lawyers, doctors…” Now he hesitates. I suppress a smile. Garros had been giving them a hard time for years. “And policemen. Both defendants have refused to give names. We have tried to uncover the identity of these collaborators through the forged documents that have been used as evidence, but they are all signed with a name and an identification number that do not correspond to anyone real.”
