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“No,” the captain said.
“Ali was a decorated officer of the judiciaire,” Louis complained.
“I don’t care,” the captain replied. “I’m not moving.”
Looking as though he was on the edge of a meltdown, Farad said, “They think I’m part of the AB-16 conspiracy because I attend the imam’s mosque. They have him here too, and Firmus Massi. Both men are like me: moderate, and absolutely opposed to radicalism. We are being framed.”
“If so, we’ll prove it,” Louis said. “I promise you that, Ali. But right now we need your help on the Kopchinski case. It now involves, we believe, certain people you might know.”
Farad shook his head in weary disbelief. “You think I’m involved on the wrong side of this case too?”
“No,” I said. “Nothing like that.”
He puffed out his lips and blew out. “What can I do for you?”
Louis slid his cell phone across the table and showed him the two pictures I’d found on the memory stick. He tapped the face of the only person in either photograph. “Recognize him?”
Farad leaned over and studied the picture, and his head retreated. “Really? You’ve got actual evidence that he’s involved?”
Before I could reply, we heard a man and a woman shouting outside, demanding to know where we were, and how the hell we’d gotten inside.
Chapter 69
CAPTAIN GRANDE LOST several shades of color. “Time’s up, Louis.”
Louis ignored him and said, “Tell us what you know about—”
“I said enough!” Grande roared just before the door flew open, and Investigateur Hoskins and Juge Fromme stormed in.
The crippled magistrate pointed his cane at Farad and said, “Take that man back to his cell. Now. And put these two under arrest for obstruction.”
“Obstruction?” I said, getting to my feet. “We’re part of his defense team. We have the right to—”
“What do you know of rights in France?” Fromme thundered. “You, Monsieur Morgan, have no rights here. And I’m going to make sure you’re deported in the morning.”
“You let them in here?” Hoskins asked Grande.
“They said they were working on another case,” the captain sputtered. “Nothing to do with AB-16.”
I expected Louis to jump in, but then I glanced back and saw him talking fast and low to Farad, and I knew I had to stall.
“That is one hundred percent true,?
? I said. “It’s a missing persons case involving the granddaughter of one of my oldest clients back in California.”
Completely unconvinced, Fromme said, “Her name?”
“Kim Kopchinski,” Louis said, standing up from the table with a nod to Farad. “She’s a U.S. citizen, and we believe she is being held by someone involved in a murder here in Paris a few days ago—someone who is also of great interest to the judicial police in the south of France. Isn’t that right, Ali?”
Farad nodded. “You can call my former partner, Christoph Le Clerc, if you don’t believe me. He’s been working to put this guy away for years. It would be a great coup if he were taken down.”
The magistrate looked as though he wanted to break his cane over his knee, but then said, “Out with it. Everything.”
It took us about fifteen minutes to explain to the judge about Kopchinski, the lighter, the memory stick, and the connection to Marseille. When we were done, you could tell he didn’t like it, but he said, “You have this memory stick?”
“We have the data on it,” Louis said.
“We just want to make sure Ms. Kopchinski is returned safe and sound to her grandfather,” I said. “That’s all this discussion was about.”
