YM778.TV Chapter 13 - 13 Trading
Alden said urgently, “Your Highness, let me take men to arrest Gizo.”
Joseph raised his hand to stop him, “Gizo only gave Similion thirty thousand livres, there’s no evidence to prove his involvement.”
“Then arrest Similion, perhaps he will confess against Gizo.”
Joseph had not expected the mastermind behind all this to be the Director of Paris Police and couldn’t help but frown in contemplation; given Gizo’s special status, as long as he steadfastly denied everything, merely Similion’s confession would hardly suffice to convict him.
Eman glanced at the dimming sky and said to Joseph, “Your Highness, it’s getting dark; we should head back to our residence.”
But Joseph had an epiphany upon hearing this, “That Vallian was arrested close to twilight, so the news should only reach the City Hall by tomorrow morning, right?”
Alden nodded, “He’s just a thug, surely no one will care about him.”
“That’s good!”
Joseph quickly boarded the carriage, leaned over the small table to write a letter, and handed it to the captain of the guard:
“Viscount Kesode, please send someone back to the Palace of Versailles, and give this to Queen Mary. Make it fast!”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
At four in the morning, Count Herman, the clerk of Queen Mary, yawning heavily, arrived at the Saint Antoine District police station together with Antoine, the commissioner of the Secret Police.
Without waiting for the customary greetings, Joseph warmly had hot cocoa served and pulled them to sit down.
“Your Highness called us here in such haste, is there something urgent?”
“Indeed, there is something I need to trouble the two of you with,” Joseph leaned in and began to outline his plan.
Herman’s eyes widened in alarm, “If this doesn’t work out… ”
“Leave it to me, there will be no accidents,” Antoine appeared confident, “The Highness’s method is excellent, I’m thinking of incorporating it into the Secret Police training curriculum.”
Joseph bowed to them in gratitude, “Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”
“It is our honor to serve Your Highness.”
…
As dawn was breaking, Gizo, yawning, got into his carriage, tossed his walking stick to a servant, and lazily waved his hand, “Let’s go.”
The carriage slowly started off, bumping along the cobblestone road. Gizo’s home was still some distance from the City Hall, and he was just about to rest against the seat and take a short nap when he suddenly heard the coachman cry out in alarm and the carriage came to an abrupt halt.
“What’s going on?” Gizo irritably pulled open the carriage window to see what had happened, but the door was violently yanked open.
Three burly men, wearing tattered leather caps, clad in black armor, and reeking of foul odor, appeared outside the carriage.
Gizo’s bodyguard hurried to draw his sword, but the opposing rapier was already pressed against his neck.
A thin-faced man with protruding joints gestured outside and said in a deep voice, “Everyone out.”
The servants and the bodyguard quickly got out, and Gizo was about to move but was held down, “You stay put.”
Then the three burly men jumped into the carriage, the one with the knife closed the door and said to the coachman:
“Keep going, as if nothing happened.”
As the carriage resumed, the look of shock on Gizo’s face immediately disappeared, he leaned back, and said in a cold voice:
“You must be Vallian, right? Who sent you here?”
Yes, as the Director of Paris Police, he still had some impression of the leaders of the well-known gangs in Paris. The man in the middle, missing half of his left ear, he had seen just last year—the second-in-command of the Black Sheep Gang.
Vallian’s eyes glanced toward the gaunt middle-aged man sitting on the left, and, lowering his head, he mumbled vaguely:
“Let… Let one of my men talk to you.”
The gaunt man stroked his stubbly face with a knife, glancing sideways at Gizo as he said:
“Lord Gizo, our boss wants to discuss a transaction with you.”
“You?” the latter laughed contemptuously, “What makes you think you’re qualified to transact with me? Get out of my carriage at once!”
As if he hadn’t heard, the gaunt man continued speaking to himself:
“Regarding that matter of twenty thousand livres, if you don’t listen, you will definitely regret it.”
Gizo drew out his words, “Twenty thousand livres? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Why bother to conceal it?” The gaunt man smiled, “Similion went to the tech institute with our boss, and after getting drunk, he talked a lot about, for example, the task you gave him.”
“That waste!” Gizo muttered, turning to look outside the window, “Whatever it is, go talk to Similion about it.”
“No, he can’t decide on this matter. Our boss wants you to pay those twenty thousand livres directly to us.”
Gizo seemed to be amused, “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”
“Surely, you’ve heard that a large number of the Royal Guard has arrived in the Saint Antoine District recently, and now no one dares to cause trouble there.”
Gizo’s expression shifted slightly, “So what?”
“The task requested by Similion will probably be hard to accomplish, whether by us or by the Host Gang.” The gaunt man extended two fingers, “But our boss still wants to make those twenty thousand livres.”
Gizo laughed, “Want money without doing the job?”
“No, it’s not about not doing it,” said the gaunt man, “but to directly pull off a big score, one worth twenty thousand, and then lay low.”
Gizo suddenly took an interest; he had heard about the Royal Guard’s sweep of the Saint Antoine District’s gangs and was worried about it. At these words, his interest piqued, “What do you plan to do?”
“What do we plan?” The gaunt man shook his head, “No, it’s what you want us to do.”
Upon hearing this, Gizo couldn’t maintain his aloofness any longer and sneered:
“If there’s something that can utterly disgrace the police of the Saint Antoine District, make all the newspapers put it on the front page, and have all Parisians talk about it for a year, I’d consider giving you the twenty thousand livres directly.”
The gaunt man pondered, then said, “How about we find an opportunity to sneak into the police station of the Saint Antoine District, kill ten cops, and then set the station on fire? What do you think?”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Gizo stroked his chin, a smile forming at the corner of his mouth. If the police station were burned down, wouldn’t the Crown Prince lose face? The city commissioner would certainly be very pleased, “Let’s do it!”
The gaunt man nodded, articulating each word clearly, “Let me repeat the agreement, you pay twenty thousand livres to hire us to kill ten cops and set the police station on fire, correct?”
Gizo found this way of speaking a bit strange, but the content was certainly correct. Assuming the ruffian was just inept at speaking, he nodded subconsciously, “Right, just like that.”
“No one forced you to make this decision, did they?”
“What? Of course not.”
The gaunt man looked up at him, smiling, “I’m curious, Mr. Gizo, why would you spend so much money to do things that have no profit at all?”
Gizo’s face darkened, “Fool, that’s none of your business! Now, get out of my carriage immediately, and go back to the Saint Antoine District to do what you need to do!”
“Indeed, it’s time to get down to business.” The gaunt man smiled as he put away his dueling knife, removed the worn leather hat, tore off the beard, and then drew a pair of iron handcuffs from behind, shaking them at him, “Gizo, you are under arrest for conspiring to murder police officers, destroy a police station, and threaten the safety of the Crown Prince, in the name of the Royal Police.”
Being referred to as the Royal Police was a more polite term for the Secret Police, equivalent to the modern-day FBI, with significant power, including the direct power of arrest.