33. The setting


The body of the young white man jumped up in front of them like a metal spring. He showed them through his body how one comes out of the prison of the event by having a special attention to what he called the "zero point”...

-This mind and body position brings the spirit freedom. You perceive the entirety of the options which are included in the space ...You cease to follow what is “old”... You have the possibility of the "new" ... and you have a new and fresh spirit.

In addition, it also gives your body an immense energy that is projected all by itself, without you having to strain your muscles and your will.

They did not really understand, but the whirling body of the young White Man was a witness to the truth of his words.

So they tried to listen with their bodies and to understand.That is what is was, what he had asked them to do.

-Give your mind up at the door ... Use the power of the body, which can connect you with Earth as well as with Heaven.

What they did not know (because he did not tell them), was how absolutely necessary it was for him to move his body to the extreme, so as to control the force of the immobilization that was trying to enter into him for the past few days. Only true and extreme movement could protect him from this action. He had to be faster than the vibration of this force.

Only Heidi and Tong were aware of something that was not "normal". They were worried.

The young White Man drove his body to its limits and sweat broke through the skin. Hiro watched him from the chair of the "combat master". He tried to trace in the body of the young white the poison which he had been mingling into his dinner for the past two days ...

"Tomorrow he will be ready for a meeting with the Master ... He feels something, but he will not succeed in controlling it ... Nobody has ever been able to withstand the effects of these products that reduce the vigilance!”

He smiled.



Excerpt from the book of the Shin Family


11. The Form of Combat


He walked with slow steps up the street again, his mind was somewhere else - he took no notice of the four-lane street full of cars. His ears no longer heard the sounds; his eyes were fixed on something in the distance. As "Small Father" always said, "My son is going into himself. Do not disturb him! ... We must never pet the whiskers of the tiger." The monks knew that and then made a wide berth around him. It was known that in a movement of lightening he was even capable of killing.

- Aha ...! So the wool has been pulled over your eyes ...

Marc Antoine was sitting, leaning against the door, on the back seat of the Jaguar. He did not ask him how he had got into it and he barely looked at him, almost as if it was normal that he was there.

- Yes ... I believe so.

- You believe? Or do you think? ... It is not the same, hey!

- Yes, I know.

- What do you believe to know, hey? You’ve only been here since yesterday morning!

- Yes, I know.

- I know that you have been told a lot of shit and that you no longer get it ... That’s what I know!

- Yes.

- Because you believe that Steph had a huge force that was greater than AIDS.

- You know this?

- Of course! Everybody knows that... Yes, you have understood me, hey!

- I'm afraid I know nothing anymore.

- Do not worry, I'm here.

- You were talking about AIDS?

- Yes ... apparently you did not wash your ears this morning! ... I said that STEPH was not someone who let himself be brought down so quickly, because someone had put his prick into his ass and gave him AIDS... Nobody needs to believe that!

- You knew then!

- Hey! What’s that ?!... You haven’t understood a thing! You don’t think that I, Bébert and the rest of the gang will let you sleep! Steph was one of us ... one of us here from the neighbourhood.

- However, he was a bit of an outsider ...

- You want to say a bit lonely ... No problem, yet he was someone from our neighbourhood and WE do not like it that one of us gets stuck into a box... Do you understand?

- I understand. But that does not answer my question how you knew that I was here in this hen house.

- Hey ...! The Japanese woman from the rue Mouftard ... is she good in bed?

- Okay! I understand ...

- There is nothing more to say ... It would be too long to explain.

He started the engine and the heavy machine vibrated gently. Marc Antoine sat up, his back firmly pressed against the seat, his head straight.He looked at the street with half-open lips.

- Say, how does one open the windows in these cars?

Bret smiled and opened the first one. He lacked only a chauffeur’s cap and the boy would have been satisfied. Some people turned around. Marc Antoine extended the opening of his lips and turned his head backwards, sitting comfortably in the pale yellow leather. The vocabulary and the tone of Marc Antoine were as if from Bébert. They had probably talked to each other in the night.He did not ask him what he knew, because he would say nothing.

While the Jaguar drove aimlessly through the centre of Paris, because he only wanted to chauffeur the boy a bit around, he decided to act according to his character. If a wall of silence was being built up around him, he would organize a veritable chaos.

- What kind of newspaper does one read here? he asked Marc Antoine.

- Hmm ... the Figaro, France Soir ... so was halt. That sort of thing. My old man reads the "Monde", says he needs it for his work. He is with the stock exchange.

- So we will go to the "Figaro." I like the name. It's an opera. And what I will soon perform will be similar to an opera!

- What! An opera ... what is that?! I thought you were a cop.

- I am.

- I don’t get it.

- Everyone gets a turn. You and your Bébert, you need not believe that you have a monopoly on questions without answers.

- I still do not understand! ... and besides, it is not "my" Bébert...

- Do you know where the publisher of this newspaper is?

- Not far ... I'll show you.

- If I understand you correctly, you will stay with me.

- You understand well, hey!

- There is no smoking in the car!

The offices of the editors were a real ant hill. Bret found an elderly man who was sitting behind a wooden table, which was serving as a reception desk.

Marc Antoine followed him on his heels, and he did not seem bothered by this.

I explained what I wanted and showed my police badge.The man in the grey shirt (the same ones they used to wear in the offices) straightened his curved spine, and disappeared without a word through one of the rear doors.

- What are you going to do with the editor?

-You will see ... Since you and the others have decided to be silent.

The old man returned and gave him back his card, which he still held in his hand.

- Monsieur DURAND expects you in ten minutes. Third door on the left. It’s written on it.

- But WE have not decided not to be silent...! What you say is not true.

- Well, if it hurts you, I will express it differently: I do not like it when one fools around and my method then is to step directly inside with a kick.

The door was made of glass and Bret smiled, because he saw himself in the backdrop of a post-war movie. He expected a heavy man with hairy forearms and rolled up shirt sleeves - with the phone to his ear. At the same time the ringing of two more on a table piled high with a mountain of senseless papers ... the hair held back with a baseball cap.

- Come in.

The voice sounded determined and authoritarian. On the door stood "DURAND, Editor in Chief." The man was thin, had a jacket on and was almost bald. He did not smoke and his office was not like a bird cage in which people were buzzing around everywhere. He could also have been held for the head of a department at the “Galeries La Fayette”. Only the eyes had no place in this good-natured appearance. They were dark and hard, they tried to pierce one too.

- What do I owe the honour of the visit of this famous policeman, who has been announced by the first French magistrate with such a major drum roll?

I like that!

- Do not worry, my dear Mr. Editor ... Whether it's your rag now or another, I don’t really care. What I like is the name. The rest I do not care about. I have many faults, but not the one of reading newspapers ...But I beg you! Now do not hesitate ... you can say what you want about this Premier. He is, as you put it, one who is not sure that it is even him ... if you look at how the magistrates jump around with him. But, as I already mentioned at first: one must not fool oneself, because ONE gets the boss ONE deserves!

The guy looks at me with his mouth open and I see three places with caries in his front teeth and a few tobacco stained teeth. If the guy does not smoke anymore, it's not so long ago ... Since I have enjoyed a perfect upbringing (and I can not repeat often enough that a teacher as a mother is like a trampoline for a start into life), I do not tell him that he stinks from the mouth and that a minimum level of politeness would be not to look at people in the face when he opens his mouth.

- So ...! What do you actually want now, Commissioner ...

- Good ... Let's get straight to the point. The old geezer at the front desk said that you only have 10 minutes time; we should not waste it with useless protocol skirmish between two intelligent people.

- I'm glad you say that.

- Let’s turn to the turbo ... I want you to work for me.

- Aha ... And for free, I guess.

- For free ... Very good guess.

- Maybe some royalties ...?

-You can donate to the Sisters of Mercy, so they can buy vibrators.

The man leans back in his chair and begins to laugh with his mouth, but I see very well that his eyes do not let me go for a second. He is probably wondering what will be coming next after such an introduction. Do not think that because .. I’m not like that! I always prepare my coup and this "appetizer" beforehand, so that not too much time is lost, until the next course is on the table. You know ... it's like the Vaseline you ask for, after your wife has turned her back on you.

- May I ask, what ...?

- That’s what I’m here for, Mr. Editor.

- If you do not mind, could you please put "Head" in front of that...You know ... one has ones little habits, as one get older.

- Okay, Head ...! no problem, as long as you will work for me.

- Well? You have another six minutes left.

- All right. You will see that you will not be disappointed when I open my mouth.

- I'm all ears.

I sit in the chair, which is next to the half-open window, so as to get a little bit of fresh air. Marc Antoine does not know where he to put his bones and he watches me like a fish, for which the oil is too hot.

- Take the papers there from the chair and sit your ass on it ...my driver, I say to the chief editor, who slowly gives the impression of getting somewhat annoyed.

I find that he will soon be cooked through. He has just the right tension in him to get upset, which will in turn reduce his understanding...according to the well-known law, that no two places can be in pain at the same time.

- Please ...! As you know, the EMPEROR of the French people has asked me to find the killer of a certain STEPHANE COLAS, a mere 12 year old boy ...

- I know ...Everyone knows that!

- Well then ... My dear editor or managing editor or whatever you want to be named, because it is totally irrelevant to me... you are just working in a building in which printed nonsense results ... so: EVERYONE you say.This makes me very angry!

- I do not understand ...

- What do not you understand? ...The nonsense that you print or the rest?

- The rest .. that the "EVERYBODY" makes you angry.

- Very easy. Ever since I have been trying to find a trail to find something new ... since then I have noticed that everything that is new for me, is also new for the public and that they are also being treated as fools like I am, because we are being kept up to date. And your part is right here! You will engage yourself, call things by their names and cause a huge mess!

- An example please.

- The revenge of Stéphane through AIDS.

- What ...!

- I would not tell you otherwise.

- But who? This information is outrageous! WHO? ...

- I'm still looking ... But both the police and the families know it.

- When?

- Good question ... I can see that behind your airs and graces a bit of journalist has remained! ... Ten days before his death.

- Huh??

- Here you go ...! If your reflexes are not under control and you have to utter a cry when you open your mouth, please, I ask you politely to either turn towards the radiator or to put on a gas mask.

- Huh??

- You repeat yourself, my dear Head Editor. Are you deaf?I, the Division Commissioner of the special unit from the Elysée Palace, who has the power to do so, TELL YOU and ask you politely to open your floppy ears before you open the pages of your newspaper: the POLICE were informed, even the family and the whole neighborhood, BUT NOTHING OF THIS IS IN THE REPORT TO THE PRESIDENT ... Get it?

- Are you saying that the President has not been informed?

- Ah! You are waking up!

And now he shouts into the intercom: "Chity ... IMMEDIATELY! "

- It is a hard and non-conformist journalist WE now need for this case, he says to me and throws me a look as if he were a carp, waiting for a dessert...

There appears a small curly head, which must have come into the world in the south of Morocco. He is wrinkled like a monkey and has a disastrous appearance. Not old, but you can see all his vices in him, which haven’t passed him by. He looks like fifty, though he must be about thirty years old.

- Put your ass where you want and listen! says the head editor.

The wrinkled face does not seem to be shocked in any way about the manner in which the boss talks to him, which again is proof for me that I have seen through middle-class mask of this editor guy.

He pushes the paperwork to the side to a corner of the desk and places his bottom on it, the left leg dangling back and forth in the nervous rhythm of the statements.

- You will put this on front page! Tonight ... And so that it catches the eye!

- You say "EVERYONE", Commissioner of the ....

- Yes ...! Listen. This guy, he will report everything to us, in gutter language, and he is a policeman of the "special" - unity.

- This word is actually the only one on my business card that has a bit of truth to it ... I say, and breathe through my teeth that I've brushed with toothpaste early today, the brand of which I will not tell you, because I have not signed an advertising contract with the manufacturer.

- So! You are not ...Tell me ... well this story is really interesting!

- Very!

- So, this "EVERYBODY" ...

- A gang of boys from the neighborhood knows it.

- Yes, yes ... Stéphanes mates?

- Not even them ... Only mutual agreement together, no more.

- Proof ... Because if I understand correctly, you are not mentioned in the report, right?

- Properly understood, my boy ...! Actually, you should be sitting behind this desk instead of cutting your behind on its corner.

- I have always said that and I am glad that you are of the same opinion, Commissioner, who may not be one.

- Exactly.

- Could one learn what ...?

- Later.

- Ah! Information thrown in ... All right ...

- So, this evidence ...reminds the editor, who follows the conversation of two men with half-opened eyes.

- The DIARY of the boy.

- What?!

- He wrote it by hand.

- Do you have it?

- Yes ... Here you are! Use it well!

The editor leafs through the pages of the booklet, Chity leans across the table to take a look also.

- Shit ...! This is outrageous!

- Well ... I'll leave you alone ... Enjoy yourself well.

- But ... one moment ... we must ...

- No. I've said it all ... For the time being.

I leave there quickly. I have planted the seeds, now they must rise! Marc Antoine has to hurry to come after me.

- Tell me ...! You exaggerate. I do not know if that will please Bébert ... WE are not against you!

- Hm?

- WHO told you that he kept a diary?

- Do you think I would not have found that out by myself?

- Shit, man!... so that’s what you’re like!

- If you want to stay with me, get into the car and shut up!

- You are not correct.

- Well ... YOU are forgetting something ... I work for Steph ...OKAY?

- Explain it.

- Feet down from the seat! ... Do you understand me?

No ... To hell with your leather, are you a philistine, or what?

- I love to end my work well and I respect it ... If I am to bash you one, just keep that up. Tell me ... if I had not come directly from Asia, in order to find the killer of Colas ...would you and your buddies have done anything?

- Um ...

- Exactly ... And that is what makes the difference for me.

- So we are enemies?

- We are not friends, that’s what it is. Guys who do not say anything and who do not do anything except to look are not friends ... Get it?

- But without us ...

- Without you I would have helped myself otherwise. Tell me, how do you think I came to have the reputation that I now have...? I have not been waiting for you for it!

- Hm ... yes ...

- As you say ...! Stay with your "hmm ... yes ...", the silence of those who do not know what to say, and tell your Bébert that I only make fun of silent and condescending observers.And if I had to poach on your preserves, I would not hesitate for a moment ... do you get that?

- Yes ... But ...

- Push off ... We are at the Boulevard de Clichy.

- I see ... And you?

- Get away.



End of the extract