ERIC VINCENT

ALEXA SARBACANE, EXTRA-CLEAR-SIGHTED DETECTIVE VOLUME 6

THE UNDISCIPLINED DISCIPLE

The undisciplined disciple

Site: http://ericvincent.no-ip.org/

© Eric Vincent 2001. All rights reserved.

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Every resemblance with having existed, existing or coming situations or characters would be a pure coincidence. The office looked like a battlefield: the filled in or blank reports sheets had flied around the tiny room, the computer keyboard received a hearty dose of coffee and crumbs, closets filled with records usually locked during the absence of the tenant widely offered their contents at the sight of any chap and the hanger was spread on the ground during the escape. A fight could have taken place here and be a crime scene or a theft with sacking. Nothing to do with that! It was simply inspector Delaunay’s office. The policeman, usually picky about cleanliness, storage, order, had received a mysterious phone call. The accused guy, seating just in front of him, guilty of stealing lingerie in specialty stores, recidivist, fetish, had not really grasped the content of the dialogue exchanged between Yann and his secrete interlocutor. He just had time to pick up his jacket and was rushed in a nearby office as soon as the officer had hung up the phone. Yann had sprung like a Stunt Man, without the faintest care to the damages caused by the storm he was generated. He split the police station and rushed in his VW Polo. In less than two seconds, he had put the flashing garland on the roof of his car, turned the two-tone siren and started by polishing tires in a cloud of acrid smoke. Now he sped through Paris’ streets despite the lunch traffic jam. No matter: when possible, he took the one-way directions, sidewalks, climbed on medians while using excessively his flagship and his horn. - I gonna be dad! He screamed to passers who did not hurry enough. - Move your ass! You steer the way! Usually abiding and therefore using police powers only in cases of absolute necessity, the future father of a little boy forgot all the penal code, the driving code and also the low beam of the car (note: since he exclusively used headlights). He would become dad in a few minutes and there was no way to miss the event (note: a few minutes is enough to miss the event, I know whereof I speak: I almost missed the exit my son, I was busy at lunch quietly. Besides, he still owes me an ice cream I've ever tasted!). Juliette had called in tears, confused at having lost the water with a thirty days advance. Preterm birth and she was stuck in their new apartment, without any car, suffering from violent contractions. Delaunay heir hardly shone for his patience: a month advance! He decided to go out to see the world (note: he may come back to his mother’s womb when he will discover the world. I've personally thought to do the same thing but my six-foot-four and my ninety pounds strongly contradict my mom. I take issue against this hesitation!).

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Yann pulled the handbrake at the building entrance where they lived for four months. They had taken up residence in the fifteenth arrondissement, near Juliette’s school. Yann kept the car and “enjoyed” a few jams to reach the “Quai des orfevres”. Nothing too bad since he knew Paris as his pocket. Thus, the apartment was chosen because it was only five minutes far from Necker Hospital. Juliette often went to the hospital to monitor her pregnancy, under Yann’s behest, always attentive to his wife, very caring with her, urging her to move ultrasound if she feared any problems. Thus, motherhood took place perfectly, until this final hitch in the countdown. Yann became two, has tripled, quadrupled to doing chores, shopping, cooking, washing, ironing. Juliette absolutely had no right whatsoever to do anything otherwise, she was immediately accused of endangering the little guy’s live she got in her belly. Yann was even crazier about her as much seeing the belly was rounded. He often cried under joy, emotion of the ultimate of motherhood’s symbol vision. The household tasks were not enough to stop his exceptional energy level: as soon as they moved in three rooms flat, he began to rebuild the apartment from floor to ceiling. Everything was done. First: walls, windows and baseboards paintings. Then, the walls had received tiles or sponge or stencil paints. Finally, soils had swapped dust nests with vitrified flooring and modern light, easier to clean. The policeman had not stopped at this step: thank to the ceiling height, he had built a loft in the dining room. The closed meal corner had turned to a wide opened American kitchen. The slightest ounce of free time was used to renovate the old building. His investigations slowed. He did not care. In recent weeks, he wondered more and more about the future of policing. The ever-present danger didn’t assure the family life he wanted for Juliette and the coming Delaunay Jr. Among the possibilities, he considered the police commissioner contest. A commissioner was slightly less outside and thus had less way to be killed by a stray bullet. More, the salary was a little more challenging. But the difference between the two situations was not transcendent and his level of education may be insufficient to pass exams. Getting a job would be a different story: a young commissioner would be send in a warm area to begin. Moreover, if he would need two or three years to reach his goal, it would be ten times enough to be killed by a guns maniac. No ... Another possibility interested him more: insurance investigator. It was better paid and had to deal with crooks destroying property to receive bonus, compensation, and sometimes occasional criminals eliminating a spouse or ascendant to cash a life insurance. He would try to enter the service of a well distributed company in order to reduce insurer business travel. The advantage would be to develop work schedules a little less chaotic than he practiced in the Police. However, the business would probably be a little less varied than in the service where he systematically harvested all the mysterious, bizarre or unexplained business. A final conversion existed: since he inherited bizarre business and that he had made a specialty, he could work with Alexa hundred percent. He would deal with computer research, logistics, and even police action when they couldn’t avoid it. He would try to keep enough excellent relations with his former colleagues so that they would give on him gently insoluble files filling the closets of the great house. Thus, they would have an inexhaustible source of potential business. Obviously, this solution required the shadowy Alexa Sarbacane’s agreement. He should debate with the young woman as earlier as possible. The problem was 4

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precisely the possibility of holding a normal conversation with her. Since Stephane’s death, she rarely came at Delaunay’s Home. Yann planned to organize a housewarming in the coming weeks to invite Alexa. She had become so silent (note: I’m swimming in full science fiction. Alexa, taciturn… Anything worry! It will not last!). He knew she merely conducted traditional investigations of fraud or information leakage. Nothing hearty using his supernatural gifts. She spoiled her talent. The inspector had consumed a case (The guru of Kuru’s case) for the current year, but he saw nothing on the horizon by the end of the year. And it was already in early august! Which pretext would he seize to convince her to cooperate? Juliette was lying on the bed, on the mezzanine, and was unable to come down. The contractions had assaulted her as she grew watching a morning show on the first television channel (note: I catch you not to follow: a cultural program on the first channel! It doesn’t exist: either the morning or the afternoon, not more during the eve! Please, watch me!). Therefore, it was impossible to get off her from the perch. - Juliette? Between two gasps, she shouted: - I'm up! - Oh dear! Does it hurt you? - No, no, everything's fine! I give birth in five minutes and my health is perfect. I'd better tennis. - What? - It hurts, of course! I terribly suffer! This is awful! Yann climbed the stairs as fast as possible. His wife was lying on the couch, legs up. Her dress and the seat were quite wet. The inspector, novice future dad, was still unaware that his love would turn soon into a shrew. She would insult and accuse him of having made "it", the source of her pain and this for a few hours. It was only after the issue and the toddler discovering on her belly that she would become gain the lovely creature she embodied before. Yann discovered the joys of fatherhood. He leaned toward her. Not to kiss her (It was not really the time to do it and he might even get a slap if he tried to touch her lips) but she clung to his neck. After the maneuver, he carried her to walk down the stairs. A delicate operation since his inner ear, center of balance in humans, was undermined by the shrill yelling of Miss Delaunay (Author's note: the women yelling makes deaf (the " Honey? Did you prepare some dishes?" of the woman invariably meets the "What? I have not heard!" of the man) and makes completely silly a man (the "Tonight, darling, there is a retrospective of the contemporary art of Bangladesh" of the woman invariably encounters the "Damn! You suck! The is soccer with Ronaldo on Sport TV!" of the man) The women screams can have serious consequences on the middle man whose abilities are already poor!). 5

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When Delaunay couple, plus the excess weight of the bun in the oven, had returned to terra firma, Juliette felt strong enough to move forward with her own transport means (her legs). She leaned on Yann’s shoulder not to risk a skid on the floor. The future father took the suitcase ready at least for two years (Author's note: I'm exaggerating slightly the bunch preparation delays) before locking the apartment. Once the four floors of the building were taken down by the elevator (which had the good idea not to fail at this moment), Yann made a clean sweep in front of his beloved princess for any unexpected obstacle impedes progress. The situation was urgent: the contractions were more regular and strong, the adrenaline levels increased with the rate of insult. The threshold of hearing would be reached soon if he did not succeed to bake lady and her luggage in the Polo quick enough. There he would have time to broadcast a special Mozart CD to soothe Juliette’s pain (Author's note: I may be confusing with Richard Clayderman This kind of music should remove any kid to want to go out, no?). In any case, he would increase the sound of the radio to its maximum: Amadeus’ decibels were worth Juliette’s decibels. He gallantly opened the right front door for his wife, installed her while momentarily removing his fingers from his ears and embarked baggage in the car trunk. The beacon still in action, he took off for emergencies to join the Necker hospital, praying that the obstetrician doctors are all available. Juliette yelled: - Faster! I feel the baby will come out. Panicked, Yann buried the throttle and was on the verge of playing bumper cars with other road users. Even during the most dangerous police chase, he had never shown such an increased excitement. Car traffic thickening by the minute, he thought his last hour had come (Author's note: I'd rather afraid for the car seats! A birth in a car, it is a blow to soil upholstery for the remaining days of the car. Fortunately, I planned everything in this scenario: I have a Fiat whose seats have already received copiously soft drinks, bread, chocolate happily squashed by brats and other miscellaneous food debris. It does not fear anything. Besides, I use my vacuum cleaner once a year in! Like this, any mom won’t want to release anything in my car because it is so disgusting! Clever writer, right?). - Are we still far? Juliette was yelling like a rabbit being slaughtered (Author's note: for men who think I'm exaggerating, we'll talk about it after your first pregnancy. You'll see!). - We arrive!

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Yann finally reached the avenue bordering the main entrance of the hospital. It was time. The poor inspector was exhausted and frazzled. He just had enough strength to get out of the cockpit. * ** Yann luckily didn’t smoke. Fortunately, smoking was not allowed in the hospital compound and less in the motherhood section. Otherwise, he would have smoked cigarettes until the filters. Fortunately for him, a food and drink machine was available. To calm down, he revenged on coffee. He drunk the fourth when the gynecologist, Dr. Mareva Gina, (born in Polynesia), met him. - Why can I attend the birth? - Well ... we put your wife under monitoring and found an irregular heartbeat of the baby. - What does it mean? - His heart beats irregularly. It’s strange. - Do you perform a caesarean section? - No. I just wanted to warn you. You may attend a difficult delivery. The child could be severely cyanotic. - Blue? - Yes, maybe. More, it lacks a month of growth. We will put him in an incubator. - Will Juliette give birth now? - Not now. - But she said she felt him coming out. - It was only the first contractions. The child will come in an hour or two. We will apply a dilating gel and an infusion to help. - Do you use an epidural? - I hesitate, because of the child weakness. I prefer to avoid too many products in the mother’s blood. Products pass rapidly into the blood and therefore in the child. - Could he have quite the cord around the neck? - No, the symptoms are different. - Is it serious? - I don’t know. Come on! Let's go! Please, take a gown, gloves and charlotte. Mareva Gina’s words had nothing reassuring. Yann thought one person in the world could reassure him: Alexa. She would have used her clairvoyant gifts to determine whether or not their child was in danger. Suddenly, he remembered a detail: they did not choose the birth name. They had both a list but no name had appeared together. The subject has been discussed the previous day. Yann stopped on Gwenael, Erwan and Loic, as a good pure strain Breton. Juliette had hesitated between Bastien, Marius and Caesar as a pure Provencal woman. In a few minutes, an hour or two, at most, he would take care of the birth certificate.

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When he entered the delivery room, he suffered of dizziness. Was it due to the sight of the brackets on which his wife had set her feet, legs in the air and spread in the sight of all the medical staff? (Author's note: I can see you coming with your allusions! Legs in the air, spread, etc ... Laugh if you want but the day you will be the witness of a birth, you won’t fantasize, I can guarantee it!) He quickly approached Juliette to solve the problem. - Juliette ... We did not choose the first name! - The name? What name? She was at hundred leagues from these trivialities, too concentrated on breathing as a small dog (Author's note: a dog during summer when it's hot. Because during winter, a dog doesn’t breath faster than you and me. Lamaze lessons never teach this significant point, which explains the many failures when the end is reached and the big moment arrived). - The name of the baby. She screamed more: - But I don’t care of it! Yann realized it was useless to insist. Strangely, inexplicably, Juliette’s mood was bad as he was extremely helpful and courteous. He already ordered a gorgeous necklace for her wife to thank her for the birth (Author's note: if I had been Yann, I would have waited to see what the three or four kilograms child looked like before rush at the first junk merchant. Imagine one second the child is black… Thousand euros for a gold chain with a stone at the end for a brat made with the postman! There is something to strangle himself. I give this advice to future fathers: wait to see the beast and how your wife screams before handing the wallet). He was close to regret his wonderful gift. He put the chosen sex seed (the man chooses) and ensured the survival of the "Delaunay" name: despite this, he would not have any thank you gift. He would only get a simple "darling" before or after "it's up to you for bottle feeding baby" (Author's note: you feel my experience, don’t you?). The poor future father, crestfallen, merely stood up while holding the hand of Juliet. Even this relatively simple gesture cost him dearly because he soon found himself with five nail brands, visible on the skin as the patient encrusted in him. * ** All staff bustled around Juliette like bees in a hive. The hour of deliverance was finally near. Besides Dr. Gina, there was also a midwife, a nurse and a pediatric nurse. No man to comfort the poor Yann’s crushed hand. He sighed when Mareva ordered:

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- Push! Let’s go! You want to grow, don’t try to resist! Yann smiled: she would never resist and keep baby in box! Juliette produced the desired repeatedly effort. She cursed the whole Earth, her husband and kids, her main income source. Between each thrust, she caught her breath with the least anarchic manner to begin again her deportation efforts (Author's note: when it is so easy to call the cops to remove squatters. There are some who make life difficult, frankly! Really, what! You let two Pit-bull and two Rottweiler in a squat and unwanted occupants decamp like good ideas in the Senate and the National Assembly.). - You are! I can see his brown hair! The inspector ventured to leave his wife's hand to allow blood to flow back into his numb fingers and admire the masterpiece "made in Delaunay". Juliette pushed one more time and then head left. The gynecologist took the baby's head with both hands and swung. At the next push, shoulders appeared. In this way, she could grab the child and completely remove the cocoon in which he had been for eight months. Mareva Gina said: - It's a beautiful boy! She waved him in front of the eyes of the crying mother. Yann didn’t found him so beautiful. He was covered with whitish substance and his skin was fully wrinkled. Moreover, he was not a very important template: between shrimp and lobster, or the hermit crab. By cons, he seemed more tonic than the mollusk mentioned above. He waved and bellowed beyond reason. Finally, he was not blue or cyanotic in any way. - I still have pain, Juliette cried. - It's okay, Miss, Mareva reassured. You will still have contractions after childbirth. This is very common. They will decrease in intensity. Sir? - Yes? - Do you want to cut the umbilical cord? - It should be up my alley! The doctor gave him something looking vaguely like scissors made of plastic. No way to settle with metal for hygiene reasons? Yann was not so sure: the operation was more complicated than expected. The cord was fairly rubbery consistency and tended to slide between the two parts of these funny scissors. He finally succeeded in taking everything very firmly. Then the nurse grabbed the baby to give him a quick bath. Dad imagined that she would put him in the incubator after the toilet. He came to stand near Juliette, to congratulate and embrace her tenderly. But the young woman firmly rejected his presence and told him: 9

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- It hurts too much! It doesn’t stop! The doctor came to the rescue and said: - Hey! An extremely rare case! - What? - A train can hide another. That’s the reason why your son suffered from cardiac arrhythmia! Because there were two hearts beating! - Two hearts? How? My son has got two hearts? - No, your son has a twin brother! - A... a... The father turned to the mother a last time before conking. * ** The fact was extremely rare. However, since ultrasound invention, this event had already occurred. During the three regulatory ultrasounds, the doctor had seen one baby. The other one was well hidden behind the first. He didn’t detect abnormal heart beats, heart muscles running synchronously with a few brief moments in the lives of children where they were auscultated. By pure chance, the final monitoring revealed the lack of synchronization. A second child, strictly identical to the first since it was identical twins (Author's note: this means that they come from the same egg), was born a quarter of an hour later. Yann had lost consciousness for five minutes as a result of shock. Incidentally, having hit the metal frame of the bed of his wife, he had collected a nice gash on his forehead and had to be evacuated to a nearby room to undergo placing two sutures! When he recovered consciousness, he was able to ear cries and to see gym sessions of two fellows in the magical showcase. He was under emotion and returned regularly near Juliette, finally calmed down and finally willing to have with her. This behavior more in line with what he usually knew, reassured him. He had feared a moment the quarantine would last forever, as sometimes happened in some couples where the wife turned radically to mother, forgetting definitely a family also incorporated the husband. - Juliet ... Twins! Do you imagine? How will we do? - We put two beds in their room, share clothes, wash more often and would need more baby bottles. - I didn’t expect this! It is so upsetting! I did not expect to... - A multiple birth? I should have told you! - Did you know? - No, not for me. But I already told you about Ginette, the sister of my mother? - Your aunt? Yes, why not? What connection is there? 10

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- That's her twin sister! The phenomenon often skips a generation and passed on by women. I did not think of as scans had not revealed. Obviously, the event brought you the effect! Do you hurt? - Yes, it is painful! He said, passing his hand over the tape encircling his head. - And what about the birth names? Did you made the statement? - Yes! It was easy! The first out is Marius, the second Gwenael. As for the other names, I put them in charge. Because we had two children at once, I do not think we recover to work immediately. - I do not think, Juliet said while thinking to the intense pain she suffered (Author's note: I can confirm for mothers who think it is not so bad. It's downright horrible! So horrible that a man would not survive! Fortunately! We, men, have to do war in the first line and get an eighty-eight mm bomb in full face, this is much worse! Except that usually, after bombing, we do not remember because we are dead). Having regained some of his resources, Yann finally thought to make some photos. He put the incubator near the mother’s bed and froze the scene with the most sensitive sets to avoid some aggressive flash in the eyes of babies. - They are beautiful, aren’t they? - Yes! Yann agreed, reassured by the fact that the two birds in the nest have not kept the face of a wrinkled Sharpei (Author's note: expensive Chinese dog having an excessive skin. Instructions of use: do not iron, do not undergo facelift!). - You should spend a few phone calls for the news, right? - Yes, it's a good idea! Does it bother you if I let you a few minutes? - No! Go! I know it is forbidden to use mobile phones in the hospital compound. He placed a final kiss on the lips of her former promise and left the delivery room. Within a quarter of an hour, it would be transferred to a slightly more welcoming bedroom than this torture room. As for the jokers, they will be confined at the nursery for a few more days, according to the doctors, just to get some weight. The inspector ran down the floors, light heart, cheerful. He had changed since the episode of fainting. He had no idea of the hell that awaited him as soon as they would return to the family apartment. * ** As he composed the phone number of his parents, he looked his tiny Polo car and laughed suddenly. How would he house two car beds, two strollers, suitcases, in the shoebox? Unfortunately, the recent apartment purchase prevented them sharing the small vehicle against a comfortable and spacious horse. The problem of displacement would arise very 11

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quickly. Even if the store where they were provided in a stroller, bassinet and crib agreed to take their goods and exchange, with addition of the price difference, against two-seater models accommodate the brats in the Volkswagen remained an impossible mission. There was also the solution of the roof: the twins would be outdoors and forced to admire the scenery. Alas! He seriously doubted to have a miserable chance of getting breast agreement: Juliette would refuse. He only had to read newspapers with small cars sells and acquire a crippled cattle kilometers and spotted rust car instead of spruce Polo. It was the only alternative. The kind of Swedish assault char with visor buffalo instead of bumpers or the huge American style break engulfing thirty liters of fuel per hundred kilometers. Pesky twins! They all complicated his long matured plans! Except one: two children, instead one child, would help him to let fastest the policeman profession and replace it with a more peaceful job. Yann heard a person answering the phone: - Dad? - Yes. What is happening? - You're grandfather! - Grandfather? Congratulations, son! It's a boy? We have a chance to extend the dynasty and one day soon to see a new general in the family? - Better than that, Dad! We have two chances to see a new general in the family. - Two? How? - There may be General Marius Delaunay and why not Admiral Gwenael Delaunay... - What? You mean ... you've had twins?! - Exactly! - My Lord! How did such a blunder happen? These knucklehead doctors are not worth nowadays! I'd blow my brains out than giving my body to these charlatans! Two kids and they have seen one! - This is a rare case. It already happened once! - How did you take the news? - Juliet, pretty well. I conked. - Huh?! Conk? Ah! It’s funny! Are you at Necker hospital? - Yes. Why? - I come with your mother, camcorder and gifts! We will refuel for double rations as the troops were doubled! See you later, son. Kiss your beloved half! - OK Dad! Conversations with his father General were always held in the same way: it sounded like he was talking to his soldiers, giving orders. General Delaunay inflated the torso more than usual since his son had managed the incredible feat of ensuring the offspring. He forgot too quickly forget the deserving Juliette. The General believed that the fairer sex had minimal importance in ruling the world and his own one in particular. Yann pressed to pass other calls because he knew his father would jump with a parachute from a Transall if necessary to be the first on the theater of operations.

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* ** Yann had saved the best for last: Alexa. He didn’t know if the call would fall rapidly in a spying session as he was accustomed (see "The Birth" and "The guru of Kuru") or on the voicemail if the detective had stop her phone to film or photograph quietly. The unit didn’t even have time to sound once that the blonde replied at the light speed. - Fast, Miss Sarbacane! I would swear you were expecting my call! - That's right, dear Yann! You're as predictable as the weather in Brittany throughout the year! - Are your sarcasms to my Brittany origins or to a recent stay in the Broceliande Forest? - You practice divination, Yann! Bingo! The crazy clairvoyant went rubbing the Celtic customs in the forest and met some very interesting phenomena during a month investigation. - What kind? - A little white magic for the natural part of the journey and sympathetic Britons for the supernatural part. - All Britons are friendly. - Sorry! I make my own opinion from the only one Briton with I’m intimate: you! Fortunately, I met lovely people out there who give me another picture of your peers. - Because it's like that, I will not announce the good news that I had come to peddle, Miss! - Your paternity? - You know? - Of course! A little vision, this morning. I saw you pass out finding that you had twins, against all odds! - My God! - God is always for something but it is useless to blaspheme. So what? - So what? - Do you hurt by conking? - Yes. The inspector admitted annoying not to be able to hide anything to the detective. - Where are you, Miss? Spinning? In the traffic jam? - No, I park behind you! He immediately turned. Alexa! She penned her legendary red Ladybug, roof opened for the occasion (Author's note: I remember you that the scene takes place at the end of July and at Paris. Alexa could not lower the top in Brittany during four rainy weeks and catches up correctly). She went down after the niche. The inspector could see that she had an armful of gifts. His wife had given birth for an hour and miss Sarbacane had already completed shopping for both children.

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Yann could glimpse the color of the dress from her dear detective between two bags with the logo of famous stores. A mixture of turquoise, yellow and red colors able to give back discernment to a colorblind! He could not stand it more when she stuck a good half of the packages in the arm, saying: - Hey! Be useful! - Hey! You knew I would have twins and you did not say anything?! - Hey! Shut up! The vision occurred this morning, my dear friend! There is no danger on the expiry date, boy! Then, take care of your words! - Why did not you see the twins before? - You just had to ask, big guy! Obviously! Stupid question, stupid answer! Clairvoyants do see only in the direction they are asked to watch (Author's note: Are they some blind clairvoyants? Guess! Answer: yes! Incredible, isn’t it?). - Show me the wonders! Alexa claimed, eager to see more closely what she had seen within a brief second in her visionary space (Author's note: the visionary space is a new creation of mine. After advertising space, introduced by others, I created the space visionary. This is a space where you can put visions. For example, I put a vision as next presidential elections, whatever the elected president, you will be conned after his election, saying goodbye to the promises he made, unless he promised to raise taxes and do a huge bazaar in the economy!). Yann guided her through the Necker Hospital’s corridors maze. He puffed his chest with pride when he stopped in front of the nursery. He showed the both copies. Not too chauvinistic, he found as much common points with mom and dad. Of course, Alexa teased finding that toddlers were lacking a bit of hair and they would struggle to look like aunt Alexa, the most perfect modeling puff stretched toward sky. The poor kids have some difficulty with one millimeter of silky fluff. - You said “aunt Alexa”? We don’t yet have a relationship! - I hope you'll fix it at the light speed! - You’ve got some parents. Mom and Dad cannot adopt you! - I was not talking about it. - I can’t marry you, I'm already married! More, with a treasure, a pure gem! - A gem? Hey! I’m a love diamond! (Author's note: two topazes instead of eyes, you see the jewel?) You're slow to understand, Mr. Inspector. Does the paternity soften your brain? Do you need a drawing? - I don’t know what you're talking about. - Are you okay to baptize your fellows? To protect them from all the miseries of the world, such as to have a father like you. - I guess. I didn’t talk about it with Juliette. - Move your big smart! I'm in a good day to give you my blessing and my pleasure to be the godmother! 14

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- The godmother? - Yes, the godmother! With the father they have, it is better to inherit a good fairy godmother! They have enough handicap! Yann didn’t know what to say to Miss Sarbacane. He nodded repeatedly. The petticoat detective (Author's note: Read again "Flight over Atlantic Ocean" to see how Alexa finally rehabilitated petticoat) held an exceptional health and was able to respond to his every word. Usually, he would not have the last word; today, he didn’t the faintest chance to put ten words for a sentence. Alexa closed her eyes and concentrated on children to determine if any danger was hanging over their heads. No shadow on the horizon. She grinned when she saw a distant event in the future. Their marriage. Enough to madden their parents... * ** Miss Sarbacane bored in her office. Within a week, she finally would realize her dream of responsibility towards children. Except that she would not be mother but godmother. Until this blessed day wihch would take place partly at St. Augustine church and partly in Mr. and Mrs. Delaunay’s home, she had nothing better to do than to write a small ad in a newspaper to find an assistant. For some weeks, she spent a little too much time in the reports, research and not enough on thinking and use of her gifts. Curiously, ghost stories or witchcraft became scarce. It was not due to any competition or to the fact that the fiends and other spectra were standing tile when they heard about the extra and lucid detective. No, she attributed this to the situation: divorce cases, spinning, espionage numbered in the dozens, all less interesting than the others while the mysterious stories, inextricable tangles were spaced. Even Yann had nothing to put under their teeth: the old files were solved with the Sarbacane way for ages. The answers to the announcement had exceeded her wildest expectations. About two hundred cover letters along with their curriculum vitae were received in a mailbox opened for this operation. Indeed, it was out of question to indicate in the ad her name and own address. Otherwise, she would have received hundreds of thousands of letters from people having already a job but still willing to work with Alexa Sarbacane, approaching this heavenly sun, this bright intelligence coupled with a beauty beside which the borealis aurora seemed to be a Picasso’s graffiti (Author's note: Sorry for the Picasso fans but I can’t bear his painting. More, a car of a brand with rafters has got “Picasso” nickname and I will not be advertising for this brand that has gone astray in all mundane as each other while Dede achievements, its founder, was the cantor technical and aesthetic innovation in his time. Another reason to hate Picasso!). Facing a heap of letters and photos joined, Alexa had made a first selection. She didn’t judge through the skills listed in black and white (as do most companies) or through the face of photography (like do a lot of companies), but through the visions she could have about the candidates. She had gone to meet some crispy revelations. Pell-mell, she discovered liars who 15

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artificially inflated their skills, former convicts seeking revenge from police, legal and prison system, fanciful strapped gagmen and even a young mother, a housewife searching some thrills. Obviously, the bulk of the herd consisted of peacekeepers who have resigned for various reasons, curious detectives who had the means to afford the services of an assistant, responsible for the safety of different places (warehouses, factories, supermarkets, businesses) wishing vary skills, believing that having toured the building holding a gun and hounds in a leash allow them to believe that they had enough experience. To return her investment, Alexa kept a half-dozen letters to call the candidates. She relied on their honesty, i.e. their franchise corresponding to the reality of their paper skills and their motivation. She asked to see the time on her famous watch. It was nearly eleven o'clock. In half an hour, she had an appointment with a client. He did not specify the content of the research he wanted to take, but he said that the police and the justice had failed. It was cryptic enough to excite the curiosity of Miss Sarbacane. Eleven o’clock. The mail! The postman had probably done his job. Her feminine intuition (Author's note: very feminine since she wears petticoats) indicated she would find an interesting letter. She took her purse (still imposing as a diplomatic trunk) and closed the agency. The Post was at the corner, so she was there in less than three minutes (Author's note: I just put the mailbox close to her house. It’s a writer trick. If it annoys you to describe your character taking his car or public transport, how long he loses, the other characters he must necessarily meet, and so on... put all service providers he needs close to his house, let him order pizza instead of going to a restaurant where he will list all the dishes on the menu, the wine, the atmosphere and everything! The simplest is the literary shortcut. You are completely kidding the Post unless I tell you that Alexa will meet the love of her life in that place. But if you carefully followed her adventures, this assumption is not strictly possible since she is doomed celibacy, although she is an exceptional person!). When she took the letter placed in the number 22 box (the figure meaning “cops” in France), she immediately knew there was this famous letter. The right answer! Among the bundle of envelopes, she spotted the letter to open first, despising others (Author's note: especially the one marked with the seal of the Ministry of Economy announced the good news, the kind with an amount to pay quick...). When she saw the handwriting of the address, she felt some familiarity. Of course, when she became aware of the resume, she saw a copy of Yann Delaunay’s experience. - So… You want another job? Yann postulated anonymously. She would surely tease him on this subject. The candidate had experience, of course. He was a real investigator, smart, intelligent, facing the irrational repeatedly and would ensure stewardship without any difficulty. But Yann was a partner, a friend, but certainly not an employee. For this lone reason, he might not be suitable for this position. In fact, she didn’t really seek an assistant. No more a companion.

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No... She was looking for the disciple, a gifted one. A guy with powers who doesn’t dare to use them. She wanted to share her knowledge. Yann admitted she was different and used her as he should. But it couldn’t longer, that was not enough. Now she wanted to meet a person like her, able to feel what she felt, able to experience different feelings, able to understand. It wasn’t a question of love, in her mind. The disappearance of Stephane, left for other heavens (Author's note: literally, see "Flight over Atlantic Ocean"), still left a bitter taste at the back of the palate (Author’s note: this is a picture. We're not forced to swallow two liters of Noilly Prat to have a bitter taste at the back of the palate)! She was not ready to live a love affair. As for friendship, since he regularly communicated with her through her sophisticated quartz watch, she was happy, even though she would have liked to see him with her from time to time. So, dear Yann would be returned to his camp. He would better serve the Alexa’s cause remaining outside the playground, serving not common business. When she reached the door of her office, she found a thirty-five years old man with black eyes, gray and wavy brown hair, fairly square, displaying poise and a flawless look in his dark gray suit. His tan implied he had holidays or betrayed obvious Sicilian origins. - Sir? - Are you Miss Sarbacane? He asked her with a touch of Latin accent (Author's note: I really do not understand where this guy comes from! Even from Italy, Alexa Sarbacane is more known than Silvio Berlusconi or Cicciolina!). - Yes! And you are? - Marco Roni di Mozzarella (Author's note: this man is good dough but he doesn’t’ say “cheese”). - My appointment, of course. - Sorry, miss. I’m too early. I already was in my car for half an hour and I could stand it no more. When I saw you going at the Post, I thought you had no other appointments. - You did well. Please, sit down! Alexa said, proposing the chair opposite her desk. Tell me why you came. - Here is a photo of my son, Adriano. It has been taken last year. It was a volatile and impressionable teenager. He was thirteen. I was a young dad when he was born. I only was a twenty-years-old young man. His mother died... and it has not always been easy to balance my career and the education of my son. I invested in my work to succeed and when I could finally devote myself to his education, he was already too late. I discovered a rebellious and unknown teenager. Last year, he was killed during a fight between rival gangs at Argenteuil, near Paris. He died of a ruptured aneurysm, according to medical examiners. - Don’t you believe their conclusion? - My son was healthy, miss. He was followed because I feared the same fate as my wife. Widower at twenty years makes you more wary about some points. I have not been enough on others.

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- Do not blame yourself... The education of children is anything but an exact science. Why do you think he is not dead as indicated by the police? It was forbidden to see the body? - No... It's tricky... My son was armed with a switchblade knife like most other members of the Gonesse band. Some had baseball bats. According to my information, their opponents were not armed. It was a punitive expedition. This awful day, three teenagers died in the ranks of the band to which my son belonged. All aneurysm rupture. The police only recognized one and awarded other deaths to shots. According to an eyewitness who refused to testify at trial, no gunshots were exchanged. The three thugs fell straight to the ground without even sketched a gesture of attack. The fight did not happen. They dispersed without having fought. - This is insane! Three deaths without a single shot? What are you thinking? A secret or invisible weapon? - I don’t know, miss. It's enough strange, I think, to need your help. I ask nothing for my son. It has been, unfortunately, the consequences of his actions. If he had been a tidy and wise child, he would not have been there that fateful day. But I want to understand how he and two other children had been destroyed. I just want to understand. Take your time, I'll pay. My position allows it to me. - What is your job? - I'm the C.E.O. of a major Italian shoes brand. The “Noulair” shoes. Do you know? - I wear Noulair shoes right at this moment. - Oh... I thank you to be one of our customers. - You do not know me? - No, not at all. I only read economic magazines, I'm sorry. I was advised to speak to you. - Can you let me the picture? - Of course! Everything you need! I give you a check to cover your initial costs. Twenty thousand euros, is it OK? - Uh ... Perfect... The detective was shocked by the size of the sum. She put her fingers on Adriano’s photo to whether the picture would “talk” to her. As soon as she closed her eyes, a monstrous pain twisted her brain! She fell on the floor, projected forcefully back. Her chair happily acted as a shock absorber. Marco Roni di Mozzarella rushed to help her. - What's going on ? Do you want a doctor? - No ... No ... It's alright. - You don’t look to be alright! - Yes... I felt... what happened to your son. The head pain so terrible... so... sudden. - The same pain as him? - Yes. Everything had exploded in his brain, pulverized under supernatural pressure. - Supernatural? - Yes. He died of a ruptured aneurysm. It’s a fact. But... something or someone caused it. I take your case, Mr. Roni di Mozzarella. 18

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- Thank you, Miss. Hold! You’ve lost one of your bars... he said, handing her the object. When she regained her accessory, she felt the warmth of the customer’s hands. Surprised by the softness and delicacy of the Italian, she ventured to probe his aura. This capability was easily triggered. It was like if she had pressed a switch back and forth (Author's note: Back and forth is nothing gritty!). And presto! An unreal blinding light appeared as white as a Dutch the first day of his holiday on French coast (Author's note: it is no longer valid for the following days because he will become ripe tomato color except in Brittany, of course!). - Oh! The young woman said. - What is it? - Oh... No, nothing... I was wondering where I would start my investigation. - Are you sure you think about that? - No. I’m a bad liar. - But it's enough to hide regarding serious matters. - It was not a serious matter. - What was the origin of the exclamation? - Your aura... - My aura? Excuse me but my French is sometimes incomplete... What is the aura? - Your French is a hundred thousand times better than my Italian... The aura is the color of your soul, Mr. Roni di Mozzarella. - It must be very dull, isn’t it? I have not been a good father, attentive to the concerns of his son. - Your soul has got an enviable color, sir. If souls had all this color, life would be only softer. - Thank you, he added simply and humbly. He left her at the light speed, such as if a string of appointments awaited him. Alexa was quite taken aback by the attitude of her customer. She had not offered free compliment because it was the truth. However, he had received it like an assault. Why? What a pity he hid in his heart? Was it due to the death of his son and his wife? Why was he so defensive? The investigation should be thorough. Namely, to understand the son, she should understand the father, the late mother, around the world if it was useful. A real thorough investigation as she liked. Business started again. She soon forgot the need to train a disciple facing the joy and excitement caused by the mystery. * ** Yann had calmly turned on the computer and waited patiently as the operating system of the machine initiates and completes the boot sequence. When he had the opportunity, he called the word processing software to capture the terms of a letter (Athor’s note: I translate the workings of a computer in literary terms. Here is how the computer scientist, translates word for word. "By annoying, Yann has booted the bike while cursing the damn Windows 98. As

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the Pentium processor has only got a 400 Mhz frequency, it took two hours before clicking on Word software and write an umbrella note! So? Which version do you prefer?). He had written the date of the day and “dear mr Minister” when he heard a voice in all police station speakers: - All inspectors and peacekeepers must go Kleber’s avenue! A riot takes place and seems to have been triggered by a band from the suburbs. Be careful! The rioters have guns such as revolvers, Molotov cocktails and knives. They also have attack mastiffs. I repeat: all inspectors and peacekeepers must go to Kleber’s avenue! Yann thought: "Damned! Usually, we send the Republican Security Company to handle this kind of event. Why us?" A legitimate question! Usually, in fact, only the RSC was entitled to hold this type of intervention. Only for the purposes of the scenario, the author of this short story had decided to change the rules. We had to make arrests and interrogations by inspectors because it suited the author (Author's note: and the author, it's me, I do what I want, for example, if I want to change the laws in my stories, I do! So I decreed the abolition of taxes!). Readers should therefore be satisfied with this whimsical answer. Reluctantly, the inspector - promoted father- had boarded in a Peugeot with three colleagues to go play the shooting chickens by dozens of commuters searching some entertainment. The coming confrontation didn’t enjoy him. Stray bullets were not uncommon in the confusion. RSC would not chick with tear gas and inspectors would benefit as much as the rioters. Yann didn’t like this kind of action: he participated twice in his career, and each time, there had been wounded in both camps. Near the Kleber Avenue, Thomas d’Aquin, one of Yann’s office neighbors, exclaimed: - Look at this mess! You have to see to believe it! (Author's note: luckily he was there and witnessed the scene if it would not have grown!) Indeed, the bazaar was huge. “Bazaar” was even a very poor word to describe the situation. The rioters were destroying shop windows, cars and bourgeois walking on the pavement. Faced with the arrival of SRC, they were not deflated, had overturned vehicles to erect barricades and were out the heavy artillery. They had dropped their bloodthirsty on bystanders and police pooches. They were equipped with protective masks against gas and some even had automatic weapons! Cops clash with their shields and batons, did not weigh very heavy... That's why the inspectors had been called to rescue. How to act without bloodshed in such a case? Santini urged them to surrender unconditionally while mooing in a megaphone. The rioters had nothing to do with him. They sniped like madmen on every moving thing. The cops protected themselves foremost and also tried to evacuate all bystanders caught in the storm. The order to fire was not given but for how much time? 20

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Yann understood the tactics of his chief: to protect people, to park the rioters in a quarantine area and to let them empty their loaders on surrounding already damaged cars. He would prefer hundreds of thousands euros breakage rather than dead young people that the press would seize, introducing one more time the police as the satanic right arm of a totalitarian state. The problem was that these buggers’ morons had brought reserves. Incident of coordination or policies war, the chief of SRC ordered to fire with plastic bullets, to gun dogs and to assault thugs. Santini did not want to follow this imbecility. It was carnage. Despite their bulletproof vests, some uniformed policemen were badly hit by projectiles or deeply bitten by dogs. As soon as there was the first dead guy, rioters immediately surrendered. Just before the end of fights, Yann was a direct witness of an incredible scene: a policeman was thrown fifty meters back. It was like the result of weapon made to stop a tank. Looking into the alignment of the victim, he saw a blond boy with freckles on his face, prostrated, knees on the ground, holding his head with both hands and screaming like a mad. Risking his life, while some shots were heard again, sporadically, the inspector Delaunay rushed to the cop down. Five cops were lying. All were wounded at the arms and the legs. One was shot in the head and seemed dead. By the side of the rioters, there were at least twenty inert bodies and at least as that wriggled violently because of injuries. Yann’s policeman did not flinch an inch. He lay on his back. He should have been shot in the chest, head or limbs. As incredible as it seemed, he had no apparent injuries. The inspector checked the pulse of the man: it was beating but very weakly. He was dying. - Call a doctor! Quick! Cops swooped on the bellicose support like a swarm of legionnaires on a herd of goats (Author's note: imagine the most interesting scene…). The handcuffs opened and closed on countless wrists. Yann rushed directly on the blond teenager and slapped his body facing down. He proceeded to rapid palpation to ensure he did not conceal a knife or gun. He returned arms back rudely and handcuffed wrists. He did the same with the ankles because the birds caught in the police nets never yielded to escape with hands tied behind their backs. He asked the peacekeepers who boarded the first prisoners in the paddy wagons: - I'm Inspector Delaunay and this one is my private property! - OK, Inspector, a man in uniform nodded. - I’m nobody’s property, shit bastard cop! The young person yelled. Yann came a little too close and received a spit on his visage. As a response, he grabbed his personal defense bomb and sent a squirt in the teeth of the kid. - Hey! With my thanks, moron! Like this, you won’t do the clown. Well, speaking about “Clown”, I’ve got a special treatment for you, buddy. You will not be disappointed.

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The inspector stuck him in the trunk of the break because front and rear seats were occupied. This guy was no worth than that. Yann truly believed that society could never get back on the right track this kind of young man. It was too late. Yann and his colleagues left the avenue after a couple of hours, time to gather some evidences, to collect weapons and other exhibits. The evacuation of wounded people, the departure of vehicles for garages approved by the insurance companies, the reordering of the avenue, all this took other hours. The scars of the civil war were not erased for several weeks. * ** As the day was marred by this rare event, Yann had decided to spend as much time it would be useful to relate the strange phenomenon he had attended. Foul on the battlefield, the thug apprentice had closed himself like an oyster when 36, Goldsmiths’ Dock was reached. Thomas d’Aquin began by asking him the ritual identity questions. The accused boy remained silent. Facing the furious silence, Thomas had abandoned, fearing somewhat to get upset over the prisoner. He entered in Yann’s office. - Yann... Listen, there is nothing to learn, your wanker! He is silent! He had no weapons and is probably underage. If none of the seized weapons bears his fingerprints, you will be forced to release him. We have a video given by journalists. We see him in the movie. He doesn’t take part to destruction; he has no weapon in his hands at any time. It is totally passive while others are active. It is also curious! It's like he didn’t belong to the gang... What do you have against him? - I witnessed a supernatural fact and I'll ask for an explanation because he also witnessed the phenomenon. - Ah ... A special case in the middle of a trivial matter, somehow? - Correct! Bring him to my office! Thomas d’Aquin didn’t need to wait to let the poisoned gift. Anyway, he was convinced the young would be free tomorrow, or even tonight with any luck. The video showed he was the only band member to have nothing to be ashamed of, except he was on site at the time. Ultimately, if he pleaded the hazardous presence, the police could not prove otherwise. - Sit down! Yann ordered. I'll explain how it's going to happen between us. We have the proof on a video tape that you shot nobody, that you do not possess a weapon, you do not have used a gun, that you did not come to any degradation nor any physical aggression. - What am I doing here, then? If I tell you I was there by chance, you'll have to let me go. - That's right! I really want to go home, to see my family and have some rest after all the excitement. But I don’t intend. I'll spend the night with you if necessary. And then tomorrow, and tomorrow if necessary.

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- Why? You have no right to keep me more than forty-eight hours without charge. More, I’m not adult. - Minor, yes. But you are more than thirteen years old; I put my hand to cut. That means the reformatory for you. Believe me: this is worth a very pretty widely average jail. - You need a concrete ground to send me in a reformatory! - Exactly! You do not seem to know who I am... - Inspector Delaunay. It’s written on your plate, fool! - Yeah! I see you can read! Kids like you often have problems to read. I give you a clue, dude: I have a specialty within this unit. I deal with unusual cases of supernatural phenomena. Upon hearing the "supernatural" word, the face of the teenager suddenly darkened. - Supernatural? He asked with a more confidential voice. - You perfectly understood. - What do I have to do with it? - It’s up to you to explain. - I don’t know. - A SRC member, projected fifteen meters back without impacting projectile, now comatose. In front, a teenager mysteriously prostrated, holding his head between his hands as if the environment was a threat, aggression and defending himself in a strange way. - You joke! - I knew a little of that answer! Do you remember I told you that you would do less the clown, now? Well, I'll reveal to you the reason for this remark. We also have attack dogs. No pit bull or Rottweiler breeds but also friendly dogs. A policeman trains some. - So what? - There's one dog I like: it's called Clown, precisely. I'll introduce you. Face to face, are you OK? I leave you in the cage with the dog, until you give me your identity or until you have been eaten. I saw Clown at work, it's awesome! - I don’t care! - Really? So here we go! The poor thing did not have to enter a pimply teenager for at least fifteen days. Come on! Convinced that the young boy will deflate in less than two seconds, Yann drew in a building where the guard elements (masters and dogs) were collected. They arrived in the dogs’ paddock. Animals, mostly German Shepherds or Labradors sniffing drugs were together. Only a Belgian Shepherd remained apart in an individual cage. - Do you always want to get into the cage? - No problem. Yann tried to unlock the door but it was not an easily achievable thing since Clown, which was not funny, threw itself on the door, foaming like a rabid swarm of snails.

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- I forgot to tell you something. Clown was discharged from the army when he was only seven months old. He bit everyone. Here, only the boss of dog handlers managed to dominate it. And not always... This dog has a military card: it is allowed to kill. In other words, it eats you and your parents will not have the right to complain. They can only recognize your leftovers. Finally, the last detail: the dog behavior is due to one simple reason: it has Down syndrome. - What? - Down Syndrome. Its brain doesn’t work like other dogs. It has a problem of frequency, this mutt! It's a real crazy! - OK! My name is Loic Torellec and I live at Mantes la Jolie. - You don’t come from Argenteuil? - No. - What were you doing with them? - They say I'm a nice guy and I'm lucky. I ... I do not have any buddy and they are the only ones who were willing to adopt me. - You, a lucky charm? - Yeah ... When I'm with them, they win their fights. - You were not a lucky charm, today! - They were crazy ... They wanted to smash some bourgeois. There are limits to chance! - As you say... Yann thought aloud, thinking it was time to let the Big House before getting a bullet in the body. A deal was a deal: he had to free the teenager. He kept his identity, he immediately checked. The kid was barely fifteen and a resume to rival Arsene Lupin. He was caught several times with members of the Argenteuil gang. More interestingly, he was busted for copying and piracy of software. This kid was not fatal but surely too impressionable. Exhausted, Yann bartered the panoply of cop against the panoply of good father, the tumult of the riots against the cries of twins. It was nearly twenty o’clock and poor Juliette had assumed all tasks alone one more time. He wanted to do his part until Sunday, the day of the baptism of the two children with insatiable appetite (Author's note: I failed to mention that the two kilos shrimps caught up gleefully with Juliette’s milk!). * ** Marmosets had been generously sprinkled with holy water. Considering the dose inflicted by the priest as talkative as a magpie, they enjoyed a corrosion warranty of at least one hundred and twenty years! Childhood diseases wouldn’t pass by them, their bones would withstand several pilot seat ejections (Their grandfather Delaunay was sure of it) and their place in the kingdom of God was already booked! Anyway, with the mentors they inherited, they had all the trumps. Gwenael was rated Miss Sarbacane, Marius was under the protection of the divine Marie Curry, back in France. In the small dining room, Juliette and Yann had managed to cram the future political couple Romain and Marie, General Delaunay and his wife Lucie, Jacqueline Auriol (Juliette’s mother), Alexa, and Santini, (Yann’s boss), now mandatory for all 24

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participating family events of Delaunay family. To this extraordinary characters crew had been added a regular guest list (whose Yves, elder Yann’s brother, and his wife Virginie), neighbors, friends who shall remain nameless and will avoid describing how to restore the giant buffet so as not to complicate the story, or to disgust readers (Author's note: sum up, they eat badly, without a fork, by giving big pats on the back to wipe greasy fingers, they scratching their nose and then they eat again, they swallow toasts with “foie gras” and with pickles getting drunk with Pomerol! Only bad habits! So I avoid lying down on the subject for readers who have lunch after reading). Marie Curry wore a wonderful scarlet uniform. Miss Sarbacane had found in Marie more than a fervent admirer of style: a true muse! She radiated more happiness since she had started a life together with the Latin Lover of her dreams (Author's note: Romain Latin, Latin Lover ... Do you imagine such words games at one o’clock in the night when I’m writing? Yes! Ten years of training to achieve such a result! Only training pays!). The both young women had fallen into the arms of each other. Alexa had heartily thanked her dear Yann for choosing an “alter ego” as godmother as flamboyant as she was and was really delighted with this surprise. Romain couldn’t help to drop a few spicy remarks to verify if Alexa always had the same spread. - Miss Sarbacane! How are you? - Fine. - Do you enjoy your piloting lessons? - Do you want to take my glass of champagne in the face? - No... I'm just asking about your ability to fly an aircraft. - Any aircraft would go to the seventh heaven as long as I'll touch its controls. - Hmm ... The politician blushed, finding that the detective dragged on a slippery slope. - Marie, you need pay attention to your companion. He seems to doubt my ability to hold a stick in the hands. Roman became downright red tomato. He had sought the fight, he would reap the war. He realized when he saw the clairvoyant detective close her eyes and focus to discover a crispy anecdote. - Dear Romain, I'm probably not good for piloting but, when you drive my girlfriend Marie, you should avoid fueling with champagne. You're not shining under the influence of alcohol. You see what I mean? She said, withdrawing his flute of sparkling and bubbly liquid. - You won by KO, he merely replied. - Who is defeated? Yann asked, encrusted some minutes in spontaneous conversations started between groups of people. - Romain has been defeated during elections, Alexa added. - Elections? What elections? - The election of the strongest guy. He was yet the only candidate, last night! Marie could not help but giggle, putting her companion more and more uncomfortable. 25

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General Delaunay cut: - If there were elections, although I would vote for someone who will rid us of thugs who ransacked Kleber Avenue. This is an outrage to see as reprehensible acts take place during the day in Paris! - I know it. I was there... All were taken aback by Yann (Author's note: I don’t understand. Yann doesn’t look like a thug even if he has swapped his Inspector Gadget raincoat against a leather jacket! I have to catch up with my blunder ...). In fact, given the new paternal responsibilities of the inspector, the assistance estimated that battlefield as the Kleber Avenue was not an ideal place for walking. All participants condemned his participation except one person (Author's note: you guess who?). The father was in a dangerous situation. Juliette was angry because her husband was careful to boast that "exploit". She longed to pull his ears, but Alexa started hostilities first: - Not bad for a guy who wants to leave his job! - How do you know it? Yann asked. You still used clairvoyance? - No, my dear Yann! Only avoid answering anonymous ads if you don’t want it to be known! - Shh! Yann said deep in the ear of his forever partner. Santini could hear. - He'll know, right? - Of course! I wanted to write my resignation letter when we were aware of the operation. - You are at this point? You have another job in your pocket? - No, I have nothing specific. But as sooner I give my resignation, as sooner I won’t face these fanatic riots. Thus, the anonymous announcement, it was you? - Exactly! - So you are looking for an assistant? I'm your man! - Alas no, my friend! - No? Did you find better? - No. Yann, you are more useful as a policeman. I’m sad that you want to leave police. I understand: it's dangerous. I must speak to someone else to raise topics of interest. To Santini, perhaps? - Maybe... As for me, since you do not want me... - Don’t make such a face and don’t use that voice! I'm not looking for an assistant, Yann. You are my partner, my friend; I don’t want to combine with another function. You see? I rather seek a disciple. A person with similar gifts, I could guide somehow. Are you clairvoyant? - No, much less than you! - You don’t know who is able to be clairvoyant among your relationships? - Well... I may surprise you, perhaps? - Really? Like what? - In fact, I arrested a teenager yesterday. His name is Loic Torellec. - One of your riots? - Yes and no. He was in the gang but did nothing. Apparently. 26

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- In appearance? I feel a case I like. Too bad I have another one! - Really? This is unfortunate indeed! What case? Deception? Spying? Betraying? - No. I can’t speak of that case because police is involved in the affair. It may hide facts. Suddenly, Alexa’s wristwatch began to peal like Quasimodo swung down the rope maneuvering the bells of Notre Dame de Paris. She looked at the screen. Her guardian angel. He advised her to entrust Yann. - Hey! A message from beyond? - Exactly! He told me to tell you about my business! - Let’s go! Tell me all, Miss. - Okay! I have a new customer. His son died supposedly of an aneurysm during a fight but his father thinks he did not die naturally. - And? - And that's it! He was part of a gang of young hooligans, and during a battle against those of Argenteuil, he died. The trouble is that there would be no fighting. No shot but three people of Gonesse’s gang died. - Argenteuil? Well, well! My teenager was with devious dudes of Argenteuil. - Hey... Can you check if your guy was in the streets of Argenteuil during the death of Adriano di Mozzarella? - Of course! Miss, I witnessed myself an unexplained phenomenon. A policeman was literally thrown at fifteen meters without any shot. He is between life and death, with a very serious concussion. And that's not all! The kid was not afraid to be enclosed with a dangerous dog, trained to attack and kill. He instilled in. He was ready to enter the cage of the beast until I confess that the mutt had Down syndrome and that its brain was not functioning as the others. From this admission, he wet his pants. Like if he... - Like if he knew he could not act on the mind of the dog. - No? Do you think he is able to achieve such a feat? - Who knows? What I feel about the death of Adriano di Mozzarella pain could be due to a telepathic attack! - Alexa... We swim in the middle of science fiction, there! You can see it only in movies and novels written by Eric Vincent. - Excellent novels! But remember we saw a satanic creature, a guru playing souls, minds and matter, a ghost which had committed a murder. Do you remember? - That's right! We could visit our friend the commuter? - Why not? - I warn you, Miss: it is not in the sixteenth arrondissement of Paris or Neuilly... - I suspected as much. Where does he live? - At Mantes la Jolie. Val Foure area. Don’t try to speak like these inhabitants, Miss! You do not have the look! You'll never do! You're too class! - Oh! It was a true challenge for her. She would do the impossible! She would go in the suburbs and would not be noticed (Author's note: I seriously have doubts about the last statement). 27

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* ** Miss Sarbacane didn’t overlook a case before putting foot on the place. She had gathered much information about the characters before throwing headlong into the lion's den (Author's note: the lion will be happy!). To gather details was a particular mission for the young woman: it was often to collect photos and exercise her gifts on the pictures (Note from the author for camera manufacturers: photography is a French invention and that puts me off when I want to buy a French trademark camera: impossible). She didn’t want to repeat the experience with the portrait of Adriano, because of the pain during the first attempt. Loic Torellec’s anthropometric photography revealed profound changes. He lived with his mother and stepfather with three half-brothers and one sister. He and his sister were considered as scapegoat by the family. That was the reason why he had developed a deep sense of injustice. She read in him some anger and deep hatred of all authority forms. Then, she had taken some information in the college where he did few appearances from time to time: this fifteen-years-old boy repeated his fourth class. He was failing at school but he was not worse than the average student in the district. He now accumulated his second year of delay. The results of his previous year had been disastrous because he missed most of the controls, announced in advance. When the young detective had examined the detailed results, she found he shone in mathematics and physics, despite his numerous absences. The notation came as surprise questions. Moreover, given the scarcity of students when controlling announced in advance, the college chose surprise controlling and multiple choice questions exams to shorten "the pain of the student"! (Author's note: when will we have a Bachelor with multiple choice questions in philosophy? I guess the questions: Rousseau is: a) a book to learn to drive, b) A Creole company song, c) A French writer . Or also in history: In 1431, Joan of Arc was executed. How? a) Burned with fire, b) Killed with an electric chair, c) In fact, she was forgiven by General De Gaulle. Newspapers would not have enough leaves to register students who succeeded: they would just name the idiots who failed)! The teenager was on the bad way to plunge into the small, medium and finally serious crime world. Except a fact: he did not seem involved in atrocities committed by his peers as Miss Sarbacane was able to notice in a copy of the video given by Yann. She got the same story every brawl recorded by the police and involving members of the Argenteuil’s gang. He stood idly against the rampage, paralyzed by fear of shots. A fear rooted in the many beatings he received from his stepfather since the age of five years. He did not know his real father, divorced and disappeared from circulation for nine years. At last, the man was somewhere in Polynesia, “sailing in cushy father on the big pond” (Author's note: it was my homage to Georges Brassens, French poetry singer). The girl was the only joy and the only refuge of the brother. His young ten-years-old sister represented the fragile person to protect. Loic preferred roll with the punches instead to preserve her. He paid a high price for having therefore one of the most disturbed psychological profiles. 28

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After a final verification, Alexa discovered Loic was present the day of Adriano’s death. These aneurysm series phenomena were not a coincidence: every time, the teenager was involved in the gang. Curious detail: the band caused a huge pileup at a crossroads. All other actors of civil wars embryos were sentenced to various punishments but he was acquitted systematically, testimony in support. Dozens of eyes had been petrified in the midst of fighting, unable to defend themselves. In appearance. Yann had scented a big rabbit, Alexa had accepted the mission of Mr. di Mozzarella and her guardian angel blew her the narrow link between the two cases. Now, she should visit Loic Torellec to sound him a little closer. Yann had suggested driving and accompanying her in the seedy area. Alexa had agreed but he should submit to a makeup session and disguise before. She felt that the word "cop" and other common nicknames in these suburbs were inscribed in letters of gold on the front of her dear inspector. The doorbell intercom rang. She closed her eyes for a split second and triggered the opening of the door, without checking the identity of the visitor. She knew he had arrived, punctual as a Swiss clock. - Hi Miss! Are you ready? - No and neither you are. Don’t hope to escape camouflage. - But he knows that I'm a cop! - Of course, he knows! But other residents don’t know. If you want to come out whole, you better obey me! This is worse than Vietnam! She said with a deep hoarse male voice of a famous American. - OK! I won’t discuss more! You suggest and I obey. - The dream of every woman, finally! Good! Give me these clothes and quick, please! I’m paid for result, not on time! Yann twitched frankly discovering the ripped jeans, the "Iron Maiden" tee shirt (Author's note: deafening hard rock group), size 42 rangers shoes and a loop artificial ear clip. He hesitated to undress in front of Alexa. She noticed and laughed: - What are you waiting for? I dressed you with a toggle? Come on! Briefs or boxers, I have seen more! Your little bird will not fly away! He huffed and finally, he complied, death in the soul. He could observe Alexa putting a complete lattice imitating military camouflage on her body. One moment, given the size largely oversized for the template of the detective (Author's note: small, tiny but tough), he thought that his father General Delaunay had given some army surplus. She put a khaki sleeveless T-shirt and splashed her hair with erasable green paint. She added the final touch on her wrists with studded leather bracelets and masked her sumptuous eyes behind khaki green colored lenses to not clash with the rest of the personality. While he endorsed his clown costume, Yann saw his partner going in the kitchen. Discreetly, he leaned forward to spy her. She put half a box of powdered sugar and a little water in a 29

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large bowl. She mixed it hopeless sugar dissolves (Author's note: be careful with dissolutions. Some French presidents have learned it by the hard way!). - Yann! Are you ready? - Yes! He answered with approaching on tiptoe. - Quench your head in the bowl! She ordered. - What? What do you want I do with my head in this bowl? - I'll make you an Iroquois hair cut (Author's note: a hairstyle worn by the Iroquois Indians, straightening the hair on the head wih a beautiful ridge, like the rooster (but less stupid than this asshole bird).) - Oh no! I accept some disguise but there are limits not to cross! - You dip your head or I use Super Glue on you! Unless you'd rather I shave you to look like a "skin head"? - OK! I do it! I dip my hair into your mixture! How to do to get rid? - With a shampoo and hot enough water, like my color! Do not worry! Juliette won’t see you dressed that way, she stated with a smile. She combed him repeatedly until the hair stay in place thanks to dried sugar. Then she decided to leave, believing their clothes made the man. When they were outside, Yann was trying to board his Polo. Miss Sarbacane held him by the arm. - No way to take your vehicle! “Cop” is written above. - I don’t board your antique car! At each stop, I take the radio on my knees, I risk a herniated disc with fucking shock, asphyxiation with your muffler and deaf because of decibels issued by its backfiring engine. - No Beetle today! Everyone knows it, now. - Ah! At least public transport! - I've got something better than that! Let’s see! A loan of Ali Gator. The car of his brother... - What? You're sick, Alexa! This car is rotten, it is full of rust! What is this… thing? - Renault 17 with original engine and body! It’s so original that you can see the road under your feet. Here! Look! Alexa had unlocked the door, opened with a dismal creaking and had verified the presence of various gaps in the chassis. Ali’s brother hid holes with pray rug as a floor mat. The fig leaf! As for the various repairs performed on the car body, it was at least craft: empty tinplate cans were soldered directly and painted with leftover paint. Moreover, the whole car was a patchwork! There were a dozen colors adorning each piece of the car. - I'm not getting in there! Its place is in a scrap yard. Or maybe the museum of… horrors! - Don’t make a fuss! Now, you're a suburbs thug. Nobody will care about you as you drive this beautiful carriage! - Lord... Have some pity for her because she does not know what she's doing, he said, finally accepting to board and to sit on gleaming steed-protected color zebra seat covers!

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Miss Sarbacane broke his last resistance when she forced him to take the wheel covered with sheepskin. The woman was a vile and despicable being facing the bad guy the embodied (Author's note: Let me say that I don’t always write what I think here, it is a sentence of pure composition as I am among those who believe that women should be equal to men (except physically because one meter eighty and ninety pounds for a woman, I don’t want it!)). He had to crank the engine twenty times to get some engine belching. Yann feared it loose in Mantes la Jolie. He should end his days in a bleak suburb with a crazy clairvoyant. * ** In his studded leather jacket, Yann kept one hand on his service weapon, not really reassured. The suburbs, this suburb especially, he did not like too much stay in, even during the day. Loic should have been in college at this hour. It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon. The inspector and Alexa wanted to spend time with his mother in head-to-head. When they had to overcome a barrage of youths and their pit bulls, the hooligans’ apprentices were not very proud. But overjoyed, their disguises worked perfectly. Even though hounds trained to peck people wearing uniforms had not smelled these easy preys. Once arrived in the building, they had to climb five flights of stairs because the elevator was down. They complained greatly the twelfth floor residents. Chronic failures transformed shopping in a true ordeal. Yann pushed the doorbell. In return, he heard a bark. Not from a fighting dog but from a true shrew. A woman in bathrobe opened and sent her brown cigarette without filter smoke in the faces. - What? She hollered. (Author's note: I hesitated to use the verb “to moo”) The trollop looked like a female nightmare: not graceful, curlers in hair, long nails, whose grimy varnish was peeling in many places like the owner whose expiry date was quite advanced. With such a bathrobe, she still clashed more with pink wig mules she was luging on the linoleum. - We would like to see Loic Torellec. - It is not there! I would say that you went! Good evening! Yann interjected one of his rangers to prevent the front door closing. Then he showed his tricolor card under the nose of the rude. - I’m insisting. - You got a warrant? - Warrants are seen only in U.S. detective series! - Really? - Yes! In France, things happen in two ways. We kindly invite you at home or we invite you at the Police station. It is up to you. 31

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- And who is she? - Detective Alexa Sarbacane. She put her license under the nose of this woman parody. - What? Alexa Sarbacane who went into space? Who landed a plane on its belly? - This one. - What do you want to my son? In what mess is he filled? Was he at Kleber Avenue with those from Argenteuil? He always lug with these thugs! - Can we come in? - Do like you want, I don’t have any choice! Upon entering the dirty apartment, Miss Sarbacane wondered how a seven persons’ family could decently live in a hutch of sixty square meters (Author's note: this is easy, dear Alexa! The husband earns peanuts and the wife drinks all. Moreover, it is time for to stop this injustice because men life expectancy is shorter than women one’s! I'm for gender equality at work (women in the mine, the women at the war front line) and also for disease (testicular and prostate cancer for women too)! Woman at work and man at home). The mess in the apartment was more like in a squat than a Barbara Cartland’s candy flat. The ceiling and tapestries were the trunk, enjoying little excess moisture due to permanent perpetual ventilation failure. Nothing was repaired in the home or in public areas. Here, almost all tenants were registered as unemployed (and hoping not to find a job) and do not pay the costs necessary for routine maintenance. This explained it. Miss Sarbacane discovered the dining room: the old sofa was stained in several places, including cigarette burn marks. On the table, glass hanging, filled with a liquid leaving no doubt about its content as the whiskey bottle was initiated next (Author's note: the Evin law forces to say that alcohol abuse impairs vision in the toilet because after a liter of AngloSaxon drink, we take the wool over our eyes!). A little shimmer vision. Alexa asked: - Can I see Loic’s bedroom? - If you want, the grumpy answered. Alexa let Yann with Loic’s mother. She felt he would ask some usual questions, mundane in series to give her enough time to browse and soak up the scene. She wanted to feel the life of the kid through the emotions stored in the walls. It was filled beyond her expectations. Instinctively, she knew in what room the teenager spent most of his time when not wandering the streets. She felt pain, hatred as she approached the room devoted to Loic and his sister. She opened the door and saw a girl with big black eyes, almost transparent skin and bones visible as she curled rickets. She was not fed enough or was poorly nourished by her parents. Closing her eyes for a split second, she knew there was a bit of both. - Hello! The small girl said, little startled by the introduction of a foreign person in her world. - Hello... What’s your name? 32

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- Tiphaine. And you? - Alexa. - LikeAlexa Sarbacane? - Yes, it's me. - Really? You're disguised. - Yes. I like! And you? Do you like to dress? - I love disguises. I need it. Miss Sarbacane was intrigued by the tone of this sentence. Why did this girl use the verb "to need" She let the silence settle voluntarily. She wanted to see if the child will have to trust herself. After five seconds, Tiphaine broke the truce words to evoke a cold sore. - Do you use disguise when you're afraid? - Yes. Sometimes, if I'm not dressed, my life may be in danger. - Are you in danger now? - Yes. People don’t like too much the police, here. - You're not a cop, you're a detective. - But my partner is a policeman and he has got the look. He is with your mom. - He might get bored quick. - Why? - Except insults, especially when she drank, she has no vocabulary. - And you never pronounce bad words? - Not too much... - And at school, how does it function? Do you good grades? - I am the best of my class. - Wow! Great! I was not the first, y ou know (Author's note: I can reassure Alexa’s fans: she was the first in many other areas, including generosity, kindness with fans, elegance, disguises, jams, grated carrots but keeps her red convertible Beetle, although today she did an exception by climbing aboard a Renault 17!) - Really? And how do you do to solve your investigations? - I have special gifts. - You see the future? The young woman felt that questions and answers were not organized in the sense she expected. This charming girl was pretty darn smart. Gifted, perhaps. She operated under her intellectual capacity in disadvantaged areas. Outside this family, whose mother did not give an example to follow (and only God knew what the stepfather and his three offspring looked like), Tiphaine would surely have joined a specialized class for young gifted. - Sometimes... - My future is dark and short, the child said, sure of her words.

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This speech frightened the detective. How this ten-years-old girl could speak of her own death like this? How could she manage to project into the future and be sure of its uncertainty and brevity? - Tiphaine, the future likes often to play us a trick… - Especially when the providence is acting! A young male voice interjected behind Miss Sarbacane. The woman suddenly turned, startled. It was Loic. She had not felt his coming. When she met his dark eyes, black as a moonless night, she shivered. His grave face didn’t show the slightest smile. He relaxed when he plunged his eyes into his sister’s ones. Tiphaine rushed on his neck and kissed him on the cheek. He returned her affectionate kisses. He loved his sister to an unimaginable degree. Alexa knew it inevitably would be a problem. He never would separate her more than a few hours for fear of finding out sobbing, beaten by the mother, stepfather or one of three half-brothers. She should deal with ever-present axiom. - Hi Loic! Do you know me? - I know you. - Okay. No need to introduce myself. It’s time to get serious. What do you call providence? - Providence is when all hope is lost and at the last moment, a light appears in the fog. - Beautiful theoretical definition! - Do you want an example? - Why not? - Providence is when you will die in a few days, because of a sudden illness. And a human being, devoid of interest, is giving his life to save yours. - A good summary of stories you’ve read in the press. Loic paused and resumed with cynicism : - What do you feel when you see a beloved being sitting on a pine chair, dead for giving his life? What do you feel when you hear his voice from the beyond? And when you see him again one day between two worlds, before he left forever? - Pain, Loic. As we can experience when we would know his father, who left us for another world... As you might want to revenge hurtful beings while hoping them dead. - I did not kill anyone! - I don’t blame you. I never killed either, Loic. However, he died. I’m the reason for his death. It's me. Somehow, I killed him without being aware or responsible. This is called an accident when we have no control of the wheels resulting in the destruction of a living being. - Tiphaine... Leave the room, please! Loic ordered. - Tiphaine… Stay with us. She can hear what I have to say. Your sister is tremendously smart, like you, and can understand what I'll explain. - Really? Me? Intelligent? You didn’t see my grades! Only bad results! - You disappoint me, Loic! If you really knew me, you would know I investigated before I met you. Good results for surprise controls prove you possess some talent. 34

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- Is it the badger cop who put you on my track? - Not just him! It is a valuable aid in my research but I’m aware of your existence with a parallel manner. - Really? In fact, your cop, you'd better enjoy him! - For what reason? - He wants to leave police. He’s afraid since he has got twins. - How did you get knowledge of facts known only by him and myself? - I read in the press that he had been shot by a kid who wanted to kill Santas (Author's note: see “The Christmas father is dead”). He had spent seven bulletproof vests to protect himself. You see, just read the newspaper. - It's true. In this case, you'll give me the name of the newspaper you read he had two kids. - Yes! I'll mouth corner, huh? In the “Parisian” 5th August births announcement: Juliette and Yann Delaunay have joy and happiness to share with you the birth of their unexpected twins Marius and Gwenael. The mother is well and dad is better. - What a memory! Congratulations! It's funny... Why did they write that Dad was better? - He fainted when he saw they were twins! - I know it. But you? How? I would be surprised that you are sufficiently intimate with my partner so that he made this confidence! How do you know? - I ... I don’t know! He exclaimed, vexed by having been caught out. - I can give you an explanation, if you want... - I'd be curious to hear your perspective! - You have the ability to read or guess the thoughts of people around you. - Telepathy? It's bullshit! - Really? I would go even further! I believe you possess the gift of manipulating brain waves. This is a little gift or unchecked, which explains your doubts and unconsciousness for your actions. - My actions? What actions? - The deaths from aneurysm rupture in many fights. The death of Adriano di Mozzarella, for example. - That's impossible! Cut the crap immediately or... - Or what? You're going to upset you in silence, inside, feeling a mixture of fear and hatred that will release one way or another? You'll wish that I constantly accuse you of facts can be verified that could send you to jail for twenty years, to separate you from your little sister would be delivered to the hits of your mother, abuse of your half-brothers ? - No! The teenager yelled. - Are you afraid to release your anger? To cause death? Who says I cannot resist? - No! Alexa heard the mother’s protest. Yann prevented to interrupt the dangerous game undertaken with Loic. A cat and mouse game. - Are you afraid to hurt your sister? The social services will come stick their nose in the family and discover that you take some beats at his place! You know that this institution will put you in separate homes! You know it! You know I'm clairvoyant and I tell you your 35

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future! Your sister is going to die under the blows when you're going in a home because they will enjoy! Because I prove hast killed all! You're going to take twenty years jail punishment! Twenty long years without seeing your sister! - No! He huffed with a dull anger. He glanced a deep darkness to the young woman. Alexa felt her brain exploding under the violence of the cashed impact. She fingered really a hit and was sent against the bedroom wall. Loic was not content to leave his anger and fell on his knees, prostrated, as Yann had narrated to her. He extended the look in Alex’s eyes, green of fear. He stared fatally. His mind was pounding the detective with many blows like Mike Tyson eager to prove he was still world champion after two years of jail. It was the rage of those who wanted to end now that every being in the world, even a clairvoyant detective, does not take his little sister, his only link with the damn planet which did not want him. - Stop Loic! Thiphaine shouted. You'll kill her! The desperate cry of the girl acts as a shock. He suddenly pressed the "Off" button to produce the central nervous energy, pulses or waves, he did not know very well. Miss Sarbacane was on the bed, lifeless. A trickle of blood escaped from her mouth, another ran from her left ear. The boy was shuddering. When Yann and his mother entered the room, he offered them an understanding face of terror. He bumped into fleeing. His mother tried to stop him by insulting copiously but the inspector Delaunay ordered to let it down and call emergency. He took the pulse of the young woman. He beat slightly. He felt a breath, as a timeout. But it was not Alexa. It was... something else. Like if... an invisible angel had exhausted and had breathed a sigh. Strange feeling... * ** Back to the beginning. Yann played the visitor at the Louis Mourrier hospital of Colombes. Miss Sarbacane was transported first in Mantes la Jolie hospital. As soon she was restored, Yann had requested a transfer at Colombes, near she lived where. She was kept under observation for a week. Officially, some vessels had burst in her brain. What doctors did not understand was how gaps were reported in the ear and in the palace. Gaps have avoided internal bleeding remaining problematic. It was a miracle! One more... that he accomplished. Yann was convinced he had read a sentence of the angel on Alexa’s wristwatch:

" Phew! She was close! This kid is strong !" She had played a dangerous game and had nearly lost her life to prove that Loic possessed a special power with an unexpected extent. Now he could not be found. Since the famous day, he had not reappeared. The eve after the incident, his sister had also disappeared. She was lying in bed at nine o'clock. The next day, the bed was empty. A bag, clothing and business

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toilets had been stolen. No coins, checks or credit card, no money in the wallet had been stolen. They lasted for one week and only God knew how. Yann came with flowers. Yellow wallflowers, symbol of fidelity. Faithful in love, loyal friendship too. Every day, he went to the bedside of the young woman and had attended her speedy recovery. This luck, she knew, was not one. He had interposed to divert most of the attack. Yann was anything but a fool and the fateful question came, of course: - Tell me, Alexa! Did you prepare all this or did you improvise? - I planned everything, except one detail. - Which one? - The violence of the attack. It was worse than anything I could have imagined... she dropped with a suggestive tone. She thought she had seen death a second time very close (Author's note: Alexa counts this time and the time she was sick. The rest of the list, namely confronting an evil villain, chasing a Santa killer, risking her life to fight against a remote guru, undergoing a meteor shower in space, defusing a bomb and landing a plane, that was nothing invented by an author whom life is too quiet. Now she will fight more, she will become a war machine able to be invisible and to destroy everything. No, I confuse with Rambo! I should stop coffee and cognac). A similar feeling like a dip in boiling acid bath and like been bright peeled bright Loic was able to produce death using his brain waves as many shots. Could he act on something else with his mind? Maybe... Yann said they caused a pileup. Traffic lights were suddenly unhinged. But since Ali Gator’s explanations, the detective knew that the fragile electronic lights wavered on a system of flashing orange when any abnormality was detected. According to the Egyptian, kids could have opened the control box, hoping to sow discord, they would have caused a failure and therefore the activation of the emergency system. However, many witnesses had come forward to say that the signal was turned green so perfectly synchronized to a crossroads with six channels. Perfect timing meant that the program was changed. Either Loic was gifted in electronics (which was not impossible, because of his resourcefulness to disappear with his sister without giving any sign of life for a whole week, nose and beard of the authorities.) Or he manipulated “remotely” the system acting on the electric wave of devices like the brain waves. A rather frightening possibility when she thought to the numerous sources of waves existing in this world. - So, Yann imagined, you thought to provoke him? - Yes. - You thought to lose? - Yes. - You assumed you wouldn’t go back into your house? - Yes. I see what you mean… - So you knew I could not board with you to get my clothes, thinking too late that you possessed the apartment keys, hidden in your mesh stored in the closet of your hospital bedroom? 37

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- Yes. - What did you think about when you said Juliette would never see me with this disguise, Miss Sarbacane? - I thought about her face when she would see you! She burst out laughing. - Oh, that's clever! You know I’ll revenge? I don’t know how but I will! Someone knocked at the door. Alexa invited to come. A young woman entered the room with a sumptuous and abundant floral composition. She laid on the wide windowsill and handed an envelope to the patient sitting in bed. Alexa quickly tore the envelope and read some words written in neat handwriting: "All my wishes for a speedy recovery. Sincerely." - Wait! - Yes? - Who sent me these flowers? The card is not signed. - I don’t know. A gentleman called and bought the most beautiful bouquet. I put the text he dictated. - He paid the bill, the unknown person? - The bill was drawn up on behalf of a company. - Which one? - The “Noulair” shoes. Thus, this beautiful and fragrant gift came from Marco Roni di Mozzarella. - Thank you! Alexa released the florist. - Yann... Who is aware of my hospitalization? - Me, Juliette, Santini, Torellec’s mother. Maybe Loic himself! - That's all? - No. I went to your office for your mail and I met one of your customers. Macaroni I do not know what... - Marco Roni di Mozzarella. - That's him. - Yes. - He works for “Noulair” shoes? - It is the founder. - Beautiful fortune! However, money does not buy happiness. What at the time of the facts, the money, he did not have that much. - What facts? - You don’t know his wife died? - I know. 38

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- Do you know the circumstances? - I just know he is a widower. - OK. He was driving when he overtook a truck. And another one came in front of him. Not to smack into, he kicked brake and skidded off the road. He ended his race in a tree. He crashed on the passenger side... He escaped with a broken leg and bruises. A miracle for him. His wife was not so lucky. She was instantly killed. - How do you know this story? - I work on my files, Miss Sarbacane. In my future job, I must pay attention to details. I train today. - I see... You still decided to leave the police? - Always! My resignation left this morning with a receipt. It's funny. This is the first time of my life I'm going to receive a receipt. Alexa was amused by this simple word game invented by the author, and placed in the mouth of her partner. A words game as he would have liked. Since she had recovered her wits, she had not stopped to thank him for having spared again the one way trip. As a friend, he was amazing. As novice guardian angel, he acted as a leader. He deserved to enter in the Michelin top angels books directly with three stars. - I hope you’ll enjoy your new job and you bring me some juicy business. - It is possible and I think insurers will be more generous than the National Police for fee. - Ah! Money! Alexa said, staring her blue eyes (Author's note: try to imagine the scene with risk of blindness endured by inspector Delaunay!). - Well… About money... - Sorry! I have nothing with me! - No, I did not want to take you some money. - Oh! And if you talk about the heritage, know that I have almost nothing to bequeath! Besides my legendary Beetle,. My car will return to you or will be sacrificed with me if nobody wants it. You won’t have a radish. - Miss... When will you be serious? - I'm serious! You will not get a penny! I leave all my assets to lightning leukemia research. It’s for him , right? - I understand your point of view. I only would like to know the method used by the Torellec kids to get by without sorrel. These sly foxes drive me crazy. Could you help us to catch them? - I'm afraid I can’t. - Shit! Sorry, I mean, damn! Did you lose your powers? - No, I just almost lost my life. I still have my powers, but... I would do better with my Vidal, it would be easier. With my favorite medium and a little quiet, I promise to work on the subject. - I go to your home and I take your book. Are the keys always in the lattice? - Affirmative, sir! - Stop it! You speak like my father.

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- Hey hey! Come on! Be wise with Juliette. When you kidding both, you get duplicate results. Warning... Next time, you could end up with triplets or quadruplets on the arms! - Oh? Do you really think? - Fetch me my Vidal and I'll tell you! - No... You would be able to lie to drive me crazy. - I'm flattered! You discover me finally! He placed a quick kiss on the forehead of his teammate and let to her thoughts. She thought a lot. For an unruly and dangerous teenager, despite himself. She nevitably remembered the plot of “Star Wars” where the Jedi Master wanted to train a young filled with anger and hatred, one who would become the dreaded Darth Vader, leaving death in his wake. Was it the same way? Would he topple to the dark side and use his gifts to serve evil, incarnate evil, to... kill? This thought made her shiver. He could become aware of his strengths and fail to use the right way. It could be a failure on the line. She was tired; she slipped into bed. Before closing her eyes (the cause of fans sadness), she read a last time Marco Roni di Mozzarella’s card. An anonymous but nice touch. * ** The secretary called him on his private line aboard the Falcon flying over Italy. He was piloting himself, not letting this pleasure to another person. He took with him twelve most representative footwear largest distributors to visit one of production sites located at Naples. Among the guests there were shoes and slippers buyers of the three largest French hypermarket groups. The responsible of Beatyour shoes women's line also took part to the trip. He always presented his function in this order but Andre Eram (his full name) was more cited as the responsible of Beatyour woman (Author’s note: Beat your woman! Of course, it’s only a play of words, this is not an incentive! The first guy who beats his wife, will take my fist on the face, my foot too (front or back, your choice), will be excommunicated (ie he has no right to read my productions) and will be severely condemned (One holidays week with one of my ex-wives!)). The communication came directly into his light helmet allowing him to converse with the air traffic controllers (Author's note: Did you already see traffic controllers in the sky? I never saw some and I know what I mean, I yet piloted). It also allowed him to hear ambient conversations and turbo whistling. He had acute hearing and was able to say, if motors were OK or not. In short, controlling his aircraft, Marco had a lot of pleasure. - Sir? - I can hear loud and clear, Sylvie. What’s up? - A call for you, sir. - Professional or private? - Both, the young woman replied. - Ah! I see! I’ll answer the call. Hello? Miss Sarbacane? 40

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- Signore di Mozzarella? - Himself! - Thank you very much for the flowers. - It was sent anonymously! - It was a sending to a clairvoyant detective, sir. - You are right... I'm an idiot to have believed this secret would live long. - That's very kind. - Do you feel better? - Much better! I also think I have solved the riddle. I'll talk to you when you return. It will not be easy to hear, I warn you. - You know... I lost my wife and my son... Nothing can give me more emotion. - OK. See you soon. Ciao! - Ciao! He spontaneously answered. In herself, Miss Sarbacane couldn’t help adding: "There is perhaps much more emotion you believe it. You sent me flowers when you knew I was in bad shape, dude. This behavior has a name: Sensitivity" She smiled. She managed to soften the stony heart of the beautiful Alpine. She smiled less to play a guessing game to trace Loic and Tiphaine Torellec. Catching some runaways was usually a breeze. She used maps and let the warmth invade her when reaching the point of rendezvous on paper rolls. There, though her gifts are operational (she had tested repeatedly with the greedy hospital staff about the person, their family, the last little bit through the husband, mother-and even goldfish!) The alarm bell was silent, even raking tight. They had still not flown like... like... She didn’t dare to pronounce the name of her lost love. - Damn! Inspector Delaunay shouted. We set up roadblocks in every direction; their portraits are broadcasted on television channels and newspapers. We have not touched any witness. I lose my Latin. - You never studied this dead language! - Exactly! I don’t understand! Did they evaporate? Are you sure they are not dead? - I'm sure. Even dead, I would find them. There is another explanation, I can feel it. - Note... You need a lot of luck to find them if they constantly move. - Obviously, if they move, I play haphazardly. But why would they move? Huh? - To bug you, to prevent you detect them. - Bugging me? I have some doubts, Yann. Nobody in the world wants to bug such a sweet and kind and adorable creature like me. She believed truly what she said. - No... They will not burrow their lives. And if they are hiding somewhere, I find them. Moreover, Loic thinks I'm dead and buried by now. No... They will not hide forever... They

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are smart. They will go far, far away from their mothers and their adopted family. To prevent to meet them again. - Far? Far... Hey... Do you even think to... ? - We are idiots! Of course! - French Polynesia! They had to scramble to catch a flight for Tahiti. I'm sure the kid knows how to find his father. He intends to proceed with the usual introductions. He faces a serious disappointment, don’t you think? - It is possible... Give me a World Atlas! - Here it is. This is too vague! You need more accurate maps! - Shh! Shut up two seconds! Yann accepted the clairvoyant’s demand. According to the known and prowled use, she lowered her eyes empty parasite thoughts. She focused on the sensations transmitted by her gifts. One by one, she explored the major islands of the Polynesian archipelago. No significant change appeared. Without a word, she got up and connected on Internet on a website known by investigators: an international directory able to connect to any national directory site. Hiding her hands, she wrote a secret code to access to another program. The gesture didn’t escape the sharp eyes of the inspector Delaunay. - Hey! This site is not consistent. I understand English and I see you can access the unlisted subscribers! - Correct! - That's not all. What are you typing? - Torellec. Gaetan. - The father? He probably changed his identity, right? - Exactly. This site is able to track a person who changed his identity. - That kind of site should be banned or restricted to the police’s use. - How much do you think my access code cost? - An expensive price. - You are below the truth, Yann. I use it for the second time in my life. - On what occasion did you use it the first time? - To search for a recently disappeared person. Yann didn’t carry on in this dead end. Stephane’s absence was still an open wound. He went on to another point: - Can you imagine what members of Mafia would do with such a site? - No danger! Members who have access to this site don’t know each other. Only founders know and decide to sponsor a candidate after a unanimous vote (Author's note: dear Alexa... No doubt you're doing unanimously!). One day, I received a mysterious thread. An appointment was set. There was nobody, except a sealed envelope with the site code and my passwords. That's it. If you use it badly, your access disappears overnight. - How did you get the details of operation if you do not have encountered? - A session of personal psychic and presto! 42

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- I see. Here! Your result is here! Gaetan Torellec is known as Hubert Castaing. He lives in Bora Bora. This kid will never find. He does not know what we know! - No matter ... He doesn’t need. - Really? - It will take time but he will probe minds. He knows the age of his father: thirty-nine. He read minds of aged forty men, avoiding the elderly, women, children and the original Polynesians. Finally, it gives few thoughts to flush. These areas are sparsely populated. - And for the money the plane, how did he do it? - He did not fly, Yann. I don’t detect in the archipelago because it didn’t happen. - What? It didn’t it by car or by foot! It would get stuck at the border. - You thought to ports? - By boat? No... Sailing? - Not sure... I'd rather see a powerful outboard to escape all pursuers. - Wait, Miss! You talk about a fifteen-years-old boy, out of school failure, without money, with his sister on his arms, left with few clothes and few luggage. You're not talking about James Bond, or even his little brother. - Loic and Tiphaine are both gifted. I don’t know what place it was, I saw him manipulating a computer. I would not be surprised if I discovered a secret stash at home, a trap door in his room or basement where he hid a laptop, modem, hardware to encode a false credit card. Do not underestimate above, Yann! And if we find him, remember this advice: do not underestimate him. He is cunning, powerful, although he doesn’t control his gifts. - You scare me, Alexa. Forget him! Let him find his father and being rejected. He will return crestfallen, very happy that his mother did not file a complaint! - I am not forcing you to come, Yann. Especially since you're going to make your notice and Santini will not send you there for fifteen days at the expense of the princess. By the way, have you heard something about your letter? - No. I didn’t yet received the acknowledgment of the Ministry of the Interior. It's strange. - Curious, indeed. Good! Now, the big question! - Which one? - What am I going to wear at Bora Bora? Something light? - Miss Sarbacane... You're going to hunt teenage runaway kind Terminator and you care for your wardrobe! You'll never change! - Never. - It’s winter there. - Really? - A thirty Celsius degrees winter! Don’t think too much! Sarong, swimsuit and sunglasses should be OK. The detective opened a huge suitcase and placed her Vidal prominently. Then she poured the contents of a cabinet and sat on the trunk to bend the hinges and to lock the luggage. Inspector was amused by this breathtaking spectacle. He had to convince her that Polynesia was well stocked and had all the trappings against flying and crawling critters Alexa thought discover in the islands. She called the airport to reserve a one way flight to Papeete and Bora Bora hotel. She kissed her dear inspector, put him quickly out and rushed into the next 43

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minute in a yellow taxi (Author's note: I know: only New York taxis are yellow. But in my stories, I can paint cars the color that I want). * ** On the airport rod, Alexa proceeded to quick calculations to determine the position of Loic and Tiphaine. As perfect Britons, they couldn’t have traveled otherwise than by sea. With a G.P.S., a microcomputer and a software including maps, navigate without special knowledge was reachable. However, the mechanics of a ship was a fragile thing and required meticulous maintenance. A journey of several thousand kilometers was dangerous and required technical assistance at all times. Alexa could not get the idea they were lost in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. She started her tablet and consulted a software called Encarta, the gold mine of general knowledge on the planet Earth. There were several ways to get in Polynesia by sea. The first was to cross the Mediterranean, to carry on through the Suez Canal, along the coast to India, dive the Philippines, Australia and reach archipelagos four thousand kilometers of New Zealand. Another solution was to walk along the African coast to Senegal, across the Atlantic to the narrowest point (more than three thousand kilometers anyway) to join Brazil, Argentina follow, round Cape Horn and up to the southern islands. A dangerous journey. Suddenly, Alexa remembered another way: the Panama Canal. Yes, to shorten the time of the crossing, Loic might have opted for this route. From Brittany or any other point on the coast, he went straight to Central America. Once arrived at the Bay of Limon, near from Colon, they would have waited for the night and have crossed the channel along fifty kilometers. With a powerful engine, it was a thirty minutes story. They would cross the Pearl archipelago in the Gulf of Panama. Secondly, no country on their way before reaching Papeete. Damn! At first glance, he had eighteen thousand kilometers to swallow background with virtually no points for supplies, except the French Antilles. Nevertheless, Alexa was convinced that Loic would choose this option, the only unfeasible, because of supplies. Even with additional tanks, he could not sail more than a day or two doing sixty miles an hour. The "cigarettes" and other carved boats were spinning these dangerous speeds. Also equipped this seemed unfeasible, so hard she thought. She closed her eyes and rolled the wand in the virtual ocean displayed on the blue screen. They were somewhere there, advancing toward their goal. Twenty days had passed since her confrontation with Loic. Assuming they left the French coast at the end of the next day, it gave eighteen days of navigation. They certainly did not increase to an average of one hundred but around forty or fifty kilometers an hour. How long was he able to resist sleep? How did he do? How long was he? Ten hours? More? She focused and saw a number: sixteen. She wanted a response and she got an incredible one! Sixteen hours per day! Without Tiphaine’s help, probably. It gave eight hundred kilometers traveled in one day... It meant they could be only three or four thousand kilometers far from their goal! - Driver! Could you speed up, please?

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Miss Sarbacane grew impatient, suddenly aware that she could precede them little. - "Fangio" isn’t written on my forehead! I value my license! - Do not worry! I know a cop who could arrange the blow in case of problems! - OK… he said, seeing two greenbacks bonus. As she was getting used with her new speed, she got a call on her mobile. It reminded her she should stop it before entering in the plane. The number displayed was unknown. She answered. - Yes? - Miss Sarbacane? - Marco? I mean, Mr. di Mozzarella. - Call me Marco, if you want! - No! This is a slip! Excuse me! I always call my customers by their name. You wanted to talk to me? - I took the news. You feel better? - I am perfectly restored. I go fishing some young people. - He whose television and the press talking about? - Yes. - That's him, is not it? This is the young man who caused the death of Adriano. - Yes, involuntarily. - How? - He seems to have paranormal powers and not be able to control, to dominate them. I nearly lost my life in the same way Adriano for trying to push him into a corner. - Do you need to face him again? This is madness, miss! Give up, please! I’ve got the explanations I wanted. I told you I wanted the truth, without seeking revenge. I do not want you to lose your life for my sake. - Do not worry... This will not happen again. I'll get to become my disciple and learn to control himself. I will not die. - I would be remiss if something would happen to you. - No, you should not. You know, the same gesture can have a thousand different consequences. One day you drive, you make an emergency stop and nothing untoward happens. Thousand emergencies, repeated a thousand times, a thousand times successful. Another day, nothing will. Everything goes too fast. The car chosen to be embedded in a tree, right side. If you would have been English, you would be dead. You are a beautiful Italian and you're alive. Think about it, Mr. di Mozzarella. You're young and alive. Do not die with the past... - Miss... How... Ah! It is true! You're not a detective like others. - It’s due to my author. You do not see the colored dress I currently wear. I'll melt into the local population in Papeete. The day my creator will draw me in comics, you will see that I do not lie on the visual attraction generated by my different outfits. - I believe you... Come back safe in perfect health, miss... I would be saddened if you still encounter problems because the mission I have entrusted you. 45

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- Don’t worry. I have a super guardian angel. - Good luck! - Ciao bello! She added, before turning off the phone. He was a true beautiful guy, this dark Italian. Why the hell insisted he to stay single? After all, he was perhaps not. She claimed it. Why? She would have liked it to be. It was easy: she needed a little clairvoyance to see if his heart was taken by a woman. "No! Don’t start to use your gifts for personal use! This is out of question. Forget it! Forget... I cannot... Why? Marco… Miss Sarbacane, you become an artichoke heart... Too late! When I come back, dude, I charm you and I'll shock you like you've never seen it in your life! If you are of Italian macho type, your beautiful dark eyes won’t believe it!" She relaxed herself, almost relieved to have taken this decision. An impregnable citadel, that's what she needed! She hoped he would look like Etna, impetuous and hot Sicilian volcano. If he ever played the mountains of Auvergne, asleep, she would undertake to rekindle the flame. It was still not possible that his heart was dried over time... * ** The first flight was perfect: Paris-Papeete, with a stopover at Los Angeles. The second one, Papeete to Bora Bora, one of the Leeward Islands, about two hundred and fifty kilometers northwest of the capital, was chaotic. First, the plane, an old cuckoo build during the war – the First World War according to Miss Sarbacane’s thoughts - refused to start. By tinkering with the engine, the mechanic driver didn’t screw back the propeller which was skewed and soared after a few laps. He quietly recovered it and gave it up. He told Alexa - color changing by the minute - these trifles would not prevent a takeoff. It occurred at least. But ten minutes before landing, the elevator control system was blocked. Like two idiots, the pilot and his passenger were circling around the Vaitape airfield while the "captain" was bent on this dirt control. After some muscled actions improvised in the sky, he managed to be right with this stupid joystick. Fortunately! Because Alexa had spotted a parachute at the back and was ready to endorse it to escape while abandoning her misfortune’s companion! She felt she gave enough to airline companies. She gave a grass roots price to the pilot because she thought the provision was particularly middle. For a while, the price paid for the trip with Air France between Paris and Papeete seemed cheap (Author's note: that is to say in what state of nervousness our detective was!) After a thirty hours flight, including stopovers, she was as fresh as Ordralphabetix’ fishes, one of Asterix and Obelix characters. She no longer wanted one thing: take a long cool shower (Author's note: with Tahiti shower, of course!) And lie to try to recover sleep chopped in the Boeing 747 (Author's note: I only know this plane with a long battery life and a large capacity. As soon the Airbus A3XX exists, I promise to put in my adventures!). The

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Vahine hotel was located near the beach and was made of small individual bungalows and a common area where meals could be taken. She did not even take the time to admire the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean; once freed from the sweat of the journey, she wrapped herself in a sarong and lay on the two meters large bed. The softness of the mattress, the feel of cotton on the skin, mild temperatures, all contributed to a dazzling sleep. She was unaware that a pair of eyes watched her him through powerful binoculars (Author's note: you don’t know if I add this just to titillate your neurons or if a dramatic will happen in the coming pages or those of a future adventure. Hint: I love to titillate and to imagine twists!). * ** A creperie in Bora Bora! What humor! Gaetan Torellec had been replaced by Hubert Castaing but his Briton origins remained intact. The Plougastel strawberry pancake was now stuffed with coconut, papaya, pineapple and passion fruit. Shrimp, fish and shellfish from the ocean also occupied patties while only one kind of Briton cider fought a duel with a thousand varieties of fruit cocktail and coconut liqueur. Alexa sat down at a table isolated from other customers and neglected to take a look at the map. The landscape was more interesting. The pancake restaurant was built right on the sea, since the tables were arranged under a Tivoli directly installed on a pier jutting out into the ocean. It was 2:00 p.m. local time and so close to 2:00 a.m. Paris time. Despite the winter season, the temperature was mild. A light wind caressed the palm, causing a rustle of their broad leaves. Miss Sarbacane closed her eyes behind her sunglasses, enjoying the mild climate. A feeling of well-being invaded gradually. For a long time, since hers visit in Guyana with Marie Curry, she had not felt so relaxing. She thought she was made to live under the tropics, lulled by the rhythm of the waves, sipping cocktails juice, lying on the beach, sometimes basking under the sun, sometimes under the shade of palm trees, reading an excellent Eric Vincent ‘s novel (Author's note: I have a literary default : pleonasms. I always stick "an excellent novel by Eric Vincent"!), admiring the Tahitians taming the waves balanced on long surfboards. It was not difficult! Any normal person would dream of a framework such as this one. However, she did not really benefit of it: she slept six hours as soon as she arrived at the hotel. She had become aware of the beauty of the site only when she woke up. When she went into the living room, she discovered a giant aquarium under her feet. The glass floor was right on the salt water and the many colorful tame fishes flocked to see the head of the most famous detective whose fame extended even to the world of silence. There she had been shocked to discover her environment. Place conducive to the peace, relaxation and dreams, strongly inspired her. Why did she live near Paris with pollution, dog poop (Author's note: Eric, my friend, do you really think the Tahitian dogs keep their poop in a hole? Finally Tahitians dogs are like Parisian dogs. Maybe fewer? They wear flowers leis?) and the hell of violence? So here, God had stored all the data used to create the paradise. Was she crazy to prefer to reside in Metropolis? After all, she perhaps was more crazy than clairvoyant!

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- Did you choose, Miss? A voice asked. He! He matched the description provided by Loic’s mother. She did not keep photographs of her previous marriage. Besides, she was not a woman to accumulate memories of communal life except memories of drinking (Author's note: I wonder how we can have memories of drinking as a clean drinking aim is not to remember anything!). - Are you Hubert Castaing? - Yes. Why? - You will have a visit soon. A boy and a girl. - Are you fortuneteller? I'm not interested! Alexa raised her sunglasses and adjusted her hair, taking care not to shake the sumptuous golden lock, Tahitian highest peak for the present. Thus, she revealed her turquoise eyes in accordance with the color of the ocean. This gesture had a visible effect on the face of the restaurant owner. He stepped back half a meter under the effect of surprise. - You are ... Alexa Sarbacane? - Herself! - Shit! Are you missioned to track me? - No, mister Torellec. - You know my real name. Damned! - You name is Gaetan Torellec and you had two children: Loic and Tiphaine. You have not seen them since your divorce. - You're well informed for a person who is not looking for me! - I have learned about your son. - Really? Does he go wrong? - Somewhat, yes! He was drawn into gangs of thugs. He lives in a disadvantaged area with a stepfather who spends his time hitting him. He collects shots for his sister he loves above all. - This is disgusting! Gross what this asshole! Excuse my language! I know who lives with my ex-wife. It is a moron! He has no right to touch my kids! - Don’t you think if you didn’t forget your father role, things would be different? - When I told you I knew this asshole, I forgot to say I experienced the lovers decade my exwife had. She thought that high fidelity was a gramophone brand. She didn’t give me any choice. I loved my kids more than anything else. - This is why you never paid any child support? - She would drink it in various alcohols. The kids would not have seen a penny. Anyway, I put some money aside for them. As they become adults, they will receive a windfall to study. - These beautiful words are fine. This is valid for Tiphaine who is a bright schoolgirl but not for Loic who is a finite dunce. Finally, he gives the feeling to be a dunce. - Damn! I would like to talk to him but... it suits me that his mother thinks I'm dead. - You will have the opportunity to talk to him. - How? - He’s coming, accompanied by his sister. 48

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- Are they here? Did they come with you? He exclaimed with bright eyes, emotion, burning with desire to hug her. - Unfortunately, no! I'm here to pick them when they will come. - To pick them? I don’t understand! When I’m listening to you, I think they are on the run. - This is the case. Your son left home about three weeks ago taking his sister. They escaped after. It's hard to explain. Your son is not like other children. He has got a special gift. It enables him to act on all kinds of waves. It doesn’t control this power and is responsible for several deaths. Unintentionally, of course! I had to... provoke him that he becomes aware of his difference. He fled, taking also aware he could escape the hellish world in which he was confined. You embody a lifeline. But I must bring him back home. He is wanted by the police. Not for death but he ran away with his sister. - He will never want to follow you. - You seem to be sure. - This is a Briton, like his father! Nobody’s more stubborn than me, I can guarantee it! My son has the same character, made of hardened steel. In fact, a detail bothers me: he is gone for three weeks. Why are they not yet here? - As a good Briton, he went by boat. - By boat? Fifteen years? He is crazy! Sailing, he will need more than two months before arriving! - I don’t think he chose a sailboat. I think he sailed with a powerful outboard. - This kid is incredible! I so want to know him, he finally said without holding his tears. Suddenly, ten years of pain came too long restrained by tracing channels through the furrows under the eyes dug by the wind, the sun and spray. He sat in front of Alexa, his head between his hands. He reproached himself for having ignored his previous life. Choices! This fucking life always needed choices, every minute, every second. The choice of words which healed or hurt, the choice of actions which pleased or displeased, the choice to stay or to go, the choice to live inside hell in paradise, being quiet, working hard to forget without never get there. Choose between death and shame. Cruel dilemma, never ending dilemma… - He will not find me. He knows I live in Tahiti Polynesia. But they are more than one hundred and thirty inhabited islands. And he doesn’t know my new name. - He will find you. You can be sure, Gaetan. You’re a little older, you changed your identity, place of residence, but there is one thing you didn’t change. One thing! - Which one? - Your thoughts. Your love for Loic and Tiphaine. You still love them as strong, despite the years separating you from them. Loic will feel it. Your love will be like a beacon on which he will mirror the way to find you. I can assure you. You're not a bad father. You are only a father who had to make choices and choices, I know something, are not always easy to do. - Do you know what is to leave his children? - No. I left a love spinning away for not having been able to preserve it. And I have a friend who chose one day... to provide... his life... for me. - His life? He saved you from an accident?

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- Not an accident. This is... difficult to explain. If I am what I am, Alexa Sarbacane, it’s thanks to him . And also thanks to my author. - Ah... Let me give you a meal. It's rare to meet someone bringing me so important news. - That's nice, thank you! Loic and Tiphaine should not be long in coming. In two or three days. You will be kind to tell me. I am at the Vahine hotel. - Are you going to bring them with you? - I'll have to do. Don’t think they can stay, Gaetan. Don’t dream. I doubt that justice will accept after nine years of unexercised parental authority. - I know. - Listen to me... What I want is to teach Loic how to use his power. I would like him to be my disciple. I know he's brilliant. I also want to determine whether Tiphaine has special gifts. - It is possible. - Why? - In the family, everyone from my father's side seems to possess unusual gifts. Diviners, seers, wizards, telepaths, and so on of the best. - Really? And yourself? - I... communicate with dead people. - Like me, the ghosts! You see them? - No. I hear voices. That's it. I can send messages. Tiphaine may not have anything. With very few exceptions, only men have paranormal gifts. You, as I understand it, this occurred quite late in the pulse, the action of a deceased person? I'm wrong? - No, you're absolutely right. - Good! Waiting to see my kids land by a miracle, would you eat? - Do you have a crepe with lobster? Or lobster with pancake? - You have a lot of humor! I don’t have fresh lobster, but do not forget, I'm as stubborn as my son and that is no small compliment. After these words, he took his T-shirt and sandals off and laid them at the foot of Alexa’s chair. He was one of those smiling guys who have enough in the pants and head to try to surprise a young lady Sarbacane. He plunged with his shorts with the fleet, executed a swim, took a deep breath and plunged into the clear waters of the ocean. He had no fresh lobster? No worry! He would look for one on the spot, directly at ten or fifteen meters underwater. Alexa liked this kind of dude: he had character to spare while being sensitive. She laughed when she saw a miraculous catch up after the fourth attempt. * ** The lobster had brought other friends on the metal grill. Gaetan lived in a one hundred and fifty square meters beachfront hut. No pool’s need: he just had to walk thirty meters to put his feet in the water of the largest swimming pool of the Earth. It was dark for several hours. It was nine o'clock. Gaetan decided Alexa would take her meals at the restaurant for lunchtime and at home in the evening. With few exceptions, she spent a good part of her days with the sea bass, to converse until the hypothetical arrival of children. Four days had 50

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passed and they had not given any sign of life. Alexa began to doubt her tale and to have given some hope to their father. Embers were finishing grilling lobsters. The young woman was installed on the deck, swinging in the hammock. Gaetan was inside. Suddenly, she stopped her movement and looked up, alert, like a prairie dog, sniffing the wind, scanning the horizon, tracking the danger signs. Gaetan appeared and noted the attitude of the young woman. - What’s it? - They're coming. - What? I hear nothing. - I can’t too. But I know they are close. I go inside. I leave you welcome. - You think... ? - You will come out well, do not worry! Remember all the love you have for them! And I do not want to spoil their joy. Not immediately. She spun to hide upstairs on a mezzanine, among tropical plants. She felt. She closed her eyes. Yes ... She saw so clearly on a very powerful red and white boot. Loic was piloting. She could see with his eyes. He saw the coast. Gaetan listened. Engine noise unleashing unbridled horses. It headed straight for him. How his son had managed such a feat? How? He heard the engines but saw no fire position. His kid sailing without report! He must have unwavering confidence in him. Finally he saw the shadow of the boat which slowed. Gaetan walked on the dock. He saw for the first time his son and his nine years old daughter. He recognized Loic who had not changed so much. The vision provoked a torrent of emotion so violent that he had to force himself not to get overwhelmed. The girl was Tiphaine. The last time he had seen her, she was a baby. Now, she was a slip of a girl who had mushroomed. He could not believe his eyes. He thought Miss Sarbacane was an original who had mounted a story from scratch for an unknown reason. No... She said the truth but only the truth. The boy threw a rope he caught and he tied neatly on a bollard. - It is not possible! This face! My God! I don’t believe it! Loic! - Dad! They threw their arms around each other by hugging as hard as they could. Then he turned to his daughter and he opened his arms as well. She did not hesitate one second to step into the breach. He closed his eyes and burst into sobs, too upset to hide his feelings any unwelcomed modesty. He kept thanking the Lord for bringing the unexpected reunion, completely forgetting that Miss Sarbacane had done for something. He knelt on the deck, swearing that nothing would separate them. A pipe dream... He dragged then inside the house. While the kids were ecstatic at the paradise in which he lived, he invited them to sit and listen. 51

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- Listen, kids ... I am overwhelmed by your coming but... They feared the worst. Loic knew the first. - Did you expected us? - Yes. I did not believe her when she told me you were coming. I did not believe and yet you're here with me after all these years. - Who told you? - I did, Alexa replied, down the stairs. - You! Loic was ready to throw all his hatred in the battle. - You're not... - Dead? No. Are you disappointed? - No. I thought... - You have very nearly! I spent over a week in the hospital with your hidden talents. I ran a lot because of you. - You reported to the cops, did you? - No. - How did you find us? - You're not the only one with special gifts, dear Loic. Wherever you go, I would have found you. Loic, this small experience, very dangerous, had only one purpose: to show you that you have extremely harmful powers if you do not learn to dominate. If you wish, I can guide you. I've never been, I admit. I'm still willing to try. - I'm not normal, that's it! You've just shown my abnormality. - If you're not normal, your father is not normal, his brother is not, and their father was not. - What are you talking about? Dad? - That's right, Loic. Most of the men in the family have abilities. We are apart human beings. - You too? - Me too. I communicate with ghosts. I hear them, they hear me. - Ghosts? Are there some here? - In this house? There were some. I helped them to leave when necessary. - This is crazy! I swim in delirium! Everything happened because of you, Detective! Tiphaine rushed into Alexa’s arms, against all odds. She intervened. - What are you doing? You're in my camp or her? - Nobody is against you, Loic. We're all looking for a solution to the problems you are facing. - Problems? You will reap some if you put yourself through my way! - It could be that your attacks have no effect on me. Since you tried to kill me, Alexa threw voluntarily these strong words, I learned how to protect myself from your power. I doubt my

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guardian angel agrees to undergo a further insult. As I know him , he will send you back your flow of brain waves directly in the face. I could be tour last mistake. - Ah! It's fun to read you like a book! You have no parade. Despite this... - Despite this what? I listen to you. - Your guardian angel ... He would do anything to protect you. Why? He gave his life for you. Why did he sacrifice? I don’t understand. - Loic, become my follower and I'll teach you why. Gaetan, fight to exercise your authority to learn him why. You know what he is lacking: compassion, love. Loic is ignorant and suffering. Loic, unless your parents are willing to let you and your sister live in Tahiti, you will come back with me. I know little about your mother, but if she knows that your father is alive, if she learns his identity, she could require a backlog of maintenance. Or let you live here thinking to get rid of you. This assumes that your father agrees to welcome you as he knew almost nothing of you there are only four days. This also implies a justice decision, a long one to come and its result is not known in advance. Just come across a judge who believes that the provision of a mother is better, even if she is drunk every day. So the nightmare continues three years for you, ten years for your sister, until your majority. I have relationships, I’ll try everything under my power to make things right. But for your gifts, you must learn to control them. This is the only thing that will make me act the way I want. - And you, Dad? What do you think? - I think Miss Sarbacane is right to protect you from yourself. - But... would you welcome us here? Your answer is the most important thing. If you don’t want, it is useless to fight in court. - You want the answer, son. Right? - Yes. - Follow Alexa’s advice. Use your power and read my answer. The face of teen lit. He should use his gifts of telepathy, connect the brain frequency of his father and find the answer in the labyrinth of the mind. He tried to determine how to do so usually, this triggered an impromptu manner. He looked into the eyes of his father, kicking his quest for the Holy Grail. He heard an inner voice chanting a single sentence: "Look for the answer!" These words came from the mind of the investigator. The latter smiled. She monopolized his attention to watering brainwave parasites. He would have sent a telepathic burst to get rid of the disturbing but he fought this idea: he could never eliminate all secondary sources in a crowd to capture only the thoughts of one person. Certainly, the task looked daunting. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, inspired and exhaled deeply three times and connected to the spirit of the father. In a split second, he swept his life, his desires, his dreams, his fears, his regrets. He bitterly regretted not being a present father, but assumed his decision towards a woman who was clearly not made for him and with whom he had persisted in believing the opposite. He read as he held may be an opportunity to change the course of things, to change the future history if they couldn’t change the past history.

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Gaetan smiled when he saw Loic having joy. He found the answer in the middle of a puddle of memories, feelings, and silent words of buried pain. * ** The turn of events took the path of the storm. Gaetan was willing to support the education of children, one hundred percent, with visitation rights granted to the mother if she wanted to. Get rid of the kids tremendously relieved her. The visitation did not matter but she linked her response to a single condition: Gaetan should pay for nine years of support arrears, plus legal interest, plus compensatory allowances for her personal income. Finally, she required a lump sum she called the "pain and suffering" price she had endured while raising her children without monetary assistance, dipping in alcohol (which costs money. But where did she take the money for booze and change clothes regularly while her children didn’t have the slightest distraction?). She estimated the total score: a hundred and fifty thousand euros. Gaetan didn’t have the third of this amount at the bank. To pay, he should sell the pancake shop and his home. He would be ruined and without work. This bitch took too much advantage. Alexa brought back the children to Mante la Jolie in her legendary Beetle. She said: - Loic, we are close to the goal but your mother gives us some problems. I have a plan. - Yeah! It's easy! I use my powers to soften her brain and send her to the hospital. - Bad idea, dude. Very bad. This is a negative and clumsy way to use your powers. Listen to me... I gave you three weeks of my life in Bora Bora to teach you to make the difference between good and evil, a good way to use your powers and a wrong way. Did you already forget all? - No, Alexa. - Tiphaine, please, could you explain to your brother how he could use his powers otherwise! - By reading the thoughts of Mom to see what she is up to. - Good answer, girl! You see, Loic, your sister is using her brain. Do it too! - OK! OK! Wait... I know... I just find what she's afraid of... I feel her thoughts. - At this distance? - Yes. - You did huge progresses. - She is afraid of... ghosts, apparitions. The most terrorizing is… the house would be haunted. Great! - I see... - Don’t you agree? I move objects, furniture. I make her believe she sees ghosts until she leave us. - After all, I like your idea. She must sign the damn paper without asking a dime. I'll play the game: it will only add a little credit! - Give me five! Together, we will win! Tiphaine, you'll be my accomplice. When I tell you, you’ll say seeing spirits I will describe before. We will win, little sister!

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Detective penned her car in front of the deteriorated building. She prayed for her little car with the bright paint which had just been redone (Author's note: she prayed St. Christopher, for that matter!). When they reached the landing, they repeated a number of times last vision, describing the chain of evil scenario. Then Alexa knocked on the door. The shrew opened with swearing, as usual. - Hey! My fools of brats! She grabbed them quite badly and ordered to disappear into their room. - You, I have two words for you! She threw to the attention of Miss Sarbacane. - This is great! Me too! - You have mixed my life, my children's lives. It was not your matter! - I was investigating at the request of one of my customers because of the actions of your son. Since you seem to hear nothing of the problem of your son and your daughter, I'll explain things harder. - What is the problem? - The problem is you, their stepfather and the whole family. It is enough to note that they are abused for they will be removed. The easiest way would you give up your right of custody to the father. - I'll do it only if he gives me the money! - He will not give you a cent because if you... You... Lord! But you did not tell me you had guests! - Guests? Which guests? - Well... there! In your living room! The mother turned towards the living room and saw with horror that she had actually hosts. With horror as the hosts were undesirable. - My God! No! No! She was yelling. - Ghosts! No! Hunt them! - What? Hunt? How can I remove them? Why do you think I can achieve such a feat? She was unable to answer the question because she was totally paralyzed by fear. She shook her whole body as if she had plunged into a delirium tremens crisis. A misty cloud of chimeras oozed from walls and seeped in closets, dressers, snooping, inspecting and returning objects. They were interested in their new environment. - I know them! This is a band of particularly disturbing ghosts. You'll see, they'll destroy your home as soon as you turn your back. 55

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- Drive them out! The mother screamed, on the brink of hysteria. - I'm sorry. It is beyond my abilities. They are attracted by sadness as flies are attracted by rotting. - Sadness? I'm not sad! - You, no. But children, certainly... That will not work out. When they invest in a place, nothing can dislodge them. - How so? I'll call an exorcist priest! She rushed on the phone and directory. But she was unable to enter the unit that flew and broke into pieces against the wall. Various small objects took flight toward the woman without touching her. Loic conscientiously avoided her. Alexa was properly amazed by the amazing capabilities of the boy. In a short time, he understood how to tame his gifts so that they do not cause injury or death. Now he began to use with virtuosity. The oil stove suddenly opened. The book went inside and the door was closed. Then, it burned. "He’s learning fast. It just bothers me that he learns now alone. I'll have to go to Bora Bora from time to time to complete his training at my side when this vixen has finally understood that has to give." - A priest exorcist will not be of any use. - How to drive? They will break everything! - They always leave themselves. - When? - When there is nothing else to destroy and there is no one to bother. The owners move to settle away, or they kill themselves. Unless... - Unless what? - Unless the source of their attraction disappears... - Who? My kids? - Probably. Well! I leave you with your little monsters. Take a broom and shovel because there will be damage beyond expectations. - Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me alone! Alexa didn’t say a word. She just sent a friendly sign to the children in the hallway. Only Tiphaine answered. Her brother was busy, projecting ghosts in the mind of his mother while shaking the apartment and its contents as a plum. All this was such a degree of reality that the mother was nearing amok. A few hours or a few days at this rate and she would ship Loic and his sister in the first plane for the French Polynesia. She could still hear her screaming when she reached the ground floor. They had a brilliant idea. The young boy gradually left the world of danger to use his powers wisely. She succeeded her mission.

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* ** Yann had a sad look when entering in their regular coffee shop. Alexa immediately noticed it. However, there were reasons to be satisfied. The Torellec case was no longer one. The only person who knew the truth about the teenager, Marco, the customer, did not file a complaint against the young man. He simply wanted an explanation, nothing more. Facing a rational jury and a good defense attorney, the supernatural argument failed after five minutes in the courtroom. After a week of terror, the mother had agreed to sit in front of the judge along with her exhusband, Gaetan. Reluctantly, she signed documents with a final custody to the father, to the delight of children. Alexa had not witnessed the signing, not to appear involved in the case. She joined the resoldered family after the protocol. After a friendly meal, the children went to their dream destination, accompanied by dad. At least! Loïc said "thank you" for the first time in his life and this simple word shot him many tears. He promised to come back during the holidays, to learn with Alexa, to see how he could improve his gifts. Everthink was ending well (Author's note: I write for like in American movies with a happy end!). However, Yann was puzzled by sitting at the table. - A coffee, please! - You have got a strange, Inspector! That's why you called me in our usual office? - Yes. - It's about Juliette? - No. - Your job? - Yes. - Hey! You are so talkative today! Did you swallow an umbrella? - No, a snake. A refusal. - Damn! Your insurance company refused to give you a job? - Not exactly. The police refused my resignation. - So what? You can go anyway, right? - That's right... But the Minister of Interior has convened me. - The Minister? Wow! You are important! - Indeed! He offers me to create an exclusively service related to paranormal investigation. I become the boss of the service with the rank of Chief Inspector, budget, resources, an office, two people with me. My direct boss is ... He. - Minister? - Yes. - Damn! What a promotion! Where is the bone? - Bone? What bone? - The bones in the mill, the sand grain that makes the machinery is not as perfect as we want you to believe. 57

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- There are no bones. I just wanted to leave the police for Juliette, for the twins. And now, there is this golden proposal I would be crazy to rejectl. Obviously, if I have good results, some success, and blah and blah, I harvest a substantial increase of money. Insurance company becomes less attractive. - What are you complaining about, my dear Yann? You want your cake and eat it, he gives you more the creamery, the dairy, farm, cows, goats, ducks. What do you want more? - Ducks do not give milk. - You start to be humorous like me? You progress, my friend! Soon, you will exchange your dull clothes against a yellow jacket, red pants and a green t-shirt! - Do not go far! I'm just bored towards Juliette. I promised to work safely. - A safe work does not exist. You've talked to her? - No... - What are you waiting for, goof? You want a lesson about communication in a relationship? You better go to practice tonight or I will sting you with a syringe filled with truth serum in the lower back, if you see what I mean! Then you will talk forever about your previous life when you were a true Dom Juan. - It is not true! - Then run! - OK! And you? What's new since you arranged the Torellec matter? - Everything is OK! I get one or two surveys of industrial espionage, to rest my neurons and let my guardian angel to be in a better health. I don’t forget it protected me and it costed him a lot of energy. - And what else? - What do you mean? - Well ... Moral... We have not really discussed... - Mood is up. How could it be otherwise, given the level reached the grass roots. - Ah... - Go! Put it your way! Learn to communicate! You burn with desire to ask me something! - Are you seeing someone? - No, I don’t see anyone. I intend to see a handsome man who pleases me. - The Italian kind? - He might have some Italian origins. Are you satisfied? - Enough ... You cannot say more? - It is not a foregone conclusion! - The famous Alexa Sarbacane meets resistance! Incredible! What a scoop! - Yes! My author may well have conceived me totally perfect in his eyes, still have difficulties I meet with Marco. It will take patience, words and most importantly, a hell of a challenge to overcome. Yann sincerely confessed that her provoking ability would overcome any problem. Alexa did not know whether to take it as a compliment or a criticism. Since she was in a good mood, she took the right side. Suddenly, she felt a strange sensation. Her watch sounded. She consulted the screen.

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" Close your eyes!" She began to run the operation. An accurate flash appeared briefly. She saw a camera with a long zoom trigger. A man was in a gray small car, maybe a Peugeot. Yes, she had seen a lion in the center of the steering wheel, the emblem of Peugeot. The photographer's face remained a mystery because he was masked by the massive machine. Yann worried: - What's going on? - I had a vision. The vision of a photographer in a car. - So what? - I'm sure I was the topic he was taking pictures. Strange! An indefinable thing crumpled in this scene. She closed her eyes again, printing the vision until it reveals its uniqueness. The wheel... It was on the right side of the car! * **

To be continued ...

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