Marquanteur And The Test Of Courage: France Crime Thriller

By Alfred Bekker

Marquanteur And The Test Of Courage: France Crime Thriller

by Alfred Bekker

 

 

A robbery with several deaths has dire consequences. What was actually planned as a test of courage for joining a gang results in a gang war in the middle of Marseille, and the trail of blood becomes ever wider. Commissaires Marquanteur and Leroc have to be careful not to become targets themselves.

Alfred Bekker is a well-known author of fantasy novels, thrillers and books for young people. In addition to his major book successes, he has written numerous novels for suspense series such as Ren Dhark, Jerry Cotton, Cotton Reloaded, Kommissar X, John Sinclair, and Jessica Bannister. He has also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Jack Raymond, Jonas Herlin, Dave Branford, Chris Heller, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden, and Janet Farell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Aug 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223880783

Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker wurde am 27.9.1964 in Borghorst (heute Steinfurt) geboren und wuchs in den münsterländischen Gemeinden Ladbergen und Lengerich auf. 1984 machte er Abitur, leistete danach Zivildienst auf der Pflegestation eines Altenheims und studierte an der Universität Osnabrück für das Lehramt an Grund- und Hauptschulen. Insgesamt 13 Jahre war er danach im Schuldienst tätig, bevor er sich ausschließlich der Schriftstellerei widmete. Schon als Student veröffentlichte Bekker zahlreiche Romane und Kurzgeschichten. Er war Mitautor zugkräftiger Romanserien wie Kommissar X, Jerry Cotton, Rhen Dhark, Bad Earth und Sternenfaust und schrieb eine Reihe von Kriminalromanen. Angeregt durch seine Tätigkeit als Lehrer wandte er sich schließlich auch dem Kinder- und Jugendbuch zu, wo er Buchserien wie 'Tatort Mittelalter', 'Da Vincis Fälle', 'Elbenkinder' und 'Die wilden Orks' entwickelte. Seine Fantasy-Romane um 'Das Reich der Elben', die 'DrachenErde-Saga' und die 'Gorian'-Trilogie machten ihn einem großen Publikum bekannt. Darüber hinaus schreibt er weiterhin Krimis und gemeinsam mit seiner Frau unter dem Pseudonym Conny Walden historische Romane. Einige Gruselromane für Teenager verfasste er unter dem Namen John Devlin. Für Krimis verwendete er auch das Pseudonym Neal Chadwick. Seine Romane erschienen u.a. bei Blanvalet, BVK, Goldmann, Lyx, Schneiderbuch, Arena, dtv, Ueberreuter und Bastei Lübbe und wurden in zahlreiche Sprachen übersetzt.

Book preview

1

5:00 p.m. Rush hour in Marseille. Traffic was once again at a standstill on the bridge of the expressway. The repair work currently being carried out on the bridge structure kept causing traffic jams. Special vehicles stopped at the edge of the carriageway. Bottlenecks were inevitable when traffic was heavy. Louis Sanscere tapped nervously on the steering wheel of his convertible. The dark-haired girl in the passenger seat rolled her eyes in annoyance.

You should have listened to me and gone through the tunnel, she grumbled, I told you ... She didn't speak further, widening her eyes in wonder. Sanscere was just as confused. Seven young men sped through the narrow lanes between the stationary vehicles on roller skates. Their pace was breakneck. They wore long Western coats, helmets, and sunglasses with mirrored lenses that hid much of their faces. The first of them stopped, jerked out an automatic and fired wildly.

2

The others also took out their weapons. Automatic pistols and a sawed-off shotgun. One of the roller skates riders brandished a hand grenade in his left hand.

Open the windows - or there'll be a big bang! he shouted.

A guy whose helmet said Wild Eagle fired his automatic through the side window of a BMW. Two holes were in the glass. The bullets were lodged somewhere in the upholstery. The driver sat huddled behind the wheel, looking terrified.

The guy slid up on his roller skates and elbowed the pane that had been shot through. It broke apart. He reached inside with his gun arm, holding the muzzle towards the BMW driver.

The wallet, you fat ass!

The BMW driver reached into the inside pocket of his thousand-euro suit and handed over the wallet.

Louis Sanscere watched the scene with narrowed eyes.

Damn bastards! he hissed between his teeth.

The mademoiselle in the passenger seat of his open Porsche began to whimper.

Louis! Do something!

Shut up, Eva!

One of the gangsters sped toward the sports car, gun in hand.

Sanscere reached under his jacket, yanked out an automatic. He fired immediately. The roller-skating rider took a hit to the head, staggered back and hit the rear of a van.

Eva's eyes and mouth opened wide.

The dark-haired mademoiselle screamed hysterically.

The guy with the hand grenade pulled the trigger with his teeth. Sanscere's face contorted into a grim mask. He swung the gun around and fired again. His shot caught the guy with the hand grenade in the chest. Fractions of a second before the roller-skate rider could hurl the hand grenade in Sansceres' direction, the force of the projectile sent him staggering back. He landed on the fender of a coupe, sliding to the ground covered in blood.

One of his accomplices fired at Sanscere almost at the same moment. A jolt went through the man's body. The bullet caught him in the chest, just above the heart.

The young woman in the passenger seat screamed.

The next moment the hand grenade detonated.

Discs burst.

The coupe was literally torn apart. Metal parts flew through the air. The tank exploded. One of the Mantel gangsters, who had been standing too close to the source of the explosion, was caught in the flames. The blast wave hurled him through the air like a burning doll. The body crashed into the side front of a container truck. His scream fell silent.

The roller-skates rider with the shotgun stopped the barrel of his rollers, whirled around. There was nothing more he could do for his accomplice. He stared at the blazing flames, then turned to the mademoiselle in the Porsche passenger seat, who was in complete shock.

Eva sat there trembling. Next to her was the bloodied corpse of Louis Sanscere.

The masked man raised the shotgun to the level of her head.

Give me your guy's wallet!

The young woman sat there in complete consternation. She stared at a certain point at shoulder level that captured her gaze. There was a patch on the coarse fabric of the Western coat.

Fuck U!!! it said.

Eva swallowed.

Come on, let's get out of here! shouted one of the other masked men.

But the guy with the shotgun didn't let that affect him. He pulled the trigger, jerked it up in the air at the last moment, so that the shot charge went into nothingness. The blonde flinched.

Will it soon?

Trembling, the young woman reached into the dead Sanscere's inside jacket pocket and pulled out her wallet. The shotgunner snatched it from her hand. Then he started moving, sliding between the cars on his rollers.

A couple of people who had gotten out of their cars jumped out of his way at the last second.

3

Monsieur Marteau made a serious face. François and I were sitting together with a number of other colleagues from the Force spéciale de la police criminelle in our boss's conference room at the police headquarters in Marseille. Sitting next to me was my colleague François Leroc. My name is Commissaire Pierre Marquanteur.

If we are unlucky, the death of Louis Sanscere is just the prelude to a full-blown gang war, Monsieur Marteau explained.

Sanscere and his gang were currently trying by all means to break the domination of the Russians and Ukrainians from Marseille in the field of illegal waste disposal. The profit margins in this branch of organized crime for years already far exceeded those of drug trafficking. This is an undesirable side effect of ever higher environmental standards and dwindling storage capacities at legal hazardous waste dumps.

Monsieur Marteau turned to Commissaire Maxime Valois from Internal Affairs.

I had asked you to compile a dossier on Monsieur Sanscere's career to date for the colleagues present, Maxime.

I did that, too. It's still being printed out. Essentially, our findings so far can be summarized as follows: Louis Sanscere took over the business from his father, Tony, three years ago, who went out of the country before justice could be served against him. Now Tony Sanscere is sitting in Morocco and can expect to probably not be extradited for another twenty years.

And even if he did, Monsieur Marteau added. Sanscere senior made early arrangements to transfer the profits from his illegal business abroad. He would be rich enough to bribe the judiciary in Morocco to his liking.

No one will be able to lure him out of this safe haven any time soon, I was convinced.

Monsieur Marteau raised his eyebrows.

Who knows? In any case, his son Louis Sanscere was shot dead on the expressway early yesterday evening under very peculiar circumstances, which could also change things for the old head of the family. Any of you who had the local news or breakfast television on will have seen the pictures of the cloud of smoke moving toward Bompard.

Maxime Valois projected an image on the wall showing the crime scene just minutes after the attack. A police helicopter had taken the photo. The plume of smoke was clearly visible.

Colleagues were still interviewing dozens of witnesses last night. Some of our commissaires were also present. According to them, the following picture emerges: a group of seven armed roller-skaters sped between the vehicles stuck in the traffic jam and began to rob the defenseless occupants. One of them threatened to cause an inferno with a hand grenade.

Which I guess he succeeded in doing, said Stéphane Caron. Monsieur Marteau's deputy sipped his coffee mug.

Maxime Valois scratched his chin.

According to the witnesses, it didn't go the way this roller-skating gang must have planned. A Porsche driver pulled a gun and fought back. That was Louis Sanscere. He engaged in a firefight with the attackers. A total of three of them were killed. In the process, the hand grenade was triggered. The remains of the three roller skaters are at the coroner's office, and I hope that we will know as soon as possible who they are. The explosion, as well as metal fragments thrown through the air, also killed the occupants of a sports coupe who, according to our findings so far, were completely uninvolved. Several dozen people suffered injuries.

Were the perpetrators really targeting Monsieur Sanscere, or was it a robbery after all? my friend and colleague François Leroc inquired.

Maxime Valois shrugged his shoulders.

We don't know. Only one thing is certain: there are some people in the garbage mafia in Marseille for whom Sanscere's death suits them well. And old Monsieur Sanscere will now swear blood vengeance.

So either way, we can expect a lot in the near future, Monsieur Marteau concluded. Louis Sanscere's second man here in Marseille is a certain Richard Nouveau. An 'Ndrangheta gangster. Belongs to the family, a great cousin, I believe. We assume he's continuing the business.

"If the hypothesis is true that those behind this are the ones we suspect, then Nouveau will certainly be number