Marquanteur And The Redheads: France Crime Thriller

By Alfred Bekker

Marquanteur And The Redheads: France Crime Thriller

by Alfred Bekker

 

 

A serial killer, who has been on the loose for years, always kills red-haired women. Hence the name in the media: Tueur de Roux - the redhead killer!. When a toxic waste route is dug up by the garbage mafia, there are clues to the disposal of the dead women. The FoPoCri discovers the alleged culprit. However, his state of mind raises doubts.

 

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, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden, and Janet Farell.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Aug 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223722731

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

My name is Pierre Marquanteur. I am a commissaire in Marseille and belong to a special unit dedicated to fighting organized crime. We are called Force spéciale de la police criminelle, or FoPoCri for short, and we have our offices at police headquarters in Marseille.

In addition, we also take on the odd serious crime case that the other departments can't handle. That is decided on a case-by-case basis.

My colleague Commissaire François Leroc always says, We may not be able to defeat crime, but at least we're preventing it from spreading unchecked.

He is probably right to say so.

Our boss is Monsieur Jean-Claude Marteau, Commissaire général de police.

He lost his entire family to organized crime.

I cannot tell you how Monsieur Marteau assesses our work in terms of the prospects of success. I think he would continue even if the chances of success were zero percent.

He is the first one in the office in the morning and the last to leave in the evening.

We all put all our effort into our job.

But none like Monsieur Marteau.

But a boss should also set a good example, right?

*

The freighter PECHEUR DE PERLES had just left the port of Marseille. Our action had been carefully planned down to the last detail, but for some reason the ship had left fifteen minutes early and was now heading for the Mediterranean.

Megaphone voices rang out and mixed with the engine sounds of speedboats. I could barely understand what they were saying, which was due to the fact that I was aboard a helicopter that was on approach to the PECHEUR DE PERLES, along with several other colleagues. Bernard Thomas, one of the helicopter pilots of FoPoCri in Marseille, was lowering the aircraft onto the loading deck.

The crew on deck looked like a scattered bunch of chickens. An MP rattled. The muzzle flash leaked blood-red from the short barrel of an Uzi. A couple of projectiles slammed into the heli's outer armor close above me. Another shot got stuck in the special glass of the windshield.

The helicopter touched down.

I rushed out through the open outer door. I held the service weapon with both hands. I pulled up the SIG Sauer P 226 and fired five rounds from the magazine in quick succession.

2

I ducked, fired again. Close behind me were my colleagues François Leroc and Fred Lacroix. All the colleagues involved in this operation were wearing Kevlar vests and were connected to each other via headset.

The guy who had been shooting at us with the Uzi was now firing almost aimlessly in the area. He waved the gun sideways as he stumbled forward. His accomplices were also brandishing weapons. Automatic pistols, pump guns and MPs of various makes were among them.

Tons of hazardous waste were on board the PECHEUR DE PERLES, a freighter that had certainly seen its best days. In the course of months of research, FoPoCri Marseille had tracked down an organization that illegally disposed of toxic waste. This branch of organized crime, also known as the garbage mafia, had long since caught up with traditional areas of organized crime activity such as drug and arms trafficking. The profit margins were enormous when toxic industrial waste that should have been disposed of at great expense was simply dumped on an industrial site purchased by straw men or shipped out to a developing country where regulations were less stringent. We had learned of the illegal cargo of the PECHEUR DE PERLES through a wiretap operation. At the same time as our operation, search and arrest operations were underway at half a dozen other locations.

Shots whip past us.

In the meantime, several speedboats of the Coast Guard and the Harbor Police had moored alongside the PECHEUR DE PERLES. Our colleagues as well as officers of the harbor police and coast guard climbed aboard.

At the latest now it was clear for the armed men on deck of the PECHEUR DE PERLES that they had no chance.

The guy who had fired at us with the MP surrendered. A man with a pump shotgun fired one last, poorly aimed shot in our direction before disappearing into a cargo hatch. The others were more reasonable and raised their hands.

Stéphane Caron, the second man of our special department and head of operations during this action, climbed over the railing of the PECHEUR DE PERLES together with his colleague Boubou Ndonga and other colleagues. 

Soon after, the first handcuffs clicked and the arrestees were read their rights.

François and I stormed up the stairs to the bridge. Fred Lacroix was close on our heels. François yanked open the door, and I rushed in with the SIG in both hands.

Captain, helmsman and a gunman were on the bridge of the PECHEUR DE PERLES. The gunman was a broad-shouldered fellow with red hair, an Uzi hanging over his left shoulder. He reached for the weapon, wrenched the extremely dainty submachine gun around and pulled the trigger.

I fired a split second earlier than he did. The first bullet from my SIG caught him in the shoulder and jerked him to the side. He staggered. His own shot was snapped. Instead of perforating me, the relatively small-caliber Uzi projectiles punched a trail of tiny holes in the wall and eventually shattered a target as well.

The redhead staggered back two steps, slammed into a wall, and jerked his weapon up once more as he slid to the ground.

I didn't let his MP rattle off again. My second shot hit him in the middle of the torso. Motionless, the redhead sank completely to the ground. His eyes were fixed, his mouth half open.

I stepped closer and found that he was no longer alive.

He left you no choice, François noted.

The captain and helmsman stood rooted to the spot. Fred Lacroix scanned them briefly and found a nine-millimeter caliber weapon on the helmsman. The captain was unarmed.

You are under arrest, my colleague François Leroc told them. Anything you say from now on can be used against you in court if you do not exercise your right to remain silent ...

We will not comment until we speak to a lawyer, the captain explained.

That's your right, François said. But you should also bear in mind that legally it may turn out much more favorably for you if you decide to testify early. Because someone among the estimated fifty or sixty arrests being made right now will talk.

The only question is who will decide to do it first, I added.

3

All engines were switched to stop. But it took a while for a ship like the PECHEUR DE PERLES to noticeably slow down her speed. Fortunately, we had assistance from the port police. In their ranks there were employees who could guide a ship of this size.

Since both the captain and the helmsman refused to assist us in any way, we had no choice but to wait until two of these officials arrived on the bridge and took charge of the ship.

We led the prisoners away. They were met on the main deck by colleagues who transferred them to harbor police boats.

Our colleague Stéphane Caron came to meet us.

This should be one of the biggest blows against the trash mafia in at least a year, he opined.

Let's not praise the day before the evening, I replied. "Only when the suspected poison barrels are actually on board the PECHEUR DE PERLES will we have a legal handle - and then the question is still whether we've just caught a few small fish, or whether we'll finally get to the backers who are pulling off these