Delitescent: Yaroon, #1

By Eduard Meinema

An accident never comes alone.
A traffic accident in Paris reveals things no one thought possible.
Alien things.

Detectives Peyrac and M'Pelé investigate the case, but soon realize that this is not an ordinary, everyday case. They are opposed by organizations they have never had to deal with during their career. Secret services are eager to cover up the whole case.
The annoying thing for the detectives is that in order to solve the case, they also have to work with those organizations.

To everyone's frustration, it soon turns out that what seemed so simple at first glance, degenerates into an explosive situation that no one can keep a secret anymore.
A hidden world is exposed by brute force...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eduard Meinema
• Release date: Mar 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224544745

Book preview

1

Delitescent (Yaroon #1)

An accident never comes alone.

A traffic accident in Paris reveals things no one thought possible.

Alien things.

Detectives Peyrac and M’Pelé investigate the case, but soon realize that this is not an ordinary, everyday case. They are opposed by organizations they have never had to deal with during their career. Secret services are eager to cover up the whole case.

The annoying thing for the detectives is that in order to solve the case, they also have to work with those organizations.

To everyone’s frustration, it soon turns out that what seemed so simple at first glance, degenerates into an explosive situation that no one can keep a secret anymore.

A hidden world is exposed by brute force…

2

1

You mean, now? Detective Emmanuel Peyrac looked at his smartwatch. Damned, it’s almost twelve o’clock; my shift has been over for two hours, he said furiously to the intercom in the car.

His colleague, Neyman M’Pelé, listened in with a chuckle. Go get him! he whispered to Peyrac.

Still, I want you to go and have a look, right now, Commissioner Giraud said. Listen, if it wasn’t important to me, I wouldn’t have called you myself but would have asked the receptionist on duty to send that quack of Sagan over there. Do we understand each other?

Okay, Peyrac sighed grumpily. Just go M’Pelé. Bring us to the hospital.

Less than five minutes later, M’Pelé parked the car in front of the emergency room entrance of the Necker Hospital on Rue de Sèvres in Paris.

No, not here, Peyrac grumbled, You heard him say it yourself, didn’t you? We have to report to the main entrance.

But, it was a traffic accident, wasn’t it?

Huh? Yes. Yes, he did say that, didn’t he?

Fine, M’Pelé sighed and drove on to the closed main entrance. It’s a bit strange that we’re being sent there, don’t you think?

Peyrac just shrugged. After nearly thirty years of service, there wasn’t much left to surprise him. He got out first and walked toward the glass doors. Around this time, the doors to the central hall of the hospital no longer opened automatically; the two detectives had to report and wait for someone from security to come get them.

A very young guard came at a hopping trot, almost running to the main entrance. The bunches of keys on his belt were so heavy that his pants seemed to sag a little with every move he made. Nervously he fiddled three times using the wrong key in the lock. Finally, the door opened. Detectives Peyrac and M’Pelé? he asked as he let the men in.

Yes. Not very clever, huh? Peyrac said.

The young guard glared at him.

Peyrac said nothing, but walked into the deserted hall, shaking his head.

You shouldn’t have let us in until you saw our IDs, M’Pelé hissed at him.

The shock was evident on the boy’s face. Oh no! he softly moaned.

M’Pelé read the guard’s name tag. Just relax Barthou. It’s alright. But I would say it was a nice learning moment.

The inexperienced Barthou nodded solemnly that he had learned his lesson. Um. I had to pick you up and take you with me.

Oh? Peyrac said gruffly. We were told that we had to visit a traffic victim.

Barthou didn’t really dare to say anything anymore; afraid he would do something wrong again. Well, um, it’s not really an, um… Or, yes, actually it is… Anyway, will you follow me please?

Peyrac looked at M’Pelé, gestured with his hands and head, ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

M’Pelé motioned back that they had better follow the young guard.

The young man walked shyly ahead of the detectives. Nervously, he glanced back every two steps to make sure the men were still following him. It’s this way, he said almost proudly.

That’s cool, lad, Peyrac grumbled.

M’Pelé chuckled. Typically something for Peyrac, he thought. An extra long shift and then end up with such a nitwit.

They left the half-dark central hall. Turned twice left and then right into a corridor until Peyrac, who had read the signs on the ceiling all along, asked, Where are we going Barthou? The emergency room is the other way.

Yes, I know. But we don’t have to go there.

Huh? It’s a traffic accident, isn’t it? Just brought in?

Yes, the young guard nodded very nervously. Yes. But…

Listen, lad, I’ve been on a ten-hour shift. And now my boss commanded me to pay a visit to the sick in the middle of the night, so I’d appreciate it if you were a little clearer, yes? Please, thank you!

Sorry, sorry, sorry…, Barthou quickly apologized. But, it’s a, um, a strange case. He ran even faster until he turned another corner in the otherwise dead quiet hospital and was stopped by a heavily armed man in army uniform. Barthou held up his staff card with a trembling hand. These are Messrs Emmanuel Peyrac and Neyman M’Pelé. I had to pick them up and take them directly to Commissioner Giraud.

Peyrac and M’Pelé looked at each other in surprise. Giraud? Is he here himself?

The man in uniform asked the two detectives to also show their ID.

Why are you here? Peyrac asked. The soldier did not answer his question; laboriously studied the IDs of both detectives and then made a movement with his automatic weapon to indicate that they could continue.

Nice talking to you, Peyrac grunted.

This way, Barthou continued. He pointed to a second soldier who was standing guard in front of a locked door. Above the door was a sign that read ‘Quarantine’.

My goodness, M’Pelé said. What kind of traffic accident can this be? Did that man hit a tank with chemical weapons or something with his old Deux Chevaux?

For the first time that night, Peyrac was able to smile again. You’d almost think so, he laughed.

At that moment the door opened behind the soldier. Commissioner Giraud came out with a man unknown to the detectives. Ah! You are here! the commissioner said with relief. Walk along with me. Then we’ll get some coffee and I’ll catch up with you right away.

The unknown man looked at them quizzically.

Detectives Emmanuel Peyrac and Neyman M’Pelé, the commissioner introduced them.

And…? Peyrac asked, nodding at the unknown man.

The man did not mention his name. See you in a minute, he said to the commissioner and walked back into the room.

Who is that? Peyrac said. And what are those green suits doing here?

Commissioner Giraud grabbed Peyrac by the shoulder, in the way only good friends do. Gently but forcefully pushed him into the hallway. We have a, um, special case…, he said. A strange situation, I might say.

Okay, Peyrac said. Let’s start with that blabbermouth. Who is he?

Michel Thiry, from DCRI.

"The DCRI? Direction Centrale du Renseignement Intérieur?" M’Pelé asked.

Yes, our own French intelligence service, Giraud confirmed.

Great, Peyrac said. Then I take it we’re done here and they’re taking over?

Giraud held up his index finger in a pedantic manner. That’s what they want. But not the way we’re going to do it!

Commissioner? M’Pelé asked. I am gradually becoming very curious about what kind of special traffic victim is in that room.

That’s the right word M’Pelé. Special; that is it. He looked proudly at the detectives. Very special. You know, if you two go and get that coffee, I’ll arrange for us to go in there later. Black and sugar for me…

Without further informing the weary detectives, the commissioner walked back down the hall to the now closed door where a heavily armed soldier stood guard.

3

2

"Sacrebleu, how can you even hold those cups? M’Pelé said to Peyrac. That coffee is damn hot."

You should use two paper cups, Neyman.

They had returned to the hallway where the stoically staring soldier was still blocking the room containing a mysterious patient admitted after a traffic accident. At least that was what Giraud had told them thus far.

Why will the DCRI be involved? M’Pelé said. He held up his coffee and blew cooling air across his fingers.

Right now, I’m only wondering why we are still needed here, Peyrac lamented. Except to arrange coffee for the big chief. He looked at the silent soldier. Would you have wanted something too?

The soldier did not respond.

Peyrac, insulted, put the coffee for Commissioner Giraud on the floor of the hall. Carefully took a sip of his own, still hot coffee; checked his smartwatch for email messages and then looked bored at his colleague. How long have we been waiting here? He does take the time, doesn’t he?

At that moment the door opened behind the soldier. Let them pass, Michel Thiry said, visibly irritated. He wanted to step aside to let the detectives in, but accidentally knocked over the cup intended for Giraud. The hot coffee flew against the trouser leg of the soldier who, except for a painful grin, was unresponsive. Annoyed, Thiry looked at the two men waiting in the hallway.

Sorry, Peyrac chuckled and slipped past the soldier’s hallway into the quarantine room, closely followed by his fellow detective.

Thiry hurried to stop the two men before they proceeded directly to the quarantine room. You wait here! He said to the soldier in the hallway: Two people from the ESA will be arriving in a moment, you can let them in right away.

The soldier nodded that he had understood the order.

ESA? M’Pelé asked.

Thiry didn’t answer. He tapped on the shuttered window of the quarantine room after which the image cleared and the two detectives could see what was going on inside. There were two people in sterile clothing walking around. One of these was Giraud. On a sort of operating table, a young man, about six feet tall, lay bare-chested. He appeared to be in a coma.

Are you finally going to tell us what’s going on? Peyrac asked.

Thiry looked at the people in the quarantine room. I can’t tell you much at this point.

Then I’ll be satisfied with the little bit that you can tell. Or maybe I should say the little bit you want to tell us?

A smile actually appeared on Thiry’s face. To start with that last item: I’d rather not tell you anything. Unfortunately, your supervisor has a different opinion.

Clear, M’Pelé said. We’re not here for fun either, so shall we get to the point and move on to item one?

Fine. Thiry turned, looked at both men and said, What you see here, you have not seen.

Peyrac looked demonstratively past Thiry into the quarantine room. Well, I’ve got to say it’s something very special to me too…

It sure is, Thiry said. But for the rest, you have to wait for the people from ESA to arrive.

And by ESA you mean…? M’Pelé asked.

The European Space Agency, Thiry said, almost scornfully.

Peyrac almost burst out laughing. My oh my, the DCRI, the ESA, who else is coming? The Secretary of the United Nations?

A comment that completely upset Thiry. He wanted to respond, but at that moment there was a knock on the door. The soldier standing guard in the hall opened the door and announced the two ESA employees. Sir, these are Antoinette Griezmann and Ronald Kuipers from the ESA.

Thiry welcomed his new guests and tapped the operating room window. Giraud! he cried. Your visitors are here.

Peyrac and M’Pelé looked at each other again. Had Giraud asked these people to come here?

Before leaving the quarantine room, Giraud looked one last time at the young man on the operating table. In his sterile clothing he walked out to meet his guests. Glad you could come so quickly, he said. Shall we start then, Mr Thiry?

Thiry tapped the window again. Video on! he said to the man next to the traffic victim. On a video screen on the wall behind the operating table, everyone could view the young man’s body in detail. "Would you