The Last President- The Complete Trilogy Read online

  Claire gathers her strength and orders her body to get up and running. She needs to get help, see if there are any survivors. But impossible, the door leading to the lower accesses is burning, she can't even hold the handle. It's like hell. She's thinking of Oumou, of all the others, trapped in the furnace.

  Everything's slowed down.

  Toxic black smoke filled the sky, spewed out of every opening in the red brick building. Helicopters from the civil security arrive from the air, causing grey swirls on both sides.

  She's alone on the roof. She's in pain.

  There's a loudspeaker talking to her. She must not move. They're coming to get her out of there. Lucidly, Claire knows she must get her phone back at all costs. She finally sees it, rushes barefoot over the embers and picks up what she finds of her things in her small purse. If the investigators found it, she would be accused of terrorism for sure because of the tracer.

  A ladder is stretched, a female fireman comes to get it, harnesses it securely.

  The fire soldier won't wait another second. She sticks an oxygen mask over his face. Claire's throat is black, like she ate coal.

  Suddenly it is deliverance, she feels her body become as light as a feather, stuck to that of the lifeguard who smiles at her and reassures her.

  — It's going to be okay, ma'am, just hold on to me. We're taking you to the hospital.

  She sees the brick building, on fire, flying through the air. She can still hear the sirens of the police, the fire brigade, the city hit in the heart.

  There will be few survivors.

  Claire is hoisted into the aircraft, safe, shocked, but alive. She doesn't let go of the rescuer, shakes her hand, reaching out to hurt her.

  We'll put a helmet over his ears.

  — Welcome aboard, we're gonna take you to Percy's military hospital. You've been very lucky.

  Claire thinks only of her children, of Benedict, who must be worried sick.

  Yeah, it's coming back to her, she was leaving him a message when the explosion occurred. She jumped in the air, and then she fell back down hard. Her bloody elbows hurt. Her whole body's waking up. The lifeguard is already cleaning her. She has soot everywhere, it sticks, it's greasy and dirty. She's in pain, it stings, it's the disinfectant. Claire is breathing harder and harder. Breathing makes her suffer. She can feel every alveolus in her blast-hit lungs.

  She hears the tremendous explosion again. Her ears are ringing. Her head suddenly hurts.

  — Try to relax, everything's gonna be fine, just lie still.

  The soldier smiles at him.

  She doesn't wear make-up, but her thin features and purple lips make her look like a serial superhero. Claire would like to close her eyes, but this strange moment out of time is painful and delicious at the same time. She has the impression of looking at herself, of seeing her life as she would appreciate a film, with the viewer's distance. It's her and it's not her. She looks like that woman lying down. All she suddenly feels is compassion for this lifeless body. Sadness, too, because she knows she's leaving behind a child and questions.

  — Commander, we're losing her! Defibrillator!

  The fire soldier is busy reviving this abandoned body.

  It's a landfill.

  Suddenly, the pain returns, Claire puts on her bruised body and comes back to life.

  Helicopter's landing. Nurses in white coats climb into the aircraft and lift its stretcher. Everyone around her is busy. She's clutching her purse, just like Lana would cling to her Doudou. She's taken to an emergency room for medical attention. Above her, the ceiling lights are flashing.

  She's doing well. We can take the mask off.

  — What's your name?

  — Claire Sautet.

  — Do you have any family to contact?

  — Yes, I'd like to call my husband.

  — Please, go ahead.

  — The others? How many dead?

  — Hundreds, it's a disaster.

  — The President?

  — No, she was in her car when it happened.

  — She was gone again?!

  — That's all I know, ma'am. We'll move you to a room, you can follow the news channels.

  A caretaker interrupts them.

  — Antony, we need you now! They're all coming!

  — I have to leave you, you're safe here. The wounded are coming. I'll come back for you.

  — Thank you. Thank you. Good luck...

  The intern's already left. Here she is alone again in this clean room, lit up with neon lights and the smell of disinfectant. She has to pee. But suddenly, she's taking a cold shower. Her left hand is shackled by handcuffs attached to the bars of the bed, like a vulgar warned.

  Chapter 14

  Claire is unconscious, but alive.

  Her body hurts like hell, but it's not broken. The bruising on her legs reminds her of her childhood. She knows that pain. She can control it. She hardly even feels it anymore. It's her friend. Claire's trying very hard to open her handcuffs. She can't stay here. They've already had to open her bag, take her cell phone, duplicate it. It's over for her. Why doesn't she have any record of her name? It's decided she needs to figure out a way out. She spots a drip, the metal bar, it could be a lever, but we have to move the bed. With the other hand, she moves it forward. On wheels, the bed moves inch by inch. The drip is getting closer. She rips it out, it falls with a crash, and dislocates. By reflex, she has only held on to the upper part, which has come off. No one came despite the noise. The entire hospital is in a state of absolute emergency.

  Suddenly, she sees a policeman in uniform in the corridor through the doorway. She's a policewoman. We show her the room. By instinct, Claire hides the metal tip under the sheets and goes back to bed.

  The policewoman comes in.

  — Madame Sautet? Claire Sautet?

  — Yeah, well...

  — Is that any of your business?

  The policewoman shows him her purse.

  — Yeah, well...

  — I put them here, be careful, even Percy's got robberies.

  Claire is moving her left arm, shackled in handcuffs.

  — Ha? Don't worry, I'll take them off as soon as I get confirmation. It's a matter of security. You're one of the few survivors. Everyone's a suspect.

  — This is ridiculous! And I have to pee!

  — I understand, relax, it won't be long now.

  Suddenly, the policewoman's cell phone rings, she walks out into the hallway again.

  — Wait, it's not getting good reception. Yes, yes, of course.

  Claire, drop the metal tip as quietly as you can on the floor. If the cops find her with that, she's going straight to jail, or worse.

  The policewoman hangs up and turns to Claire.

  — Well, you see, it wasn't that long... relax. I'll take them off for you.

  — Thank you. Thank you.

  — Good luck with that.

  — Has it been claimed?

  — No... no, not yet. Good luck, I leave you, you're in the best hospital in France.

  — My family, when can I reach them? Can you give me my cell phone? It's in my bag.

  The policewoman's going through his things.

  — I don't know, ma'am, I don't see it. You must have lost it in the explosion. Check with the caretakers, they'll bring you some supplies for your family.

  — Your phone, can I use it?

  — I... I'm not allowed, technically you're still under surveillance...

  — But he's my husband!

  — Well... okay. But make it quick.

  She makes her home phone ring, we pick it up right away.

  — It's me. It's me.

  — My darling! I was so scared.

  Benedict can no longer speak, strangled by emotion.

  — I'm fine. I'm fine. I was very lucky. I was on the roof.

  — Were you there?! What the hell were you doing at Desrivières HQ?!

  — I'll tell you... a contest of circumstanc
e.

  — You're going home?

  — No, I have to stay here. Trust me. Trust me.

  — Come inside, please. Come inside, please.

  — I'll let you know. Don't worry, kids, I'm fine. I love you, whatever happens, I love you. Do you hear me?

  — Yeah, don't talk to me like that, promise me you'll come home.

  — No... I'm staying, trust me.

  — All right, all right, all right, all right.

  The policewoman signals him to stop.

  — I'll talk to you later. I gotta go.

  Claire hangs up and gives the phone back to the policewoman.

  — Thank you, that feels good.

  — Don't tell anyone.

  — You can count on me.

  — Good luck, I gotta go.

  Claire's alone again. Alone, but free.

  Chapter 15

  Claire sits on her bed, tries to get up. She tries to find her balance, walking barefoot, hanging on to the walls, to the toilet, in the corridor. She wanders around in her evening dress, dirty and shocked.

  Suddenly something vibrates in the very discreet pocket of her dress.

  That's her phone. How could she forget she put it there? She couldn't forget. She had it in her hand the whole time. It's probably in the helicopter, but it doesn't matter. Claire has ninety-six missed messages and a hundred and thirty texts.

  Claire finally finds the toilet, sees her face in the mirror, disfigured by fear, dishevelled, but alive, bloody alive.

  The relief is intense. The feeling of finally landing, after being suspended from a rope. The satisfaction of this primary need is a deliverance, for body and mind.

  Claire washes her hands, arms, neck, face. She is passing water in her hair, on her eyebrows.

  Suddenly his phone vibrates. Text message from Pierre.

  "Go see Dr. Marc Cohen, third floor, he's waiting for you. Cheer up. »

  Chapter 16

  Claire's putting her phone away.

  Her naked footsteps lead her down the back stairs. Suddenly, a running nurse asks her what she's doing there, what she's looking for, if she's one of the wounded in the attack.

  — Yeah, I have to go see Dr. Marc Cohen on the third floor.

  — Of course, follow me.

  The nursing sister has a walkie-talkie and warns that she's going up to the third floor.

  — You're lucky to be alive and relatively healthy, but we're gonna do some more tests.

  — How many dead?

  — Over two hundred and fifty, a hundred and twenty wounded, and it's still happening. This is the worst attack since the insurgency began. I wonder when our media will dare to call it a Revolution!

  — President Desrivières was also lucky.

  — Yeah, she was in her armored car when it happened. We almost lost our Head of State again, it's time to put an end to all this extremist vermin!

  — Right or left?

  — They're the same! They want to kill the Republic! But I didn't sign up for France. They want war, they'll have it.

  — You're talking about citizens here, not belligerents.

  — I swore an oath to fight the enemies on the outside, and on the inside, but... How can you talk like that, you're a victim too, you're not going to defend them?! Come, Madam, you're still in shock, we've arrived. Hang in there. Wait here, Dr. Cohen will see you now.

  The door slams.

  Claire sits in a little chair. She is in a classic office, except for the colours of the French flag which remind us that we are in a military hospital. Suddenly, another door opens and between an elderly man with grey hair, looking worried.

  — Hi Claire, it's nice to meet you. Pierre warned me, I'm his ally and nobody here is listening to us. I'm going to check you out and give you a pick-me-up. Speak without constraint. What did you see? Or heard?

  — You mean, if I saw people of questionable behavior at HQ? No... Of course not... Only young people... But... Yes it was strange, now I remember.

  — Yes, I'm listening to you," he says, listening to his heart with the stethoscope on his back.

  — There were no government officials, except the Keeper of the Seals, I am told. No one except Desrivières, who got away with it.

  — Yeah, everyone's talking about a miracle.

  — The Minister of Justice is dead?

  — Yeah, well, for now he's missing, but there's little chance he's alive. And you're right, he was the only one from the government to be there and die... and he was one of us.

  — I'm afraid I understand.

  — You understood perfectly well. Please turn around.

  — It's Operation False Flag, bitch. Ouch.

  The doctor just injected him with a high-vitamin cocktail in his buttock.

  — She won't back down from anything or anyone. Article 16 is maintained indefinitely. And it will do everything it can to hold elections in three months' time as well. We had a doubt, now it's certain she'll be elected. The French love survivors, and the heroes they save will be their saviors.

  — Man, what's in the syringe?

  — Anything you give a soldier to run around on a battlefield. We're at war, Mrs. Sautet.

  Suddenly, the phone vibrates. Masked call. It's the sixth time it's rung without leaving a message since the consultation began.

  — Answer, it may be important.

  — Hello?

  — Hello, this is the Chief of Staff of the President of the French Republic, the President would like to reach you immediately, please hold on.

  — ...fuck!

  Dr. Cohen is as surprised as Claire is. He's trying to reassure her.

  — Stay calm, I'm right beside you.

  After a short wait of a few seconds and a background of chamber music, the President picks up the phone.

  — Claire? I'm so glad you're alive! How are you feeling?

  — Well, ma'am, shocked...

  — I'll be blunt, I need you. There's an unmarked Elysée de l'Elysée car already waiting for you downstairs in the hospital. Please get in it. I'll see you in half an hour. Cheer up, my dear.

  Claire's putting her phone away. She's turned around, no shoes, still feels dirty, and now she can't turn back.

  — You have to go, you have to find her now. Pierre gave this to me for you. We were going to use it later, but this is your mission now. You have to put this rosette on the President's suit, replacing the one she's already wearing. This pin contains an ultra-powerful transmitter linked to an encrypted cloud. As soon as you put it down, get the hell out of there, it'll send the latest instructions over your phone.

  — But where am I supposed to go?

  — In Brittany I don't know more. Go on, get going! Don't keep her waiting. And thank you, thank you for France.

  — I'm doing it to see my ex-husband again, and to save my family.

  — You still love him.

  — I don't know, I just want to see him again, that's all.

  Chapter 17

  Claire goes down the service stairs four at a time. A black man, six feet tall, hands her a pass and a grey briefcase.

  — Hello Madam, you will find in this briefcase some clean things and here is the pass of the Elysée Palace, never leave it. It's your life insurance.

  — I need to take a shower.

  — It's planned, I'll take you there, follow me.

  Claire, barefoot, follows the imposing colossus to a dark, unmarked sedan with tinted windows. She climbs in the back.

  — The air conditioning isn't too loud? You have water next to you.

  — No... I'm fine thanks.

  Through the window, dozens and dozens of fire trucks park in front of the hospital, projecting their blue beams into the night.

  It's a dark night. Claire, however, only thinks about her mission. This small object to be replaced is a door to find Erwan. She has the key. She can't back out now. Suddenly, doubt and fear assail her. What if she's been manipulated all along? What if he's rea
lly dead? What if they've taken a lookalike and Pierre is lying to her. She doesn't know anymore. Her head is spinning.

  — Ma'am, is everything all right?

  — Yes, yes... I'm going to get some water after all.

  The car drives fast, very fast, to reach the center of Paris, by the quays.

  The whole Elysée district is completely sealed off by the army. Sandbags at every intersection, surface-to-air missiles, security barriers.

  Here the civil war is a reality.

  The whole district is plunged into total darkness so as not to be spotted from the sky.

  The sedan drives over the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, passes the shackles, and continues its idle run to stop at number fifty-five.

  After a final check, the sedan rushes into the square courtyard.

  — We've arrived, ma'am.

  Claire gets out of the car that parked in front of the Elysée Palace. She raises her eyes to the sky. Strangely, it's beautiful, she can see hundreds of stars.

  — Curfew is good, and not where my dear Claire expected it to be.

  It is Michèle herself who stands there in front of her and welcomes her home.

  — Look at this palace, in the darkness there are only night lights and dimmed light. I can't tell you how old he is. You'd almost think, without the lights and the usual noise of the city, we'd be back under Louis XIV...

  — Louis XVI, you mean.

  — Haha, I see the attack didn't make you lose your sense of repartee. That's good, that's just the feather I need. I need to dress up, in your words. The great couturiers dress my body, you have carte blanche!

  — Before I'd like to take a shower...

  — Of course... I'll give you a tour of the owner.

  — From the tenant...

  — You're perfect, follow me.

  Claire enters through the large bay window, climbs the white marble stairs and follows a Huissier de la République.

  — Follow him, I'll meet you in the kitchen.