page 24 le patriarche 25

was at the office at 8am. 8am this was too early for Thomas, but he wondered if it would have more early or late, or just the echoes of an endless life...

The superintendent arrived early as well.

- I suppose you want to take care of the investigation?

Thomas hesitated for a moment. He looked nowhere for a few seconds, surprised that the superintendent ask him so directly, then he looked his chief comfortably seated behind his perfectly cleaned and ordered desk.

- Yes. Yes... This is better like that.

- If you can find rapidly an assassin and put him in jail, I would be graceful.

- Yes, boss, of course, I will do my best.

"An assassin", as if any one would fit, as if the only important thing would be what people believe, and that no one really care about the truth... Thomas stood up and leaved the office without any salute to his boss. He went to the coffee machine, but ten in a row would not be enough to help Thomas having any clue this morning. He was sharing his office with Stéphane and Éric. Éric was on holidays.

- You could bring me one!

Stéphane spoke to Thomas joking, Thomas did not even notice it and answered without conviction :

- Sorry, I am a bit preoccupied

- I understand. Are you in charge of the investigation?

- Yes.

- Do you really thing this is a good idea?

- I have no clue.

- I'll help you anyway, but if you find it too hard just ask me. You can take some days off maybe, so that I can

clear the ground.

- No, thank you, it's ok, but in case I will not hesitate.

Stéphane went to take a coffee, Thomas leaned against his desk, without removing all the stuffs which nearly fall down, sustaining his arm to sip his coffee watching through the window. He was lost, lost. He didn't want to do the investigation, he knew that, but did he have the choice? He wanted to forget, forget everything. But what on earth was he going to find?

- Does he give you the data from the security branch?

He didn't even heard Séphane coming back. He turned round and put down his coffee, which was far too hot, between the keyboard of his computer, which should have already receive at least twenty coffees, it loved that, repeated Thomas each times, and the pile of papers, cards, scribbled notebooks, which were delimiting the few available square centimeters of his desk. He seated down and look to Stéphane :

- No, does he have them?

Stéphane walked round his desk, which was to the right of the Thomas's one, and a bit smaller, he had been added afterward, but far more well-ordered.

- If I remember correctly he said to me yesterday that they did not have found anything, but that they should have the complete files this morning.

But they had not. Nothing, nothing at all. The security branch did not find anything. Name, fingerprints, or pictures did not give anything. Seth has no address, no birthday, has never worked anywhere. Seth Imah was not known, was not French, nor European, and, as they would discover two days later, did not exist in any country of Interpol, not with that name, at least. But the searches based on the pictures, which lasted more, would not give anything neither.