Commissaire Marquanteur And The Light Fighters Of Marseille: France Crime Thriller

By Alfred Bekker

Commissaire Marquanteur And The Light Fighters Of Marseille: France Crime Thriller

by Alfred Bekker

 

 

 

The team around Commissaire Marquanteur has a new case.

Who kills the criminals that the police have to release again despite charges? In Marseille, panic spreads in the underworld milieu, because the gaps that arise are apparently not filled by a rival gang. FoPoCri also searches in vain at first - until a colleague is killed and new leads emerge.

 

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 Jenny Bannister. He has also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden, and Janet Farell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Apr 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215263990

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

Bonjour, I said. My name is Commissaire Pierre Marquanteur, Marseille CID, Special Branch. And I have a few questions for you. I was in the Les Baumettes correctional facility.

The man sitting across from me was covered all over with tattoos. He had been a bouncer in the Pointe-Rouge entertainment district. Because he had thrown someone out too violently, he was now sitting here. The person in question had died. The prisoner's real name was Jacques Malinois. But in Pointe-Rouge he had always been known as Queequeg-Jacques. Queequeq - like the tattooed harpoonist in Moby Dick.

Queequeg-Jacques had good ears. He heard everything, and many people told him many things. That's why it was sometimes worth listening to him if you wanted to learn something.

So that's you, he said.

Yes, I am.

I mean: you're the guy the Albanian's targeting, from what I hear.

That's what you hear, I confirmed.

The Albanian was a well-known professional killer. No one knew his true identity. But I had been warned. Someone had given the Albanian the order to kill me. Someone who wanted to take revenge on me. Someone, perhaps, whom I had brought to Les Baumettes and who simply could not forgive me. Someone with a lot of money in the background, of course, because the Albanian was not cheap.

Of course, I was interested in who had hired the Albanian.

And Queequeg-Jacques claimed to have something to say about it.

I heard that this Ukrainian was behind it: Selnikov. I think the name means something to you.

Oligarch Vlad?

Exactly: oligarch Vlad. Is a nasty sock. You know, people like oligarch Vlad or these Chechen pigs drive away the good old pimps who still had respect and don't kill anyone without a reason. They don't need a reason.

Always a matter of perspective.

Yes.

What makes you think that this Selnikov is behind it?

"I heard it. Just as I heard that someone had set a killer named The Albanian on a CID man named Marquanteur. I suggest you see that you get Selnikov out of circulation somehow. Then you'll be rid of the problem with The Albanian, too."

Thanks for the tip, I said.

It was not that simple.

After all, Vladimir Selnikov's Marseilles business was pretty clean on the outside. Our measures usually rolled off like grease on Teflon.

I'm doing this completely altruistically, Queequeg-Jacques said. Unfortunately, after all, I still have to spend a little time here at Les Baumettes. I don't want any perks, and I also know that I can hardly expect to be released early for good behavior or anything.

So why are you helping me?

Because of colleagues, he said. I don't like people like oligarch Vlad. They have no honor, you know?

He could not tell me anything more concrete.

What's strange is that I never had anything to do with Selnikov.

Maybe not directly.

Well.

Maybe you just disrupted his business because you arrested someone important to him that you didn't even know belonged to him.

Maybe I should actually ask Selnikov a few questions.

At that time, I did not know that Monsieur Selnikov would no longer be able to answer them ...

*

I left the Les Baumettes detention center. Before I could get into the official car I was here in, the vehicle exploded. A bomb tore it apart.

It would not have taken much ...

I wonder if it was the Albanian?

Probably.

A day later, I learned that Queequeg-Jacques had been strangled in his cell. I would have liked to ask Oligarch Vlad about that, too.

It did not happen again.

*

The men were wearing blue overalls and had toolboxes in their hands. One was tall, had short-cropped blond hair, and his face looked angular and brutish. The other guy was dark-haired, broad-shouldered and stocky.

The blond had sunk his right hand into the pocket of his overalls. His fist clutched the hard steel of an automatic with attached silencer.

The two men exchanged a quick glance as they exited the elevator. Then they walked down the corridor toward the apartment door of a penthouse.

A huge guy stood in front of the door. His bodybuilder figure almost burst the gray flannel suit.

The face was a contourless mask that remained completely motionless.

He raised his arms, and the bulge that appeared under his shoulder as he did so showed that he was carrying a gun under his jacket.

Stop! said the giant, and the two men in overalls stopped a few steps in front of him.

We want to see Mr. Selnikov, said the blond. About the heater.

The giant's eyes became narrow slits. His face contorted slightly. His features expressed slight mistrust.

They're early, he commented.

Mr. Selnikov is expecting us.

Then please put your hands up so I can pat you down. Very slowly, set the toolboxes down on the floor and open those things.

The blond frowned.

What are you doing?

Order of Monsieur Selnikov. No one gets in here who hasn't been thoroughly searched! So, don't make any trouble.

The blond took a deep breath while the squatty man was already setting down his toolbox and starting to open the latches.

The giant at the door watched him closely.

At that moment it happened.

The movements of the blond overall wearer seemed to explode, he pulled out the automatic, was at the giant in front of the door with one step and pressed the silencer under his chin even before the bodyguard could react.

The giant froze into a pillar of salt.

He was smart enough to know that he didn't stand a chance at that moment and it was best to do nothing now.

The squatty man had now also brought out his gun. He also approached the giant, reached under his jacket and brought out his pistol.

For a split second, it occurred to the giant to kill the blond with a well-aimed hand edge blow. He could do it, had trained it for a long time. But the risk was too great, there were two of the others, the stocky one would shoot immediately, and one would not even hear the shot inside the penthouse. Drops of sweat formed on the giant's forehead.

You lead the way, the blond overall carrier ordered, and his voice was like the hiss of a cobra.

The giant slowly turned around.

Almost provocatively slow, considering the position he was in. The silencer was now pressed into his neck.

Whatever you're up to, it's a mistake, the giant said, but his voice sounded brittle as he said it, because he knew he didn't stand a chance. He was dealing with professionals and that meant they would certainly not let him live. That was the way the game went. The giant had played it himself.

Shut up! the blond replied coldly.

You can talk about anything, and Mr. Selnikov ...

Shut up! And open door!

2

The blond pushed the giant in front of him, still pressing the gun into his neck.

The squatty man closed the door behind them.

The light-flooded penthouse apartment with the fantastic view of the lake park was very spacious and had several rooms.

In the reception room there was a modern sitting area.

Futuristic design. Lots of plastic in curved shapes, but little upholstery.

A man sat there, he could have been the twin of the giant, at least in terms of physique. However, he was red-haired.

Heh! What's the ... He looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, then jumped up, reaching under his jacket.

He reacted quickly, but still not quickly enough.

He had not yet pulled out the gun when a noise sounded like a forceful sneeze.

The shot of a silencer weapon.

A red dot formed on the redhead's forehead, the bodyguard was thrown back into the futuristic armchair. His arms fell to his sides, the gun slipped from his powerless hand, fell to the floor, the soft carpet cushioned the impact.

Where is he? the blond asked the giant he was still holding at gunpoint. He whispered it so softly it could barely be heard. His crony, the stocky black-haired man, had shot the other bodyguard. His gun also had a silencer.

Where is he? the blond repeated.

Who?

Selnikov.

Don't ... don't know.