Chapter 12: Clues
As a few members of the Black Sheep Gang were talking, they heard a commotion not far off—someone seemed to be robbing a person in broad daylight.
The Royal Guards immediately rushed over, simultaneously shouting a warning: "Get down now, or we are authorized to shoot you!"
Two thugs from the Hoss Gang ignored them completely, striking down their victim with a single slash before turning and fleeing into an alley.
These royal guards were vastly different from the poorly equipped police; each carried a musket and wore a cuirass.
They immediately fanned out, raising their muskets and taking aim. The leader bellowed once more: "Last warning, get down immediately!"
The robbers, however, made an insulting gesture behind them, laughing wildly as they ran even faster. In their experience, as long as they were bold and swift, neither the police nor anyone else could stop them.
This time, however, they faced France's most elite guards.
"Fire!" With the leader's command, five muskets discharged simultaneously. The two thugs in the distance were thrown forward by the shots, large, palm-sized holes appearing on their backs, gushing blood.
The precise marksmanship and terrifying decisive force sent shivers down the spines of the Black Sheep Gang members.
The Crown Prince's guards swept through the entire Saint-Antoine district like an invincible beast. Just after 10 AM, six gang members had already met their end by their bullets. The two gangs, previously arrogant and stirring up trouble everywhere, immediately withered.
This was Joseph's order to the guard: if they encountered anyone committing a crime and couldn't apprehend them, they were to shoot them on sight! Desperate times called for desperate measures; if he didn't use bloodshed to deter these gang members, who knew how many more citizens would die. This was an era of monarchy, after all; nobody could talk about criminals' personal rights—he had no room for bleeding hearts!
The Hoss Gang's leader huddled in his hideout, watching the tall, imposing Royal Guards march down the street through a gap in the curtains. Their presence made his eyelids twitch involuntarily.
The door to his room was frequently knocked upon, bringing news from his subordinates about gang members being arrested or killed.
That day alone, he had lost seventeen of his men, and his heart bled. 'I'm just a thug,' he thought, 'is it really necessary to call in the army to suppress me?'
The Black Sheep Gang reacted a bit faster, pulling their men back by noon, losing only about a dozen people.
For the next two days, no serious crimes occurred in the Saint-Antoine district. Although Similion's compensation was generous, the Royal Guards truly meant business; what good was earning a lot of money if you weren't alive to spend it?
The news of the gangs lowering their flags and silencing their drums reached the police station, and everyone was thrilled, praising the Crown Prince's decisiveness and methods, as well as the Royal Guards' formidable might.
Joseph paid no mind to the flurry of flattering compliments. He knew perfectly well that the guards had only temporarily deterred the gang members with their thunderous display of force. Before long, these gangs would find loopholes, as the guards were unfamiliar with the area and lacked expertise in criminal investigation.
Furthermore, many members of the guard were titled knights; having them continuously patrol the streets would quickly lead to flagging morale and slackness.
One could not spend a thousand days guarding against thieves for every day a thief committed a crime. Unless the mastermind behind this chaos was uncovered, major incidents would inevitably recur.
Public Security Inspector Arden knocked and entered, bowing. "Your Highness," he reported, "we've interrogated everyone we apprehended. They're all small fries, but many of them mentioned that for every job they pulled off, their leader received one thousand Livres, and they also got a significant cut."
Joseph frowned inwardly. These fellows were indeed committing crimes for money. One thousand Livres per job? This mastermind truly had deep pockets!
He instructed Arden to interrogate them more thoroughly. Just then, a military officer from the guard strode in, saluting respectfully.
"Your Highness," he announced, "my men just apprehended a man named Valéan. His identity seems to be significant..."
"Valéan?" Arden, standing nearby, immediately exclaimed with excitement. "He's the second-in-command of the Black Sheep Gang! How did you manage to catch him?!"
The officer replied, "He was brawling with someone in a casino. When I led my team there, he tried to escape. My men shot three of his subordinates; if he hadn't identified himself, he likely would have been killed too."
Arden swallowed, feeling a pang of pity for the Black Sheep Gang thugs, then turned to Joseph.
"Your Highness, Valéan might know something. I'll go interrogate him right away!"
Less than an hour later, Marconi rushed back, not even bothering to wipe the blood splattered on him, and presented a confession to Joseph.
"Your Highness, it's been a major breakthrough!"
Joseph read the Black Sheep Gang leader's confession: a man named Raymond had paid them handsomely to create chaos, one thousand Livres per incident. A month later, whoever—they or the Hoss Gang—caused more trouble would receive an additional twenty thousand Livres.
He frowned slightly. "What does this Raymond do?"
Arden shook his head, but the police clerk next to him gasped. "He's Mr. Similion's cousin."
"Similion?" Joseph felt the name sounded familiar.
The clerk replied, "He's the former Police Commissioner of this district."
Joseph suddenly understood. No wonder nearly a hundred police officers had taken leave simultaneously; their former superior was the mastermind. Everything made sense now.
Arden, having been promoted from the former civilian Patrol Team, didn't quite grasp these intricate schemes. He looked at Joseph with an inquisitive gaze. "Your Highness, should we arrest Similion?"
Joseph was about to nod when he suddenly remembered something. He asked the clerk, "Excuse me, what was Similion's previous salary?"
"It should have been thirty Livres a month, Your Highness."
"Does he come from a prominent family?"
"No, Your Highness. Mr. Similion's father was apparently a minor Civil Servant, and their family background was ordinary."
Joseph narrowed his eyes. "At his salary, it would take him over fifty years to save twenty thousand Livres. Where did he get such a large sum of money?"
Arden paused, surprised. "Are you implying?"
Joseph slowly stated, "There must be someone else instructing him."
Arden pondered for a moment. "Your Highness, I recall Valéan mentioning that Raymond showed them a deposit slip for twenty thousand Livres to prove his ability to pay. It was from the Havrei Bank."
"This could be an important clue." Joseph nodded, taking out a map to examine it. He discovered that Havrei was a small bank with only two branches in Paris.
"Viscount Eman, you and Arden..." He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "Never mind, I'll go myself."
At the Havrei Bank branch closer to the city hall, the bank manager initially refused to allow an audit. It wasn't until Joseph revealed his identity and threatened to have the Secret Police investigate if they didn't cooperate, that the manager finally conceded.
Similion's accounts were simple, showing only a few transactions here: he had cashed a thirty-thousand Livre draft and then deposited the money into the bank in several installments, one of which was exactly twenty thousand Livres.
Joseph inwardly sighed at the era's weak awareness of financial tracking. Then he obtained the most crucial information: the payer of that draft was Viscount Guizot, the Commissioner of Police for Paris!
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