Chapter 14: The Net Closes
Chapter 14: The Net Closes
Guizot's face stiffened. He glared at Valéan. "Control your man! What is he blathering about?"
The carriage suddenly halted. Valéan offered a smile more pathetic than a cry, turning slightly. Only then did Guizot see the dagger pressed against the small of his back.
Guizot's pupils constricted. He lunged up, reaching for the carriage door handle, but the lean man was faster. The moment Guizot's backside lifted from the seat, a hand clamped around his neck, pinning him back against the cushion.
Guizot struggled violently, screaming hysterically,
"Let go of me! I am the Commissioner of Police for Paris! You have no evidence; you cannot arrest me!"
The silent man seated to Valéan's right suddenly spoke up:
"I, Ambroise de Hermann, have witnessed everything that transpired, representing Her Majesty the Queen. I can testify to your guilt."
The carriage door was opened from the outside. Arden and a police officer stood there, aiming their pistols at Guizot, their expressions indignant. "I was driving just now. We heard everything, and we can both testify!"
In the open square of the Saint-Antoine district police station, Joseph watched as large contingents of police officers ran past in formation, nodding to them repeatedly. The officers responded with thunderous shouts and slogans.
Arden was highly excited, still rambling on to the Crown Prince about the morning's events, unable to stop:
"Viscount Antoine's men were waiting at the street corner and took Guizot away directly. I imagine he's gone to the Secret Poli... *ahem*, to the Royal Police interrogation rooms. I followed another team to search Guizot's home, and when I noticed a slight bulge near the headboard, I knew something was amiss. We broke it open and, sure enough, found a secret compartment..."
Joseph had already heard the story once, so he smiled and said, "And then you found that notebook. You've performed a great service this time."
Guizot's notebook contained intelligence on the major gangs and numerous criminals in the Saint-Antoine district. The final pages detailed Guizot's records of providing protection and collecting illicit money from these individuals.
Joseph immediately mobilized all his police forces and, with the cooperation of his own guard, followed the leads directly to the criminals' lairs.
The Saint-Antoine district was in for an extremely turbulent day. Members of various gangs and criminals, caught off guard, were chased frantically through the streets. Many were quickly subdued by riot control forks, while a few who resisted fiercely met with bullets.
The arrests continued for two days. Upon receiving the news, citizens conscientiously stayed indoors to cooperate with the police operations. Some even bravely took up sticks and helped the police block criminals at street corners.
The cells of the Saint-Antoine district police station were quickly overflowing, and subsequent criminals were sent to the Bastille.
Such a large-scale operation attracted journalists from almost all over Paris, eager to investigate.
On Rue de l'Iris Blanc, a disheveled middle-aged man with deep nasolabial folds and a profound expression, as if perpetually contemplating life, frowned as he gazed across the street. A detachment of Royal Guards was passing by, leading seven or eight dejected individuals, their hands bound, heads bowed, and mouths and noses stained with blood.
The young man beside him said nervously, "Monsieur Marat, you really didn't need to come yourself. It seems quite dangerous here..."
"It's fine," Marat waved him off. "Without being present at the scene, one can never truly uncover the truth!"
He strode into a grocery store, bought a few random items, and pointed at the distant Royal Guards, asking the shopkeeper, "Do you know what they're doing? Arresting political prisoners?"
The shopkeeper shot him an annoyed look. "Political prisoners, you say? Those are members of the Viper Gang, and they've never done an honest day's work in their lives!"
As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a scar. "See this? The Viper Gang did this to me last year. Before the Crown Prince brought in the new police force, they used to extort 5 livres from me every month! May God bless the Crown Prince; now these despicable bastards are finally caught! From now on, I'll have money to buy butter for my children!"
Marat habitually pulled out his notebook and began writing. "Could you tell me about this new police force?"
"Of course." The shopkeeper put down his work, sizing him up. "You're a journalist, aren't you? Haha, could you write my thanks to the Crown Prince in your newspaper?"
"Ah? Y-yes, I can..."
After chatting for a while, Marat, his head full of praises for the Crown Prince, left the grocery store with a look of suspicion. He stopped a passerby on the street, asking again what the police and guards were doing.
He received an answer similar to the shopkeeper's.
After interviewing seven or eight people consecutively, visiting the security post on Rue de l'Iris Blanc, and even directly questioning the arrested criminals, he finally began to believe that the Royal Family had actually done something truly beneficial for the common people!
This was completely abnormal!
In his memory, the Royal Family and the great nobles had always only oppressed and bullied the populace. This was absolutely the first time they had eliminated a public menace without even levying additional fees on the people.
But he was a man who respected facts. After acquiring a wealth of firsthand interview material, he immediately returned to his inn and penned tomorrow's headline: "Crown Prince's Police Reforms Show Remarkable Results, Eradicating the Roots of Crime in Saint-Antoine in One Stroke."
...
Several dark grey carriages traveled along the north bank of the Seine River toward Versailles.
Inside the middle carriage, Joseph coughed, feeling as if he were sitting on a pile driver, his body nearly shaken to pieces.
He rubbed his throbbing forehead, thinking, 'I need to get coil spring suspension installed quickly, and ideally tires too. I'll be riding in carriages a lot in the future; I don't want to be shaken into an early grave by these contraptions.'
Yesterday, he had received a commendation letter from the cabinet, praising his achievement in clearing out the criminals from the Saint-Antoine district in one sweep, and instructing him to return to Versailles to report on his duties. It bore the seals of the King and Queen.
Joseph chuckled to himself, shaking his head. 'Reporting on duties after just over twenty days in office? I must have set a new record. Most likely, the King and Queen simply missed their son and found an excuse to have me return.'
However, this perfectly aligned with his own plans.
Joseph had no intention of remaining in the Police Bureau indefinitely. His primary goal had always been to salvage France's finances, preventing national bankruptcy and the risk of being beheaded by a mob.
He could use this success in combating crime as leverage to request the position of Assistant to the Minister of Finance from the Queen. Then, let's see what excuses the cabinet members would come up with to oppose him.
It must be said that achieving such significant results in the Saint-Antoine district owed a debt of gratitude to Guizot.
If he hadn't spent tens of thousands of livres to create chaos, Joseph wouldn't have been able to launch a "crackdown on crime" operation that shook all of Paris.
Joseph's gaze swept over the few pages in his hand.
They were Guizot's confession and interrogation records, sent by the Secret Police.
From these, he learned that his reorganization of the police force had interfered with the Police Bureau's practice of selling police positions for profit, thus provoking such furious retaliation from Guizot.
Spurred by those twenty thousand livres, the gang members in the Saint-Antoine district had killed a dozen or so citizens in just a few days, injuring many more. The situation had nearly spiraled out of control.
Joseph couldn't help but take a deep breath. 'If Similion hadn't lacked awareness of financial counter-intelligence, I would certainly have been in a terrible fix, and the police reforms might even have fallen by the wayside.'
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