Chapter 55: The True and False Fouché
Not only did entering the bank require inspection, but with these scruffy police officers standing guard at the entrance, no one was willing to approach Laville Bank.
The entire morning, the bank didn't make a single transaction.
Of course, the supposed robbers never showed up either.
The bank manager couldn't bear it any longer. He approached the corpulent police officer, a smile plastered on his face, and said, "Officer, sir, I believe the robbers might have given up..."
The stout officer's eyes widened. "How do you know the robbers have given up? Are you perhaps in contact with them?"
"No, no, absolutely not!" The manager flinched, then added with a bitter expression, "But with you standing here, the robbers won't dare come, but neither will our customers."
"That's none of my concern. If I don't stand here and you get robbed, my salary will suffer."
Hearing this, the manager understood. He turned around, retrieved a pouch of silver coins, quietly slipped it into the stout officer's hand, and whispered, "Regarding your salary, I can offer you some compensation."
The stout officer's heart leaped with joy—ever since being transferred to the "daily affairs team," he'd spent over half a month dredging river silt and didn't even have a police uniform.
After accepting the money, he remained standing. The manager grew anxious. "I've already compensated your salary, so you can go back and rest."
"How can I do that?" The stout officer declared with a righteous expression. "You've been so good to me, I certainly can't let any robbers harm you!"
The manager, exasperated, sent someone to notify the general manager, Étienne.
Étienne then attempted to bribe the police himself, but it was still useless, so he had no choice but to continue reporting to the board of directors...
Meanwhile, the situation at Laborde Bank was the same. A group of police officers had set up a perimeter, "protecting" the bank so thoroughly that not even a fly could get in.
The next day, the police claimed to have received a tip that the robbers might be digging a tunnel to steal from the vault. So, they hired people to dig a ring of pits over four meters deep around the bank, ostensibly to search for tunnels.
No tunnels were found, of course, and the bank naturally had to pay the construction costs.
For three consecutive days, both banks were so disrupted that not a single customer dared to enter. The bank executives went to protest to Commissioner of Police Bessançon, but the response they received was, "For your safety, please cooperate."
Nearing noon, a reporter arrived at Laville Bank for an interview. Before he could even speak, the stout officer pulled him aside and mysteriously recounted a lengthy tale.
He spoke of how, during a raid on gang members in the Saint-Antoine district, secret letters linking them to foreign brigands were discovered, and how an Ottoman gang had infiltrated Paris, vowing not only to rob this bank but also to slaughter everyone inside...
The reporter, not expecting such explosive news, immediately excitedly handed the stout officer a few silver coins and rushed back to the newspaper office to write his article.
Soon, Paris was abuzz with talk of the Ottoman gang. Citizens avoided the two banks as if they were the devil, not daring to go within 30 meters, fearing they might be caught in the crossfire if the gang made a move.
Joseph had no idea that Bessançon had sent men to "teach the banks a lesson."
When he left the Paris Police Academy and returned to Versailles Palace, an unassuming middle-aged man was already waiting for him. He was short, wore a somewhat worn gray coat, had thinning hair, and a plain-faced appearance.
It took Joseph a few seconds to recall his name, and he smiled, "Captain Prosper, what brings you here? Is there news about that matter?"
This unremarkable man was one of the three high-ranking spies the Minister of War had promised to Joseph, having arrived in Paris two days prior.
Given the communication and transportation conditions of that era, he was still the earliest to arrive. Half of the spies allocated by the Minister of War were still en route.
Prosper bowed respectfully, and in a somewhat hoarse voice, said, "Your Highness, I have found the person you requested."
"That quickly?" Joseph was somewhat surprised.
In this era, let alone a database of urban residents, there wasn't even a complete household register. Yet, this man had managed to find someone in just two days, based solely on a name and a few characteristics. He truly lived up to his reputation as an ace spy, one whom even Saint-Priest was reluctant to part with.
"It's nothing. Your Highness, if I were more familiar with Paris, a single day would suffice," the spy said, furrowing his brow as he continued, "However, there's a small problem at the moment."
"Oh? What problem?"
Prosper said, "There are two individuals named Joseph Fouché who match the characteristics you described."
Indeed, the person Joseph asked him to find was Fouché, who would later serve as Emperor Napoleon's chief of intelligence, participate fully in the Coup of 18 Brumaire, and later pledge allegiance to Louis XVIII, earning the moniker "Executioner of Lyon."
Originally, Joseph had intended to select one of these spies, like Prosper, to lead his future intelligence agency. However, through his interactions with them, Joseph discovered that while these individuals were skilled in espionage, they lacked proficiency in management, strategic planning, and personnel deployment.
Therefore, he still needed to find a general director for the intelligence agency to ensure its proper functioning.
He immediately thought of the infamous Fouché—a ruthless individual capable of building Emperor Napoleon's intelligence empire.
Although Fouché would later rise through the ranks after the French Revolution, wielding significant influence in politics, due to his humble origins, he was currently just an obscure priest, unnoticed by anyone.
Thus, Joseph had the newly arrived spies search for him, also wanting to test their capabilities. He hadn't expected them to find him so quickly.
However, it was still necessary to determine which one was the Fouché he desired.
He glanced at the sky and said to Prosper, "Please take me to meet them tomorrow."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The next day.
In a small monastery in the northern district of Paris, Prosper and his men, dressed in plain clothes, found Fouché and led him to a secluded room.
Prosper looked at the nervous monk and said in a deep voice, "I am an officer of the Royal Police. Listen, several foreign spies have infiltrated your monastery. At present, I can only confirm that you are not involved in this matter.
"These individuals have stolen important intelligence, and if we alert them, the information might be destroyed."
The monk's eyes widened. "W-why are you telling me this?"
Prosper handed him a paper packet. "I need you to poison their food, to ensure they all die simultaneously."
The monk's face went pale, and the poison "clattered" to the ground from his trembling hand, as if it were a scorpion. He stammered, "No, there are innocent people among them. I—I cannot kill them..."
Outside the room, Joseph shook his head slightly. 'It shouldn't be him. Let's go.'
Eman entered the room, told the monk that it was all a joke and nothing serious, left him ten livres, and then departed with Joseph and the others.
An hour later, in a larger monastery, Prosper repeated the same procedure. He said to the monk before him, who had sunken cheeks, dull, expressionless eyes, and thin lips, "So, I need you to poison their food..."
A sudden glint appeared in the monk's eyes. "My lord, if I assist the Secret Police, will I be rewarded?"
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