Mélanie Mercier née Markowitz (6)

The murder

Jean Michel Jakobowicz, ONU

Immediately after the kids had gone, things seemed to develop very quickly. First of all when I arrived at the office the next day, a memorandum was waiting for me on my desk. The note was very short. It was written by my direct supervisor, Hubert de la Seine, who announced that in view of my work- load and for reasons of equity, I was no longer in charge of the preparation of the Economic Survey of the Organization. Alexander Rodronovi would complete it instead of me.

At once I picked up the phone and called Hubert de la Seine to tell him what I thought of his memo. He was gone, supposedly on mission for the next whole week. When I tried Wilfred Heman, the director of the division, he was “in a meeting and unfortunately would have to leave the office immediately afterwards”. I could acknowledge the “courage” of these guys. To make a decision, OK, but for them to take responsibility for it was too much to ask.

I went into the corridor to see one of my section chiefs. Just as I passed by the divisions’ conference room, the door was open and I saw them all. Alexander Radronovi was seated at the head of the table and the others were listening to him avidly. They behaved as if they hadn’t seen me. Even my secretary look down when she saw me passing. I slammed my door. I was on the verge of tears.

What a group of cowards and of b…! And on top of that, I didn’t even know whom to share my anger with. David still had not reappeared. I then decided to call my friend Julia Thornbird and told her what had just happened.

— I will be right with you, she told me as I had just finished my story. That comforted me, at least my friends, my true friends would not abandon me. — Can you believe it, they were all sitting there listening attentively to this idiot Alexander, while just yesterday they were all criticizing him. Today, just because he is the boss they crawl up to him. They’re all cowards. — But why all this fuss for just a few growth percentage points? Why do they care? asked Julia. — It’s because…frankly, I don’t know. All I do know is that it is sufficiently important for them and that right now I am fed up. — On the contrary you should be happy, you’ll have a few stress-free weeks, said Julia, trying to sound convincing. — So you think that I will let this bunch of machos win? I need to prepare my counter attack. And for that I need you. — Yes Sir! said my friend laughing. Her laugh was so infectious, that very soon I also started to laugh. Too bad that David is not here too, he would have been able to help us for sure. — Still no news from him? asked Julia. — No, nothing. My father told me that finding him should be my first priority. — Wait a minute, I don’t understand. Suddenly I remembered that I hadn’t told her about the anonymous messages. I did so immediately. — Thanks for trusting me, she said ironically. You could have told me about it before. Anyhow, I think that your father was right. The first thing we have to do is to find David. She had just finished her sentence when my phone rang. The voice of my secretary seemed full of respect, in contrast to her attitude a few minutes before. — The Secretary General wants to see you at once, she said. — Did you hear that? I said to Julia just after hang- ing up the phone. The SG wants to see me. — Well, my dear, she said laughing. News travels fast in this place. Madam seems to have contacts at the highest levels. What are you going to tell him? — The truth, just the truth. That the figures given by de la Seine and his crew are simply unjustified political statements.

The Secretary General’s office is located on the fifth floor of the building. To get there you have to follow a long Kafkaesque corridor. It was not the first time that I was visiting him, but I was still just as impressed, even though I had known him for long time, when he was only a division director and I just a newcomer. We had become just good friends and … no, nothing, I was married and he was a bachelor.

The SG’s office was huge, but a bit old fashioned with badly matching furniture. In fact each piece of furniture had been given to the organization by member states. It looked a bit like a second hand shop. This thought made me smile. However when I saw the SG’s face my smile quickly faded away. He looked particularly worried.

I was about to go into very laborious explanations, when I noticed that the SG was not alone. The head of security and the legal adviser of the organization were also there, as well as another man whom I didn’t recognize.

— You know everybody, said the SG, except perhaps Mr. Savoy from the Geneva police. They all have a few questions to ask you. A cold shiver went through my whole body. What did this all mean? — As you are protected by your diplomatic immunity, said the policeman, you are in no way obliged to answer my questions. Then without waiting he asked me: — Did you know a person named David Garrido? A new shot of adrenaline passed through my entire body. I managed to nod my head. — When did you see him for the last time? — Three days ago, I had some problems and he called me in the middle of the night. — What type of problems did you have? asked the policeman. I turned towards the SG and tried to ask him what to do with my eyes. The policeman saw my gesture. Trying to be casual, he added: — You may stop this meeting at any time to discuss the matter with your chief. The SG made a little sign that looked as if he was encouraging me to go on.

My story started very slowly, each word seemed to cost me an immense effort. However at one point the floodgates opened and without pausing for breath, I told them all that had happened to me. The shame of speaking of my private business in front of these four people was very soon replaced by the relief of disclosing a secret which had become too much to bear. When I had finished, silence reigned in the room. Then came the fateful question:

— Why didn’t you call the police, asked Mr. Savoy? — Because you would have laughed at me, there was really nothing to make a case: an anonymous phone call, and an anonymous SMS. Nothing else! — What do you think Mr. Garrido did after he left you? — I don’t know. I didn’t dare to ask the fateful question. I looked desperately at the SG, who could read the question on my face, because he said: — The body of David Garrido has been found in the basement of the Gare de Lyon Station in Paris. My heart stopped beating. The walls started to move around me. I must have fainted because the next thing I knew was the Secretary General handing me a glass of water.
— How do you feel, he asked? — I … what happened? I asked in a voice I didn’t recognize. — We don’t know for sure yet, answered the Swiss policeman. All that we know is that he was shot dead and then beheaded. — How horrible! Who could have done such a thing? Tears welled up in my eyes and started flow- ing down my cheeks. — We don’t know anything more for the time being, answered the policeman. But it is possible that there might be a link between this murder and your story. First of all, what was your relationship with Mr. Garrido exactly? The question surprised me. Certainly I knew that rumours travelled quite quickly in the organization but … — Friendly, we often ate lunch together with my friend Julia.

Nothing more? — If what you want to know is whether he was my lover or not, then the answer is NO. I dropped my head in my hands and began to cry again. — If you so wish, we can continue this discussion a little later. I shook my head.