Evangelium - Book 4 E-Book

Laporte Gilbert

• Herausgeber: Le Tram Noir - INT
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Evangelium
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 151

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

A series of murders motivated by the theft of ancient manuscripts...

The battle for the apocryphal gospels is not over. A sect of extremist penitents joins the fray for their possession, but they do not take into account the Vatican henchmen who are acting behind the scenes. As for Lieutenant Martin Delpech, he manages to obtain a lead that will lead him to the assassin. But, when he faces him, he will be confronted by someone stronger than himself...
Join Lieutenant Delpech in the fourht volume of his thrilling new investigation, which will pit him against the violence of a fundamentalist psychopath, Vatican henchmen, religious extremists, and a messianic sect. Will he manage to escape this nightmarish struggle?

WHAT THE CRITICS THINK

A deep dive into the world of Catholic fundamentalism. For those with a thirst for theology.- HannibaLectrice,

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gilbert Laporte was born in Paris and lives in the south of France. He completed his higher education in Nice and worked as an executive at several large companies. He divides his leisure time between reading history, cinema, music, travel, and writing.

Leseprobe

Cover

Title page

1

MAMILLA

Contassot grabbed the receiver of his phone with an energetic hand and dialed Salvat’s number.

“Damien, I need you to clarify some elements of the investigation. I feel like we’re spinning our wheels… no, not in my office… let’s grab a coffee downstairs. My coffee maker is broken.”

As was his habit, Contassot took Spock to the nearest café to the 36. He entered with a conquering air, as if he owned the place.

“Hey, there’s a new waitress, he noticed with a lewd glance… a black girl… not bad… nice legs, but she’s lacking a bit in the chest department…”

The two men spotted an empty table where they sat down. After about five minutes, Contassot made desperate gestures to the waitress, bordering on a cry for help. The young woman approached him with a wide smile, unburdened by a long day of labor.

“I’d like a coffee, but in a big bowl.”

He gestured with both hands as if holding a container the size of a pot.

“Black coffee or with milk?”

“Oh, yes! With milk, and whipped cream. Whipped cream is great…” he said with a childlike look of wonder.

“Would you like some toast with that?” the waitress asked with a sideways smile.

He shook his right hand negatively.

“No, I already had some at home this morning with light butter. Instead, bring me… two, no three croissants with real butter.”

“We’re out. But I can bring you normal ones. They’re very fresh.”

“Oh, really? That’s too bad… normal ones then…” he accepted with a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

“And for him?” the waitress asked.

Contassot answered for the captain.

“Oh, he’s just having a strong cappuccino…”

As the employee went to the kitchen, the commander turned around to size her up from head to toe.

“Nice little ass, don’t you think?”

“I don’t like black girls…” Spock said coldly.

“Oh, right… you don’t like anything anyway… so, where are we with this investigation?”

“We’re making a little progress, even if getting Martin to debrief is like pulling teeth.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s not very chatty; it’s in his nature. We have to deal with it. But what new material do we actually have?”

“When we searched Hugues Baillard’s house from top to bottom, we found a real pigsty in every room. Even the mattress in his bedroom was moldy, and the sheets were yellow with filth and sweat. Totally disgusting… I don’t get how someone could have lived in such filth. The strangest thing is that his torture room in the basement was spotless. He cleaned it with bleach.”

“He was a nut, that’s all. No need to try to understand…”

“Not completely crazy, at least. We found no clues at his place or about any possible accomplices. Nothing. Zilch.”

“Fingerprints?”

“Just his. To be fair, if he invited friends over, they probably left running… but the forensic team is analyzing the hair and other biological fragments discovered on site, just in case. We also had his private sewer system checked, but found nothing.”

“His family?”

“He was a lone wolf, estranged from his family for a long time.”

“Work?”

“A respected and feared boss. A bit paternalistic too. That’s often the case for all the guys who made a fortune through hard work…”

“A mistress? Does he regularly see prostitutes? Is he gay?…”

“No. None of that.”

“Is he part of a club, an association?”

“No, we haven’t found anything so far.”

Shrek got angry.

“What do we have then, damn it!”

He turned on his seat to observe the swinging door of the kitchen.

“And what’s that lazy waitress doing, anyway?”

Salvat ignored his boss’s angry outburst.

“There was a whole collection of fascist books at Baillard’s. Also, medical magazines, mainly on surgery. Lots of specialized works on pain and the nervous system. This guy clearly wanted to be an expert in making people suffer. He probably thought he was a doctor in a Nazi concentration camp…”

“For his own pleasure, or to punish his victims?”

“Probably both. Hey! Here come our coffees…”

True to his reputation, Shrek pounced on his food. He stuffed a huge spoonful of whipped cream, larger than his mouth, leaving a wide white circular trail around his lips and mustache. The captain continued his briefing as if nothing was happening. Contassot seemed completely focused on his breakfast activity, but Salvat knew he wasn’t missing a word of the information he was giving him.

“I’ve been tipped off by the intelligence services. According to them, Baillard was part of a group of fascists, close to extremist Catholic circles. This confirms the lead given by the priest.”

“Oh, finally! We have some leads…”

“It’s obviously a fascist brotherhood. Maybe even a sect of Satan worshippers.”

“We need to research that. You know, some really twisted stuff, like Hitlerian satanism…”

Salvat nodded and watched Contassot devour his food with concern for the new Italian designer suit he had just bought. The commander carelessly dipped his pastries into his bowl, causing ripples that inevitably spilled into his saucer. He swallowed half a croissant in one bite.

“These things are too small… there’s nothing to eat. They’re like the black girl’s tits.”

81

CHIRURGIA

To meticulously observe the surroundings, Delpech drove slowly past Antony’s clinic, then parked the police vehicle two streets away, near the RER station.

“The building is small, but quite classy,” noted Djamila.

The surgical establishment was indeed luxurious. It had been set up in a former mansion made of cut stone with a mansard roof. Despite the winter season, its garden, consisting of boxwood and decorative shrubs with evergreen foliage, maintained an appealing appearance.

“You’d think so,” replied Martin, tightening the handbrake. “A cosmetic surgeon must be making a lot of money. It’s a booming job; even teenagers want to get touch-ups now…”

“What are we going to say when we enter? That you need a little facelift? joked the corporal.”

“No, I’m going alone,” the lieutenant said firmly. “We haven’t found anything suspicious about the owner of the place, and I don’t want to give the impression that we’re forcing our way in. But you never know; you’ll discreetly post yourself undercover on the opposite sidewalk and note any comings and goings.”

“I’m going to freeze,” she complained.

“You’re not in an American TV show here. And being at the Judicial Police isn’t just about freezing your butt off; it’s also about staying up all night drinking bad coffee, being bored watching someone do their shopping all afternoon, or hiding in disgusting places. Once, I even had to hide for a few hours in a garbage container in the middle of the summer…”

The two officers got out of the vehicle, and Martin strode decisively toward the entrance. Inside, the reception area looked nothing like a healthcare facility. The floor was made of marble tiles, the walls were covered with mahogany panels and adorned with indirect lighting that gave the whole place a very chic appearance. There was no reception counter, but a desk made of a simple glass top supported by golden metal legs resembling lion’s paws. Behind it, a young woman in a blue blouse with more than generous curves seemed to be bored stiff. Upon seeing the handsome Martin arrive, she straightened up in her chair and made an effort to appear as welcoming as possible.

“How can I help you?” she asked with eyes clearly interested in the policeman’s physique.

“Lieutenant Martin Delpech,” judicial police.

“Are you here to arrest me?” she asked with a playful air.

She leaned forward so that the curve of her ample bosom was better highlighted between her open collar.

“Uh, no…” Martin replied, blushing.

“Too bad, I would have loved to be handcuffed…”

She sighed.

“Well, too bad…”

Martin was clearly uncomfortable with the receptionist’s provocative demeanor.

“I’d like to meet the owner of this establishment,” the policeman continued, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Mr. Schaeffer only sees people by appointment. Furthermore, he’s going on vacation, and we close in fifteen minutes…”

“Fifteen minutes will be more than enough for me. Please let him know.”

“I know him; he won’t see you,” she replied with a pinched look, annoyed by Martin’s indifference towards her.

She picked up her phone and stiffened when she heard her boss agree to an appointment. A door opened moments later, and Franck Schaeffer stepped into the hallway to invite Delpech to join him.

“You can go home now, Armelle, I no longer need you. Thank you and have a good evening.”

The assistant, who was more than ready to leave, didn’t need to be asked twice. She took off her blouse, put on a thick hooded coat, and disappeared into the cold of the evening after locking the front door behind her.

“Come into my office, please. Have a seat.”

Martin complied. He immediately felt uncomfortable. His interlocutor was too polite and considerate toward him. Tall, he had neatly styled graying hair and well-groomed hands. His light blue coat revealed a shirt and a beautiful silk designer tie. Martin felt that this man was trying to present himself as pleasant, to better conceal his true personality.

“How can I help you, sir?” he asked with a suddenly piercing green gaze.

“We’re investigating deaths caused by certain medications,” the policeman lied.

“Deaths?” He said, looking surprised. “Do you know the cause?”

“Not yet, but it seems the implicated products come from a laboratory that’s your supplier.”

“I’ve never had problems with my products… which lab is it, and which article?”

Martin took the bottle from his pocket and placed it on the desk, label facing Schaeffer. He observed his reaction, but the latter showed nothing.

“I know that supplier, but we don’t use that product.”

“Yet several containers have been delivered here multiple times.”

His interlocutor made a dubious pout.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but this really doesn’t ring a bell. I have nurses assisting me, as well as an anesthesiologist. It might have been one of them who placed that order.”

He stood up from his chair.

“If you’d like to follow me, I’ll go check. We have a storage area in the basement and duplicates of the order slips.”

Martin didn’t like how the conversation was unfolding. He was starting to regret not bringing Djamila with him. The policeman was armed, but he was still very wary of this individual who seemed to have perfect control over himself. Nevertheless, he followed him down to the basement and took advantage of the fact that the doctor had his back turned to unfasten the leather safety strap of his holster.

The room serving as a storage area for pharmaceuticals and surgical instruments was located in front of a brand-new operating room. The surgeon entered and headed toward a refrigerated cabinet. Delpech followed closely behind, watching his every move. However, he didn’t see that at the same time he was taking a vial, he had seized an object with his other hand from the right pocket of his coat.

“Ah, here’s what I was looking for,” he exclaimed.

Schaeffer turned around with a smile on his lips. He held the vial up to the lieutenant’s eyes to divert his attention and pressed an electric baton against his chest. The 500,000-volt shock contracted Delpech’s muscles and immediately stunned him. In shock, Martin felt himself fall like a rag doll. During the long seconds that followed, and although fully conscious, he remained paralyzed, unable to make the slightest movement.

The policeman was just beginning to regain the use of his limbs when he felt a prick in his neck.

“I’m going to let you taste one of my favorite products, the surgeon whispered in his ear. You’ll see, it paralyzes you while at the same time enhancing all your senses. It’s ideal for making someone suffer. The pain is multiplied by ten, and you can’t even scream to relieve yourself. And believe me, I’m an expert when it comes to suffering. You’re going to tell me everything I need to know.”

He looked the policeman straight in the eye.

“Absolutely everything.”

82

MYTHUS

Eight months earlier.

The television show that Pierre Demange had participated in the previous summer was titled: “JESUS: MYTH OR REALITY?” Bernard Deschamps, the host, was evidently looking for any opportunity that evening to provoke a scandal beneficial to the ratings. This situation deeply annoyed the historian, who didn’t like preconceived ideas and even less journalists eager for scandals to promote themselves.

“So, Mr. Demange, what can you tell us about Jesus’s family?”

“First of all, the virginity of Mary is a dogma that is contradicted by a careful reading of the Gospels.”

“Your statement is surprising, but can you prove it?”

“By the simple fact that in the Gospels, neither Jesus nor Mary mention a miraculous birth. Furthermore, the writings of Mark and Matthew mention four brothers of Jesus: James, Joseph, Jude, and Simon. There are also two sisters mentioned. Additionally, in Luke, it states that Jesus is the ‘firstborn,’ which means there must have been at least one ‘secondborn’…”

“But what arguments does the Church have for not recognizing this fact?”

“It considers that the word ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ should be understood in the sense of ‘cousin.’ On the other hand, it takes the expression ‘Son of God’ literally. However, we know that at that time, the expressions son of God and son of Satan were common terms used to refer to someone who acts according to God’s word and someone who does evil.

“And what were Jesus’s relationships with his family like in the Gospels?”

“Difficult. In John, it is emphasized that his brothers did not believe in him. In Mark, it is indicated that Jesus’s parents wanted to seize him because he was ‘out of his head,’ meaning crazy.”

“What can we say about Jesus’s relationship with his mother in particular?”

“It wasn’t very nice… when he addresses her, he curtly says: ‘woman’ and not mother. There’s also in Luke, a person who praises Jesus saying: ‘Blessed are the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you,’ and he replies: ‘Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it.’”

“Indeed, that’s not very kind to Mary.”

“Yes, and this tension is found in the famous reply in the Gospel according to Mark, where mention is made of Jesus’s parents, brothers, and sisters, and he replies: ‘A prophet is not without honor except in his own family and home.’ There’s also this demand of his disciples that they hate father, mother, wife, children, brothers, and sisters. Jesus places religion before his own family and asks his apostles to do the same.”

“That’s quite an enlightening perspective on a Jesus in conflict with his relatives… if you don’t mind, I would like to question you about another topic.”

“Please do.”

“I read an article you published in a journal where you claimed that the image of Jesus as Love, with a capital ‘L,’ should be understood in a nuanced way. You particularly mentioned the phrase regarding the sword and the division he said he was bringing on earth, not peace.”

“Exactly, before going to the Mount of Olives, he asks that whoever has a purse use it to buy a sword.”

“Yes, I know your theory that Jesus wanted to take power.”

“It’s a hypothesis. In the Gospel according to John, he replies to Pilate: ‘You say so. I am a king.’ and some of his disciples call him ‘Lord,’ and he doesn’t contradict them.”

“Certainly, but he also states that his kingdom is not of this world.”

“Yes, but in John, he specifies: ‘If my kingdom were of this world, my people would have fought.’ This, in my opinion, is a statement of failure of his rebellion.”

“That’s an interpretation.”

“Yes, of course, but it’s worth as much as any other. If Jesus and the apostles had been totally peaceful, there would have been no need to call on Roman force.”

“A Jesus who wants to be king by arms is quite surprising, after all…”

“But there’s something even more violent in the Gospel according to Luke, when Christ asks that his opponents who do not want him to reign over them be killed. You know, people often associate the Quran with extremism, but the Inquisition was based on this kind of sentence to justify the worst practices in the name of Christ.”

“Yes, but the Inquisition is a distant past…”

“But nothing says that tomorrow a Christian extremist won’t commit an attack based on these principles…”

83

PREDATOR

Martin Delpech’s body was completely paralyzed by the chemical that Franck Schaeffer had injected into him. He felt Schaeffer lifting him by the shoulders and dragging him for several meters. The policeman soon realized that the surgeon was hoisting him onto a table.

Martin’s senses were disrupted. He felt as if he were floating in the air, and a bitter taste flooded his mouth. The walls around him seemed to tilt, while the ceiling began to vibrate. Every ambient sound was amplified, assaulting his eardrums. Next to him, Schaeffer manipulated metallic objects, their clanging transforming into a cacophony in the lieutenant’s head, who had just understood that these were surgical instruments placed in a stainless steel container.

The surgeon then delivered a surprising speech.

“Let me tell you that you are on the wrong track, Mr. Policeman. You think I am a bloodthirsty madman, a psychopath who acts out of sadistic pleasure? You are mistaken. Certainly, appearances are against me. You might also believe you are dealing with a predator? In a way, I am one. What would the balance of nature be without sharks, lions, or crocodiles? As for me, I also work for the good of the community.”

While speaking, Schaeffer took several scalpels and examined their sharpness. He chose the one with the longest blade.