Closing the Net

Guizot's expression stiffened as he looked at Valian. "Keep your man under control! What nonsense is he spouting?"

The carriage suddenly stopped. Valian forced a smile uglier than crying and shifted slightly aside. Only then did Guizot see the dagger pressed against Valian's lower back.

Guizot's pupils contracted. He sprang up and reached for the carriage door handle, but the lean man was faster. The instant Guizot's backside left the seat, the man's right hand had already clamped around his neck and pinned him against the backrest.

Guizot struggled violently and screamed hysterically:

"Let me go! I'm the Police Commissioner of Paris! You have no evidence—you can't arrest me!"

The man sitting to Valian's right, who had remained silent all along, suddenly spoke.

"I, Ambroise de Hermann, witnessed everything just now on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen. I can prove your guilt."

The carriage door was opened from outside. Alden and a police officer pointed their guns at Guizot, their faces blazing with anger. "I was driving just now. We heard it too. We can all testify!"

Guizot immediately went limp...

In the open yard of the Saint-Antoine District Police Station, Joseph watched large groups of police officers run past in formation. He kept nodding to them, and they answered with booming slogans.

Alden was beside himself with excitement. He was still chattering away to the Crown Prince about what had happened that morning, unable to stop.

"Viscount Antoine's men were waiting at the street corner and took Guizot away directly. I think they went to the Secret Pol—cough, the Royal Police interrogation room. I followed another team to search Guizot's home. There was a bulge near his bedside, and I knew something was wrong. We smashed it open and found a hidden compartment just as expected..."

Joseph had already heard the story once. He smiled. "And then you found that notebook. You've rendered great service this time."

Guizot's notebook contained intelligence on the major gangs and a great many violent criminals in the Saint-Antoine District. The final pages recorded how Guizot had sheltered those people and accepted their dirty money.

Joseph immediately mobilized every police officer under his command, coordinating them with his own Guard. Following the clues in the notebook, they struck straight at the criminals' dens.

The Saint-Antoine District entered an extraordinarily turbulent day. Caught utterly off guard, gang members and violent criminals were chased through the streets like scattered rats, only to be swiftly pinned to the ground with riot-control forked poles. A few who stubbornly resisted were fed bullets.

The arrests continued for two days. Once the citizens heard the news, they conscientiously stayed indoors to cooperate with the Police. Some of the bolder ones even carried clubs and helped the Police block criminals at street corners.

The cells at the Saint-Antoine District Police Station were quickly packed to the brim, and the remaining violent criminals were sent to the Bastille.

Such a huge commotion drew reporters from nearly all of Paris to investigate.

On White Iris Street, a middle-aged man with disheveled hair, deep lines around his mouth, and a grave expression—as though he were contemplating life at every moment—stood frowning at the opposite side of the road. A squad of Royal Guards was passing by, leading seven or eight men whose hands were tied behind their backs, their heads hanging low and blood smeared across their mouths and noses.

The young man beside him said nervously, "Mr. Marat, you really didn't need to come in person. It seems rather dangerous here..."

"It's all right." Marat waved a hand. "If one does not visit the scene personally, one can never know the truth!"

He strode into a grocery store, bought a few things at random, then pointed at the distant Royal Guards and asked the owner, "Do you know what they're doing? Arresting political prisoners?"

The shop owner rolled his eyes and snapped, "What political prisoners? Those tied up are Viper Gang scum. They've never done anything good!"

As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve and revealed a scar. "See this? The Viper Gang gave it to me last year. Before the Crown Prince brought in the new police force, they extorted five livres from me every month! God bless the Crown Prince. Those hateful bastards have finally been caught! From now on, I'll have money to buy some butter for my children!"

Marat habitually took out his notebook and began writing. "Could you tell me about this new police force?"

"Of course." The shop owner set down his work and sized him up. "You're a reporter, aren't you? Haha, could you put my words of thanks to the Crown Prince in the newspaper?"

"Huh? Y-yes, of course..."

After chatting for a while,

With his head crammed full of praise for the Crown Prince, Marat left the grocery store suspiciously. He stopped a passerby by the roadside and again asked what the Police and Guard were doing.

He received much the same answer as he had from the shop owner.

After interviewing seven or eight people in succession, visiting the security booth on White Iris Street, and even questioning the arrested violent criminals directly, he finally began to believe that the Royal Family had actually done something highly beneficial for ordinary people!

This was far too abnormal!

In his impression, the Royal Family and those great nobles had always done nothing but exploit and bully the common people. Eliminating harm for the people without levying a fee on everyone—this was absolutely the first time.

But he was a man who respected facts. After obtaining a great deal of firsthand interview material, he immediately returned to his inn and wrote the title of tomorrow's article on paper—<The Crown Prince's Police Reform Shows Remarkable Results, Uprooting the Criminal Foundation of the Saint-Antoine District in One Stroke>.

Several ash-black carriages traveled along the north bank of the Seine River toward Versailles Palace.

In the middle carriage, Joseph coughed repeatedly. He felt as though he were sitting atop a Pile Driver, his whole body nearly shaken apart.

He rubbed his aching, dizzy forehead and thought, I need to get spring shock absorbers made as soon as possible—tires too, preferably. I'll be riding carriages often from now on. I can't let this thing shake me into an early grave.

Yesterday, he had received a letter of commendation from the Cabinet, lavishly praising his achievement in wiping out the criminals of the Saint-Antoine District in one stroke. It instructed him to return to Versailles Palace to report on his duties, bearing the seals of the King and Queen at the end.

Joseph smiled inwardly and shook his head. Being summoned to report after just over twenty days in office—he had probably set a record. Most likely, Louis XVI and the Queen missed their son and had found an excuse to call him back.

Still, that happened to align perfectly with his plans.

Joseph had never intended to remain in the Police Department forever. His foremost goal had always been to save France's finances and prevent the nation from going bankrupt and having its heads chopped off by a mob.

He could use the success of this anti-crime operation to ask the Queen for the position of Assistant Minister of Finance. Then he would see what excuse those Cabinet members could use to oppose him.

Come to think of it, he had Guizot to thank for achieving such great results in the Saint-Antoine District this time.

If Guizot had not spent tens of thousands of livres to create chaos, Joseph could never have launched an anti-crime campaign that shook all of Paris.

Joseph's gaze swept over the several sheets of paper in his hands.

They were Guizot's confession and interrogation records, sent over by the Secret Police.

From them, he learned that his restructuring of the police force had affected the Police Department's profits from selling police positions, provoking Guizot into such a frenzied retaliation.

Spurred on by those twenty thousand livres, the gang members in the Saint-Antoine District had killed more than ten citizens in only a few days, with even more wounded. The situation had nearly spiraled out of control.

Joseph could not help taking a deep breath. If Similien had lacked financial counter-investigation awareness, Joseph would surely have been left harried and exhausted, and the Police Reform might even have been abandoned halfway.