The Radiant Republic 35. The Bordeaux Customs II

Before Montbas could speak again, André called out loudly for Lieutenant Senarmont, who had been waiting nearby. The lieutenant imdiately stepped forward and presented a detention warrant signed by the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court, reading aloud in a firm voice:

“…For corruption and bribery, Prosecutor André, acting under the authority vested in him by law, hereby removes Monsieur Montbas from his position as Chief of the Bordeaux Customs and orders him to be escorted to Paris to the Palais de Justice for further interrogation.”

“I object! You have no right to arrest !” Montbas leapt to his feet and protested loudly.

André corrected him once again, “It is only a temporary detention. As the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court, I am entitled to exercise such authority. Once we arrive in Paris, it will be the Palais de Justice and the Ministry of Finance that will decide what follows.”

With that, André made a subtle gesture. Lieutenant Senarmont took out the handcuffs he had already prepared and, without another word, shackled the customs chief. Two cavalryn dismounted to assist, each taking one side of the prisoner as they escorted him toward a rchant vessel moored at the dock.

Seeing this, Captain Barbena of the customs anti-smuggling squad sensed danger. Brandishing his pistol, he tried to break through the cavalry cordon in an attempt to rescue his superior.

A gunshot cracked through the air. Sergeant Augereau’s pistol discharged, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the barrel. Captain Barbena, struck in the left chest, collapsed wordlessly to the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

The sergeant swiftly re-holstered his pistol, then raised his sabre high and shouted to the agitated customs officers, “Anyone who dares to assault the prosecutor shall be executed on the spot—whoever he may be!”

With that single sentence, the cri was defined. Since the fallen captain was not a state official, his death would draw no concern from Paris.

At that mont, Tax Officer Berni happened to erge from the customs building. He earnestly persuaded his hesitant colleagues:

“Put down your weapons. The prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court is only acting against Monsieur Montbas. It has nothing to do with us.”

The n exchanged uneasy glances, then, resigned, lowered their weapons and stepped aside with the tax officer. Seeing that the cavalry did not pursue them, they finally breathed in relief. Each of them silently thanked Monsieur Berni for stepping forward at the right mont; the blood-soaked corpse of Captain Barbena was proof enough of what could have happened otherwise.

Once Berni ca forward to handle the aftermath, André, in his capacity as the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court, issued several imdiate orders:

Tax Officer Berni was appointed Acting Chief of the Bordeaux Customs until a new chief was designated by Paris.Forr Chief Montbas was to be escorted to Paris for trial. (A two-masted rchant vessel bound for Paris had already been prepared at Dock No. 1.)During the prosecutor’s stay in Bordeaux, Sergeant Augereau of the cavalry would also serve as the head of the anti-smuggling squad.All other customs officials and clerks would retain their positions, and the processes of declaration and taxation were to resu imdiately.

While André was reorganizing the port customs, Lieutenant Moncey kept his promise. He strictly ordered the 5th Chasseurs Battalion not to interfere and to remain blind and deaf to whatever happened before the customs building.

When the commander of the Garonne Infantry Brigade stord over in anger, demanding to know why the lieutenant had done nothing while the customs building was surrounded by cavalry, Moncey spread his hands and replied with an innocent face:

“That was an internal affair between the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court and the Bordeaux Customs. What could I have done? Supporting either side would only bring trouble. Of course, if you, Monsieur Brigadier, were to give a direct order to the 5th Chasseurs, I would be happy to execute it.”

Ordering the chasseurs to attack a Parisian prosecutor and his cavalry detachnt would have been tantamount to open rebellion against Paris—an act of sheer folly. Neither Bordeaux City Hall nor the general populace would support it; even the local soldiers might refuse such an order. The outco was obvious—the commander would fare no better than the forr Governor of Paris, whose bones had long since turned to dust.

With Montbas now the forr customs chief and on his way to Paris for trial, and with Berni having taken full control of the port under André’s backing—even replacing the anti-smuggling captain with one of André’s n—any chance to change the situation had vanished. Further confrontation would serve no purpose but venting anger.

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When the overall commander finally left in frustration, Lieutenant Moncey exhaled in relief. He had managed to bluff his way through, though from this day on his own future would be tied to that of André Franck.

News of the customs raid and Montbas’s arrest spread quickly throughout Bordeaux. Monsieur Savigny, the tax-farm contractor, flew into a rage, smashing every glass and ceramic object in his marble-floored office. Prosecutor Luchon was equally sullen; after downing an entire bottle of red wine, he claid illness and went ho early by carriage.

From the window of the High Court, the fifty-sothing Judge Duranthon—his corpulent figure frad in the sunlight—watched the departing carriage of Prosecutor Luchon with cold detachnt. André’s arrival had given him not only the best opportunity and strongest ally to strike back at the tax-farrs, but also a ans to warn the overreaching Luchon.

Just the previous night, André had privately visited Judge Duranthon’s residence. The two had exchanged views on nurous matters, including the conditional pardon of highway robbers, the removal of Prosecutor Luchon, the reorganization of the customs, the reform of tariff collection, and the suppression of tax-farm companies.

Though the prosecutor from Paris acted with arrogance in the eyes of the courthouse, Judge Duranthon silently approved. When a law enforcer arrives in a new and hostile city, the first thing he must do is to establish authority—better to inspire fear than to expose weakness. Moreover, André’s actions, however rash they seed, were consistently grounded in legal reasoning. Even the slain captain of the anti-smuggling squad had been pre-emptively branded as one who attempted to assassinate the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court, leaving no room for anyone to appeal his death.

As for Bordeaux City Hall, the old n there maintained their habitual silence. Since both the prosecutor and the customs chief were Parisian officials—civil servants of the state—the dispute was considered an internal affair beyond local jurisdiction. The city, therefore, would remain neutral. Yet in private gatherings, so officials were visibly uneasy: their families had once colluded with the forr customs chief to evade taxes on imported and exported goods. If the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court continued his pursuit, they too might be escorted to Paris for trial before the Fiscal Court, their fate perhaps worse than that of Montbas.

Fortunately, Perrier appeared at that very mont like an angel. At a subsequent business reception, he spoke on behalf of Prosecutor André, assuring the assembled officials and rchants that anyone who voluntarily repaid a portion of their evaded taxes within one week would be exempt from further investigation and spared from becoming the prosecutor’s next target.

It took Perrier and Tax Officer Berni two full days to calculate the exact figures. The amount of unpaid duties owed by each rchant or trading house was listed in detail, leaving hardly any room for dispute. Should any rchant still dare to withhold paynt after seven days—on August 8—André would have no hesitation in slaughtering another “chicken” or seizing a “monkey” as an example.

For those patriotic taxpayers who did pay, André was equally generous in offering consolation and praise. In practice, however, depending on personal connections—or on André’s own instructions or those of his associates—certain “reasonable adjustnts” would occur.

“This sugar rchant was recomnded by Judge Duranthon; we’ll calculate his dues at fifty percent of the normal rate. As for the Marquis de Fontenay, the sa applies,” Perrier explained.

“I agree,” said Berni cautiously. “This coffee-bean rchant is a staunch follower of Montbas and must pay the full amount plus a fine. As for the young and beautiful Comtesse de Lur-Saluces, she is truly unfortunate—her husband died two years ago, and her vineyards suffered severe losses from pests. Might we allow her to pay half the tax, as a gesture of the prosecutor’s rcy?”

“No problem, my friend. As long as the total sum ets the prosecutor’s expectations, the details are irrelevant. You are the customs chief here; naturally, the final word is yours,” Perrier replied flatteringly. He knew he was only one of André’s agents in Bordeaux and kept his place accordingly.

“No, no, no—it’s our final word!” the acting chief laughed, raising his glass, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction. From any angle, Berni knew he must maintain a good relationship with the shrewd Jewish rchant.

Perrier and Berni concluded that the back-tax collections at the port, involving over 300 companies or trade associations, would total roughly 8 million livres, even after accounting for uncertainties.

When the two n arrived at the Lafite Villa to report, André had just completed the official dossier on the Bordeaux Customs, sealed it with wax, and entrusted it to a cavalry courier to deliver to Paris at full speed. André ordered the ssenger to hand the docunt personally to Judge Vinault within five days. The courier also carried two private letters—one for Deputy Prieur, to be forwarded to the National Assembly’s Finance Committee, and another for Robespierre, explaining André’s actions to the Jacobin Club.

When André learned that the recovered customs revenue might reach 8 million livres, he beca visibly excited. Rubbing his hands together, he paced back and forth across the study. For the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court, there was no greater achievent than collecting taxes for the state—unless it was collecting even more taxes.

André had every reason to believe that once even half of that sum reached the Paris Treasury, the Palais de Justice, the Constituent Assembly, and even the destitute Minister of Finance would all sing in unison the praises of the prosecutor of the Special Fiscal Court

for his extraordinary efficiency. Any minor irregularities in his thods would be conveniently overlooked.

“Quick—call that ssenger back to !” André rushed to the window and leaned out, shouting to a guard at the gate. The prosecutor’s report, it seed, needed one last revision.