The name's Roger Borniche,
inspector with the Federal Police.
I'm a cop.
I love this goddamn profession.
But this morning, I'd rather have stayed in bed with Catherine.
She wants to get married, make it legal.
But I've got to become chief investigator first.
I'm already doing the job.
I'm only lacking the title...
and the salary.
I've solved some major cases since I've been in this joint.
The boss can't deny that.
But that particular morning,
I had no idea what was about to pop up.
Hi, Borniche.
Morning, Roger.
Well?
Well, nothing.
He's talking nonsense.
Leave me alone with him.
If you're so smart...
I'd like to believe you, Raymond.
I always tell the truth.
So the day of the shooting, the 17th, you weren't in Paris.
You were in Rouen.
At my brother-in-law's. He'll confirm it.
They say they saw me in my bar, but they were outside.
They're obviously wrong.
Or they want you to do wrong. I don't doubt it.
Then why did your pals beat me up?
They're impulsive.
You too, sometimes.
Not on the 17th, but on the 16th, 20th or 22nd.
All right.
I'm magnanimous. I'll release you.
- What for? - You give Lieutenant Clot information.
Why not let me have it first?
But I'm not an informer!
I could name some of the guys you've brought down.
Scumbags who worked for the Gestapo.
That's different.
You should've been decorated.
Right. I'll be right there.
Make up your mind. I'm going to see the boss.
That'll give you some time to think it over.
- Keep an eye on that guy. - Sure, Roger.
Come in.
Buisson has escaped.
Buisson? Never heard of him.
You weren't here when he earned his stripes.
Fine list of holdups.
The Troyees Bank before the war.
In '42, the Victory Street holdup, a cashier shot.
I want you to get Buisson before Central does.
We'll show Clot that the Federal Police exist,
that Central doesn't have a monopoly on criminal cases.
Careful. Mr. Emile shoots fast and straight.
Does that appeal to you?
If not, I'd be a salesman.
Go on, get your informers competing.
By the way, I'd like to release Pelletier.
That's going too far.
The Spaniard was shot coming out of his bar.
His Rouen alibi will hold.
I think he has a deal with Clot.
How about we cut in?
That's what I like to hear.
- It's up to you. - I know.
Make Buisson a priority. Get his file from the archives.
If you pull this off,
I promise you'll make chief investigator this time.
Say, guys.
The name Buisson mean anything to you?
The gangster who broke out of Villejuif?
The chief wants us to get him.
Archives, please.
- What about Raymond? - We let him go.
Speaking of which,
I don't much like your methods.
Want me to offer him a candy bar?
That's an idea.
Roblin? Borniche here.
Could I have Buisson's file?
Emile Buisson.
Thanks, I'll send Darros.
So, it's a deal.
A deal?
I didn't agree to anything.
If you don't agree,
I'll make sure it gets around that you inform for Clot.
You must take me for a bitch.
That's why I'm giving you my phone number.
I'm a pervert.
I love bitches.
Anvers.
My bar, can I open it?
Of course.
If a certain Buisson ever stops by for a drink, give me a call.
Buisson? Are you crazy?
You know him?
Seen him around, like lots of others.
Thought he was still in the can.
He got out on good behavior.
My brother, Emile. This is Suzanne.
René's sister.
She was Pete the Saint's girl.
Cops shot him during the Marseilles holdup.
I know.
We'll stay here for a while.
In any case, I can't go home. The cops must be there.
They'll check the files.
- The driver? - Mario the Wop?
He's dumping the car. Don't worry. He's solid.
When Mario comes back, have him find another.
Do we need one just yet?
Suzanne, no errands to run?
Bring back the evening paper.
Got a change of clothes?
I want to go dancing this afternoon.
Can't that wait?
I hate to keep squealers waiting.
Cheers.
Hello, baby cop.
Hello, big girl.
A good day?
Hectic.
Bernier was out. I had to answer the phone.
A long wait for the bus.
No waiting on the subway.
Roger, I have the car for Sunday.
The Talbot? Fantastic.
I saw father at noon. He gave in.
It's hard to resist you.
If you'd been my daughter, I would've made a very bad father.
What are we doing tonight?
Nothing. I've got to read these files for tomorrow.
Excuse me.
Devil in the Flesh is playing.
You promised we'd see it.
We'll go next week. It'll play for a while.
Why don't you change careers?
Your attorney boss needs clients.
This the guy who escaped?
Yes, that's him.
He crazy?
He acts like it 'cause it's easier to get out of madhouses than prisons.
Is he dangerous?
Very.
Probably because of his unhappy childhood.
His alcoholic father made him steal food for them.
That doesn't make for a saint.
He's at the point of no return.
All we can do for him
is keep him from killing to save his neck.
You should've been an attorney.
Maybe.
Borniche, Federal Police.
- Jean-Baptiste Buisson's file, please. - Emile's brother?
Everyone wants that one today.
First row.
May I help you, gentlemen?
Hands up.
Everyone up!
Come on, hands up!
Bastards!
Put the dough on the table.
Jewels, lighters, everything.
Quick!
Come on.
Earrings.
The ring.
Now!
Don't move!
The cops.
- You okay? - Yes, fine. Get moving.
Be careful, they shot at me.
Stop!
Mado, open up.
Is your man here?
- What's the matter? - We need to stay a minute.
It's stormy outside.
Good to see you, Raymond.
I'll be damned!
I wasn't expecting -
Can I wash up?
Go right ahead. There's water at the bar.
We'll go to the back room.
You haven't changed in five years.
That's a load.
Grandma's inheritance. We want top price.
All right. I'll see the Armenian tomorrow.
You know his terms?
You'll get your cut, but be quick.
Thursday good?
Deal.
- 4:00. - Fine.
Mado, bring us a bottle.
"Officer Schmitt Dies as Result of Injuries. "
That's pure Buisson.
Description fits.
That's his style.
The guy escapes, forms a new team,
and he's back in business.
He doesn't waste any time.
Unlike you.
You're not getting anywhere.
How can I get him in a week?
- The press says you're a super cop. - I could do without the press.
Listen up. Just get moving.
Central will spare no effort.
What exactly are you doing?
Aside from smoking one cigarette after another?
Watching his brother's place.
Central's guys are there already. Find something else.
I'm looking, Chief.
Phone. Raymond Pelletier.
Will only talk to you.
Inspector?
It's about your friend.
What friend?
The one who's out on good behavior.
Oh, I get you. Well?
A man will come to my bar at 4:00 on Thursday.
Just follow him,
and he'll lead you to the right place.
Fine. Thanks.
There he goes.
Let's go.
We've met.
- Where do you live? - Paris.
That's where I've seen you.
DÉSI RÉE STREET
May I use the phone?
Give me a coffee.
In Marseilles.
With my uncle.
Hidoine just called. Join him with the chief.
Here's the address.
I hope he'll confirm that.
If not, we'll have to have a little talk.
- He's here. - Where?
You watch Désirée Street, first on the left.
I followed Jean-Baptiste Buisson here.
He went into the building at 8, Désirée Street.
I'll stay with Hidoine and Darros.
When we know exactly where they live, I'll arrest them.
By yourself, Dick Tracy?
The local precinct will help.
Got it.
But if you lose Buisson, I'll send you south after chicken thieves.
I know.
Robert, here's some food.
A beer, the other's for Darros.
Go easy on it.
Get lost!
- Here. Dying of hunger? - Just about.
Leave a little beer for me.
Now what?
It's too early to move in.
What about those guys?
Do they wait for dawn to kill everyone?
Goddamn!
Hey, the cops!
Cut the crap.
Get up!
Emile, the cops! Quick!
They tipped us off.
Go upstairs and get out by the roof. Hurry.
I'll see if it's clear.
Quick, get out!
Stop! Police!
Goddamn!
The ambulance is coming.
- Hello, Germaine. - Morning, Chief.
Hey, Borniche.
For a former paratrooper, you're not much of a jumper.
Chief, please.
If you'd pulled it off, this mess with Central wouldn't matter.
Clot claims he'd laid a trap for Buisson and that we fouled it up.
- Clot can go and - - But in the mean time,
we're in it up to our neck.
Chief, we have Buisson's brother and accomplice.
- What is it? - Still nothing.
We're searching the area room by room.
That's it.
- See? Still nothing. - So?
The brother will need a month in the hospital.
- And the girl? - She won't talk. She's a real lioness.
I have a meeting with the director at 2:00.
You know what that means?
Give me a detailed report.
Who's calling?
Catherine.
I'm fine. Who told you that?
A pack of lies!
Roger, why are you talking to me like that?
I know. I'm sorry-
Forgive me.
Really, I can't tell you.
I'll try to get free.
I'll do my best.
That's it.
I'll call this evening.
Yes.
Yeah, love you too.
But you don't understand.
Three or four days while I get him a room.
Thanks.
I've found a room in the suburbs.
An old friend.
When you see the Wop, give him the address.
Tell him to bring a Colt. 45.
Okay.
My God. You've had it, Bollec.
I'll see you guillotined together with the Buissons.
I'll bust your balls.
You'll never use them again, you swine.
Never again!
So that wasn't Emile Buisson with you?
It was - What was his name?
Repeat your bullshit.
Repeat it!
George Muller!
That's the name I knew him by.
I'll make you eat your own shit, you bastard,
if you go on taking me for a jerk!
You're not in the slammer yet, buddy.
He says the guy on the roof wasn't Buisson.
Interesting.
We'll see if your statement matches your sister's.
Then we'll have a talk.
You got a minute, Lucien?
Now what is it?
You know.
Want me to give gifts to a guy who kills a cop?
Maybe it wasn't him.
You can do your job without that.
Roger, you're starting to get on our nerves.
You act important, but you're not the boss.
Guys like that are vermin.
And vermin are for squashing, get it?
If it had been your brother or father that got gunned down,
maybe you'd see it differently.
- You think? - Yes, I'm sure.
Deep down, you're nothing but an amateur.
Let me tell you a story, Lucien.
A story I never tell.
Suppose I had a brother.
A guy I loved a lot.
In '44, the Lauriston Street Gestapo got him.
You catch my drift?
They were so "nice" to him that he died.
Don't mix things up.
I didn't join the force for that.
When I joined up, I knew I might be killed.
But I knew that being a cop doesn't put you above the law!
Using certain methods...
puts you lower down than your so-called vermin.
Have you sent Hollec's P.38 to the lab?
Yes.
- Nothing to tell me? - I don't talk to cops.
- You prefer crooks. - To each his own.
Crooks don't become a habit.
My guys don't have time to dirty the sheets.
You'll be accused of protecting a criminal.
That's rather good.
Buisson is a killer. He won't hesitate to kill you.
Then it's normal to rat him out?
You had guns in your place, and Buisson, who killed a patrolman.
You'll be charged along with the rest.
If you like.
Believe me, I'm not pleased that you'll go in for four or five years.
Thanks.
I won't insist.
You don't cooperate, I'll put you inside.
Not bad, eh?
- Mind if your brother's guillotined? - He hasn't done anything!
Unfortunately, he has.
And soon you'll have to choose between Buisson and him.
Well, my colleague will ask you some questions.
He'll note if you refuse to answer or refuse to sign.
There it is.
You're in a real mess.
Nobody but me has the slightest wish to save you.
How kind.
All yours.
Your name is Suzanne Bollec?
Is this gun yours?
You had it when we arrested you.
- You gonna deny that? - I didn't use it.
You couldn't. It was jammed.
Unfortunately for you, I have the ballistics.
Some bullets from your P.38...
were found in the body of Alfred Thibon...
Freddy the Accordionist.
Mean anything to you?
He got taken out on September 3,
the same day Emile Buisson escaped.
You don't waste time.
I had nothing to do with it.
But that's nothing.
Can't expect crooks to settle scores with a kid's game.
But your little gun also killed Officer Schmitt,
highway patrolman and father of three.
Photo enlargement leaves no doubt.
Look at your gun.
It's gonna cost you, René.
It's not mine!
No need to shout.
I showed it to your sister.
She recognized it.
I doubt it. She doesn't know a thing about guns.
Then tell me why you had it on you.
When I was clearing out, I took the first I found.
But it's not mine.
Then it's Emile Buisson's.
He wasn't with us.
Oh, yeah. That's right.
It was - What's his name?
That's right, Muller.
So it's Muller's gun.
You expect me to believe that?
I hope you like escargot.
They're very good.
A police officer brings them from the countryside.
It's Sunday tomorrow.
Shall I wake you for church,
Mr. Chabert?
I guess you don't like priests too much.
You were lucky.
Glad to see you.
Bring the supplies?
Get me a grenade.
A fragmentation grenade from the army.
What the heck you gonna do with that?
Blow up the first cop that comes my way.
- I went to the Armenian. - And?
Disappeared two days ago with the stuff.
What you make of that?
The doctor said not to take too long.
Number four.
I thought I smelled a pig.
Have a seat.
Good of you to come.
I get bored, miss my friends.
What's your name?
You've got the roles backwards, Jean-Baptiste.
Why should cops always ask the questions?
You the famous Borniche?
I hear you eat grilled gangster for breakfast.
About the Arbois Inn and Officer Schmitt.
There's little time. You're tired.
I'm fine. Stay as long as you like.
Bollec has confessed. This is routine.
Got a smoke?
I'll have one later while thinking of you.
Thanks, kid. Got a light?
The name of your guy?
René Bollec.
Never heard of him.
Ever hear of your brother?
I read he'd escaped.
I'll tell you his problem. He was in bad company.
Otherwise, he never would've hurt anyone, not even a cop.
I'm sure of it.
September 3, I was in Dijon. My sister will confirm it.
Hope you have another alibi for the court.
Borniche, I don't want to waste your time.
I'm 52. I'm not about to fall into your traps.
I know nothing.
I lost my memory in 1937.
Exactly 10 years ago.
Covered by the statute of limitations.
If you get that, you got it all.
Leaving already?
I got it all. No need for a statement.
- Here. It's the real stuff. - Thanks, cop.
Deep down, you're not a bad guy. Come back to see me.
I'll tell you all about Indochina. It might teach you something.
I'll leave the teaching to Judge Boissenade.
You'll see. He's a very serious guy.
That's all we need, the justice system in the hands of clowns.
Bye, Borniche.
If you see Emile, say hello for me.
If you have time.
Hands on the bar, Raymond.
What's the matter, Emile?
Where are the jewels?
The Armenian, he's checking them.
I told your brother.
You know where he is?
Must have heard it on the radio.
I just came down.
I went to bed late.
You bastard!
Borniche, Federal Police.
Raymond Pelletier, the owner. Shot behind his bar.
Buisson?
I was upstairs. I saw nothing.
I came down when I heard the shots.
Did he come here?
Did he come to see Raymond last week?
Raymond was straight.
It's disgusting to kill him like that.
Buisson's crazy. You don't have to protect him.
Who was with him?
Leave me alone.
Isn't this enough?
Who did he come with last week?
His brother and...
And?
Mario.
A wop.
He has a woman.
She's a hooker near St. Denis.
Know her name?
Jenny.
Is that all you can tell me?
Isn't that enough?
She's blond, Polish.
Thanks, Mado.
The Polack's in a meeting. Choose another one.
She just went up, I'll call.
I don't want her.
I want the Wop.
What? The Wop?
I'm in a hurry.
Perhaps you don't know Mario the Wop.
I do, but I never see him.
Do your best to see him.
If not, I'll have this rotten joint busted
I've got reasons enough to put you in the slammer.
Like the plan?
He never comes here, I swear.
He works in the Étoile area.
You can call him at the Calanques Bar.
I knew you wanted to help your country.
If he's really done something wrong,
it's only natural I should help a bit.
It's only natural.
There.
- Evening. - Number four.
Don't forget the tip, baby.
Go on.
Help! Robbery!
What's gotten into you? You crazy?
Call me at the Calanques.
I'll call you at the Calanques.
I came to make your bed.
I didn't ask you to.
- What are you looking for? - Nothing. Now I know who you are.
I just want to help.
Get out of here and don't come back.
Wait at the end of the street.
- Don't be long. - Ten minutes.
- Let's not miss the beginning. - You'll see the movie.
Evening, Ange.
Evening, Inspector.
Give me a martini.
- What's wrong, Ange? - Nothing, I'm fine.
You don't look it.
A little nauseous. I must've eaten something bad.
Take care of your health, Ange.
We'd hate to lose you.
Know him?
An Italian.
I'm told he comes here.
You were told wrong, Inspector.
Evil gossip.
The Italian do anything wrong?
Think about it. When we want someone, it's for his own good.
That's true.
No, you'll offend me.
Then I'll offend you.
See you soon, Ange.
Night.
You know who just left?
A cop.
Not just any cop, Inspector Borniche.
What did he want?
To know if Mario came here.
That's interesting.
Damn.
I was scared.
You should've told me.
I would have shot your buddy.
Bullets from the same Colt. 45.
Well?
The same gun killed Pelletier and the bank collector.
Buisson again.
They want you to listen to the tapes.
I had the phone in the Calanques Bar tapped.
A friend of Buisson's receives calls there. You never know.
Thanks, Mr. Legal.
What weather.
All we need is snow.
Got another recording.
Somebody called for Mario.
It must be Buisson.
Don't come. I've moved.
What time tomorrow?
5:00 in Vincennes Forest, Champigny Highway.
Where exactly?
The Fourchette, behind the yellow cabin.
- What car? - A black Simca 1000.
Bye, Mario. See you tomorrow.
Roger, he's leaving.
Let him go.
We'll get him at the Calanques.
If he sees he's followed, it's over.
I'll never get it.
Bust our ass to catch guys,
and once we get them, we let them go.
I waited over an hour.
It's odd he didn't show up.
He changes his mind sometimes.
Put yourself in his shoes. On the run, you get wary.
We should visit the factory in St. Denis.
There's no time to loose. Payday is Tuesday.
Yes, it's urgent.
Gentlemen.
Hello.
Jeannot, the friend I told you about for the next job.
I don't get it, Emile.
About the meeting?
I'll explain later.
- Miss. - Coming.
My treat.
Looks like the food's good here.
Very good.
I didn't expect to see you here.
You know...
no one ever expects to see me.
Sometimes I just show up.
What does that mean, Emile?
Nothing.
I'm having a laugh.
I like to have a laugh now and then.
Paulo said you ate here often, so we stopped by just in case.
I'll take a pâté to start.
Me too.
Good night, gentlemen.
Come to my place for a drink?
Where's that?
Ville d'Avray. I've got a little place on the road to Versailles.
I've got a date with a girl when she gets off work.
She can wait.
It's good for chicks.
You can't refuse a drink.
Must be the ignition.
I'll take a leak.
Not a bad idea.
Now, Wop!
What are you doing, Emile?
Born in the Year of the Rat, weren't you?
You crazy?
You asshole.
You keep out of this.
Paulo.
The Wop was an informer.
I didn't have time to warn you.
The cops were waiting at the meeting spot today.
He won't be chatting with them anymore.
Let's clear out. Quick.
Hurry up!
Quick!
The bastard.
"Worker, Former Resistance Member, Victim of Killer Buisson.
Our friend Guégan gave his life for Capital.
While Mr. Jules Moch's police are beating up miners in the north,
Emile Buisson is still on the loose, shamelessly killing innocent workers.
What are the geniuses at the Federal Police up to?
Where are these cops,
called 'supermen' by certain members of the press corps. "
That's for Borniche.
They attack Moch, he'll attack us.
Not to mention the unions.
Right now, it's a big joke.
- Where's Borniche? - It's his day off.
I'll give him a goddamn day off!
Along with the whole bunch of you!
The Buisson case is closed!
I'm taking you off it.
Get me Borniche at home.
Yeah, hurry up.
Good morning.
Yes, he's here. I'll get him.
It's for you.
- Who is it? - The boss.
Morning, Chief.
I can't answer so fast.
You know I've done everything I could.
Okay.
As you like.
I'm more likely to get him than Degreffe.
See you tomorrow, sir.
What was that about?
I'm off the Buisson case.
He woke you to say that? He's insane.
He's a civil servant.
He's afraid of his superiors.
You can't let yourself be abused like that.
Some days.
Some days what?
I'd like to be Emile Buisson.
For God's sake!
10,000 bread tickets,
as many gasoline tickets, and you deny it?
What, the devil goes to work in your print shop at night?
You should check my employees.
Nice work.
Come on.
Be reasonable.
If not, we might get mad.
Come with me.
A corpse near Versailles.
The chief chose us.
How kind.
I'll leave you with him.
I advise you not to waste our time.
Didn't find much. A settling of scores.
Let's see the face.
Come look.
Looks like the Wop.
Mario?
I'm sure of it.
I'll be damned.
How's that for luck?
You know him?
Probably know who killed him too.
That's great!
Now you interfere in our work!
Turn it down a notch.
What do you want? Got a warrant?
Warrant or not, you're coming with us.
I am not! I wasn't soliciting!
That guy your fiancé?
We're just looking for Mario's murderer. That's all.
I don't give a damn about him!
I got nothing to do with him. If he croaked, that's too bad.
I left him more than a year ago.
Want me to give him a first class funeral?
Maybe you know his friends.
I know nothing! And I've got nothing to say!
All I got to give is my ass!
That good enough for you?
Whatever you say, Jenny. We might take you up on that.
That's it! The pigs will send me a ham.
For Christmas.
What you laughing at, jerk?
Come to think of it,
you knew him too,
Mario the Wop?
No, not well.
His friends?
I never saw his friends.
You never saw anyone in the bar?
No, I swear, Inspector.
Just warming up.
- My glasses. - Don't need to see.
Just need to talk.
You skunk.
Well?
Who did Mario see?
If you got nothing to say, we'll get you for running a whorehouse.
Your deal with the Vice Squad won't help!
I don't know.
Sometimes he came with Paulo.
Paulo?
Paulo what?
The bomber, his wife is sick.
Syphilis?
No, TB. She's in a home.
Where does he live?
I don't know.
It's probably in our files.
Come on.
Alias Paulo the Bomber.
Listed in the special file, "The Fight Against Gangsters. "
Paul Roubier, alias Paulo the Bomber. Born March 29, 1904.
This might be a good lead.
- Well? - Look.
With Buisson in '42 at the Victories Street holdup.
They got off for lack of proof.
Victories or Victory Street?
Victories.
I'll send out a wanted notice.
No, just find his wife.
What?
Don't be sad.
See you next week.
- Give me a ride to Paris, Roubier? - What do you want?
We're not in the same club, but we can still have a chat.
The Pacra factory is offering a million to anyone helping to arrest the killer.
The killer is Emile Buisson.
You've worked for less.
Get that crooked head thinking.
What you're doing is disgusting.
If you refuse, it'll get even more disgusting.
You need streptomycin to save your wife.
I promise I'll get it from the States.
You gonna hesitate between a killer like Buisson and your wife?
Another thing.
I know you were a friend of Mario the Wop.
Emile killed him for nothing.
The Wop wasn't an informer.
Mr. Emile got that one wrong.
We'll spread the word around.
But in case you don't cooperate,
I'm sure you were in the latest holdups.
And I'll prove it.
I'll send you up for 15 to 20 years.
You'll never see your wife again.
I hate myself.
Me too.
But we have no choice,
either one of us.
Hi.
A tip, the Versailles tax office.
There's a pile.
- How much? - 12 to 15 grand.
The hideout?
I found something in the countryside, a hotel.
I know the owner.
Gotta find me a piece.
Mine's hot. It's gotta go down the drain.
I'll find you one.
A P.38, if possible.
I always liked them.
What? A gun for Buisson?
Are you mad, Borniche?
Do you realize what you're asking for?
A P.38,
if possible.
A P.38?
He prefers them.
What if we give him a Colt? Will he throw a tantrum?
You know what his temper is like.
Listen, Borniche.
This time you've crossed the line!
You put yourself back in charge of the Buisson case.
You invented a ridiculous story!
Excuse me, Chief.
You told me to investigate a corpse in the Ville d'Avray.
Am I to blame if it brought me back to Buisson?
- You kept it to yourself. - I wanted to be sure.
That suited you.
So,
now we give Mr. Buisson a vacation in a country hotel.
And on top of that, you want to give him a gun to shoot us with?
Really.
It's become a huge joke.
I'll get Buisson a P.38.
Where, Inspector?
A souvenir of French commandos.
If anything happens, I'll have you locked up.
Do you hear me?
Very well, sir.
My regards.
Here.
It wasn't easy.
Just kidding.
Your tax man?
Jeannot is working on it.
Tell him to hurry it up. I'm bored to hell here.
It's time I left France.
Bring a paper?
Damn.
If the government would get off my back,
I'd give the jerks more than a strike to worry about.
- Is the chief out? - Still in Lyon.
He'll be back at noon.
We'll have to go on without him.
Impossible, he'll be mad.
So he'll be mad.
- It's now or never. - Just a minute.
- Did you warn the local precinct? - No. If Buisson suspects anything,
we won't get him alive.
Moreover, Roubier says he always carries a grenade
to blow himself up if necessary.
You're insane. We're taking a huge risk, and we're not even covered.
It's a rule to warn the precinct and the chief.
Aren't we in the service?
I'm not forcing you to come.
- Alfonse. - Inspector?
- Put that on the chief's desk. - Right away.
- Asked for a car? - A special one is waiting.
You all right?
Fill her up, please.
Roger, the other side.
- Can we eat here? - Yes, sir. We have a restaurant.
Great!
We'll lunch here.
We can be at the clinic at 4:00.
- May I park here? - Of course, sir.
"Lunching with Buisson at the hotel.
Come for coffee. Respectfully, Borniche. "
Good God!
What's he doing?
Looking at the car.
He can take it. I have a plug.
You all right?
Going crazy, but I'm fine.
The table is ready.
- Take your pick. - Over there.
Here are the menus.
I recommend the chicken, a specialty.
The chicken will be great. Bring hors d'oeuvres first.
- For me too. - No, thanks.
I'll bring the hors d'oeuvres and a bottle of the local wine.
Yeah, thanks.
"Music soothes the savage beast. "
You play well.
Little things, not Chopin.
I like things like that better.
Know any other Edith Piaf?
Here you are.
Have you decided, sir?
Chicken.
Come and eat, Catherine. We're late.
Thank you, miss.
Excuse us, sir.
You're not giving him a concert.
He's got nice eyes.
He's about to move in, Roger.
Go ahead, laugh.
May I eat, ma'am?
- He's coming back. - Eat and don't turn around.
I think Le Caporal Epinglé should have won the Goncourt.
Read it?
Not much time to read
with all these strikes.
Literary awards are fixed by publishers.
How about some wine?
Excuse me, I forgot.
Excuse me.
Better call the clinic.
Yes, perhaps.
- Can we call Rambouillet? - Of course. What number?
- 432. - 432 Rambouillet.
Hello, miss. Mother Goose Inn here.
Rambouillet 432, please.
Hope you enjoy it.
Really?
Hold on a minute.
That number doesn't exist.
What?
It's the Ambroise Paré Clinic.
Wait.
Is this the Ambroise Paré Clinic?
- She make a mistake? - Ambroise Paré?
Mrs. Mercier?
Dr. Le Garrec here.
We're a little late.
Tell the boss I'll be there at 4:00.
We're on our way.
Yes.
Fine, Mrs. Mercier.
See you later.
- How's the chicken coming? - It's coming up.
Taste it. It's her specialty.
- Some bread, please. - Oh, yeah. Coming.
Excuse me, my wife forgot.
- Everything all right? - Great.
It's over, Emile!
The grenade! Good God!
What followed is routine police work.
Buisson imprisoned in the Santé.
I questioned him before a special commission.
Twice a week, I picked him up in a station car,
early in the morning.
- Morning, Mr. Borniche. - Hi, Emile.
Little by little, certainly not on purpose,
something strange happened between us.
Friendship would be a big word, but we became pals.
We nearly understood one another,
especially when talking about the weather.
- Come back for him at 6:00. - Very well.
So Emile would sit down.
With his free hand, he'd pour himself a glass of Bordeaux.
I bought him a bottle of it.
He'd take out his thick glasses and read the Figaro on the table.
It was 11:00.
I wouldn't question him till 12:30.
I'd go over the reports. A moment of peace.
Emile, just the news.
Why do you always read the Figaro?
Habit.
On the run, no one suspects a guy reading the Figaro. It's too serious.
At 2:00, serious work begins.
The stack of files on Mr. Emile were almost five feet high.
He was charged with 36 murders and holdups.
They threw the book at him.
But I had to go through all of it to separate truth from falsehood.
Emile confessed to everything except for the killings.
But I had condemning evidence,
unshakable witnesses,
and the P.38 business weighed heavily against him.
Shall we start?
Let's start, Mr. Borniche.
Our meetings went on for over a year.
Only once did the real Buisson show.
The day we talked about Paul Roubier, Paulo the Bomber.
That guy, Mr. Borniche,
I'd like to take a handsaw to his throat...
and stop from time to time to hear him scream.
I'm afraid you won't get the chance.
Yeah.
Too bad.
I sat in silence watching Buisson,
motionless in his chair,
his right arm hanging in the cuffs.
I thought to myself, "Emile has guts. "
Condemned to death by the Seine High Court,
Emile Buisson was executed on February 28, 1956.
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