This is an authorized translation in English of a post in French by Vincent Le Roy (@vincentleroy): LE DOSSIER VALMY (Thriller) : Chapitre 2

^{As my primary language is not English, there are probably some mistakes in my translation.}

Remember that the person who speaks here is NOT me, Vincent Celier (@vcelier), but Vincent Le Roy (@vincentleroy), a French guy.

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Chapter 2: Breaking the ice

The first hour of interrogation is devoted to my identity. When and where am I born and what were my studies? I answer with a little nervousness and quickly, the slightly weak level of questions brings me a certain serenity. Orally, I am rather comfortable. Their lawyer knows that, this cunt of Alex warned him and he's a little suspicious. We observe each other, we measure ourselves and the first hour will only serve to break the ice.

Nothing really interesting happens during the first hour. What does it change to know my career? I'm 35 years old and everything has been going on for the last three years. Well no! Their lawyer wants to know everything and begins with my birth, as if a major element could have been happening then. I bow and execute myself. Of course with each question without interest, I stiffen and I see the reproving eye of my own counselor. You answer, nothing more. I do not have the choice of the question nor of its relevance since it is the principle. They have the right to ask me any question.

Death in the soul, I am performing so to speak. So I was born in 1972, a scientific baccalauréat in 90, maths sup, math spé then engineering school. Incidentally, I gleaned a master's degree in mathematics, and a certificate in law and economics. Since their lawyer wants details, I give him some. Everyone relaxes. And besides, this first relaxation will not be favorable to them.

• Would you say Monsieur Le Roy that you are a "chemist"?

• No, it's not my title but because of my education, I have a scientific background including in chemistry, so that I am able to understand reactions and understand the world of chemistry. Like any polytechnic engineer.

• ah ...

I can see that it does not suit him. For a moment, I wondered if he was not hoping I would tell him that I did not know anything about it and that I was a perfect crook. In my head, I smile because it is only the beginning, guys.

I follow:

• While Mathieu does not have these skills ... only two years after high school.

My lawyer, who until then had put himself in the best position to doze, jumps up on his chair and yells at me:

• Answer to the questions and only to the questions!

The violence is such that it is not an advice but an order. It's decidedly hostile in the area. In this kind of case, the idea of ​​being led to the rod produces in me an impulse of effrontery, and in fact their lawyer will give me an opportunity that could allow me to drive the nail despite vociferations of mine:

• Why do you say that?

My lawyer is shouting again:

• OBJECTION!

And this is our first objection. For nothing. I will have to admit also that my lawyer is bad and that it would be better to let me do and talk about Mathieu.

Mathieu, it's Alex's son. To understand, we have to go back a bit. We were living in the same city and college, we had become friends. Our moms had sympathized between stay-at-home moms who have nothing else to do but worry about class councils in parents' associations. When I was 14, I even went on holiday to their home. In their family. In the south of France. This is where I met the grandfather. A real character.

All this little world was scared of it and they had recommended me to be discreet throughout the car trip. Attitude unknown to me and in fact, it will not happen that way. The patriarch, at the head of his company for 50 years is almost a billionaire. Our first meeting was rather interesting. I remember his arrival on the property near Arles. I had never seen a property of this size and while I was walking in the park, the Rolls-Royce arrived at full speed. In the last turn, the car stops after skidding to arrive in front of an automatic garage that opens without discussion. Floor with carpet! And even a Ferrari F40 ... "God" comes out of the vehicle and I fix it from the top of my 14 years.

• You're a little crazy doing that! You will crash your car!

It had escaped me. Instinctively. That turns out well. The man was not lacking of instinct. Affected by his family of cowards who were just waiting for him to break his neck, he stares at me and replies:

• Who are you?

The guy approaches. He is not tall but he is impressive indeed. And he speaks to me again before I realize that I just transgress all instructions instilled during 800km:

• You know how to dive?
• Yes!
• So I will see you at the swimming pool!

From that time, I keep only the memory of this man feared and respected in France, and especially within his family, who had appreciated my effrontery and my naivety. I have memories of several discussions in the kitchen with this gentleman in the morning since we were the only ones to get up early. I also remember the family terrorized at the prospect of confronting the boss and patiently waiting their turn to share the legacy. A man who lacked intelligence in his offspring would leave hundreds of millions of Euros as their only weapon and salvation.

And then, with age, Mathieu and I lost sight of each other for fifteen years. In May 2004, I had the idea to call his parents to hear from my boyhood friend. The number has not changed and it is the mother with a singing southern accent who picks up.

• Oh Vincent! But it's amazing! Mathieu is here. He is a little depressed. His company has just filed for bankruptcy ... He is with his father. Stay on the line, I'll tell him, it'll make him happy.

And that's how I saw Mathieu in Paris. We had lunch in an excellent restaurant on the terrace, next to the stars of TF1. A cafeteria for wealthy people. He tells me briefly his story, made of dreams and chimerical ideas in which his father has engulfed two million Euros. Pure loss of course. Mathieu has not changed. It's anything except an industry genius, but he is lucky to be well born. Two million at his level is a drop of water.

I tell him about me. Another world. The Valmy file. From the outset, I explain the case. I created a company with chemists who have come up with a revolutionary product: a polyurethane that does not burn. More than a great speech, I have a sample and lighter in hand, I burn the sample. Nothing. No flames. No smoke. And a market of a billion and a half just for Europe. Mathieu who has a technician certificate in construction understands immediately the stake.

I follow on the new European standards, the absence of competition etc ... and that I recently recapitalized the company after a difficult moment. It must be said that the development had not been easy but the products are there. I also have new shareholders, fresh money and a development plan.

His eyes are shining. I saw it. And he said to me:

• I'm going to Canada for family matters. But if I can give you a hand, do not hesitate. Send me all the necessary documents. I'll read that on the plane.

What I'm doing right away. It's May 2004. Just three years ago.

Their lawyer knows nothing about these steps. He continues his interrogation with futile questions and the mid-day debate ends with the notion of "diplôme d’état", a qualifier that seems to impress in Quebec.

Basically, I am very comfortable, I know my file by heart. Each piece is like a globule in my blood, I live it, I breathe it, and you just have to push me a little and that they will come out in a relevant way and not out of black binders. I can almost justify everything and I have my laptop to dig into the mails all the evidence in support of my answers.

At noon, the two lawyers ask for "off time". Lunch is necessary. Both for a strategic point of view as well as food. See you at 2PM then.

-- Vincent Le Roy

Continue to Chapter 3

Introduction
Chapter 1