Chapter Thirteen #2
Laurent reached into his bag and withdrew the portfolio he’d shown to the Groupe d’action committee.
He placed it open on the mayor’s desk. “We’ve had a bid for funding accepted by Groupe d’action, one of the national NGOs that’s based out here.
The situation in Northern France has drawn the attention of the EU, and they’ve made available a development grant designated for a local project in Calais.
Our proposal involves building a targeted housing facility that would accommodate the most vulnerable in the camp—the elderly, women, unaccompanied children.
We’d use wait-lists and a priority vetting system. ”
The mayor flipped through the pages of the portfolio as Laurent went on.
“A significant part of the construction costs would be covered by the grant. However, we were hoping the city would provide the remainder. We believe you have mechanisms available to request assistance from the government on humanitarian grounds. It would cost far less than funding the project independently. All the figures are in there. We’re also proposing a ground lease, which would be an additional source of revenue for the council.
I hate to use the phrase, but it really is a win-win. ”
Durand stared absently at the plans. “And how much is the remainder you need the city to foot?”
“Around seven million.”
The mayor let out a heavy sigh. “The council is struggling to finance a much-needed upgrade to our water-treatment plant, and you want us to pour even more money into handouts for these people?”
Asmarina leaned forward. “They’ve come here, having made a gamble on humanity, hoping we’ll help shelter them in their time of need.
And that camp is not shelter. For many, it represents danger, violence, and fear.
The least we can do is give them a decent place to stay while they figure out their next steps.
As if their journeys haven’t been harrowing enough, now they’re left to live like dogs?
No—worse than that. There are animals in shelters around this city that are better taken care of than the people living in that camp. ”
Durand looked at Asmarina, somewhat taken aback.
She clenched her hands tightly in her lap. “Perhaps that was a rather strong analogy…”
“It doesn’t make it any less true,” Rayan cut in. “The forces bringing people here are large and complex, but what we do about them when they arrive says a lot about who we are and our priorities. It shouldn’t be beyond our capacity as a city to provide people with a safe place to sleep.”
The mayor’s expression turned pained. “I understand the sentiment and truly appreciate the work you do, but the people of Calais have had enough. For years, they’ve had to put up with thousands of illegal squatters.
And now you’re wanting to give them a permanent reason to keep coming here?
We build something like that, and we create a fixing point.
They’ll never leave. I’m not going to roll out the red carpet for these people. ”
“‘These people,’” Rayan echoed sharply, “have children, parents, sisters, brothers. The woman who drowned at the beach last week has two little girls—just like you.” He stood and stepped forward to turn the photo of the mayor’s wife and daughters around to face him.
Durand reached out to steady the frame with his fingers. “I’m not denying that, but where do we draw the line?” His voice had gone quiet. “The refugees come from countries that should be looking after them. Why should responsibility fall to the residents of Calais?”
“Because they’re here, in our city,” Rayan said. “That’s the reality of the situation. We have the opportunity to prove that not everyone has abandoned them.”
The mayor gave him a pitying look, and Rayan fought against a bubbling anger. He knew how he would have dealt with a man like this before, but despite being back in his suit, Rayan had no power in this office. They had come with their hands out, hoping for his blessing.
“I think what Rayan’s trying to say,” Laurent interjected judiciously, “is that you get a chance to be the hero here, show the world Calais’s generosity. It would be a testament to your legacy.”
“I’m not concerned about my legacy. I only want to keep my constituents happy. Putting up with the camp is bad enough, but to use city money to build a migrant housing facility? There’s no way residents will approve.” He looked at Rayan pointedly. “That’s the reality of the situation.”
Rayan slammed his fist down on the desk, and both the mayor and Laurent jumped. “Can’t you see that this is about more than votes? This is about people’s lives.”
Laurent stood and placed a hand on Rayan’s shoulder. “It might be best if you waited outside.”
Rayan’s gaze traveled from Laurent’s grimace to the shocked expression on the mayor’s face, and he muttered something in the way of an apology.
“I think I’ll join him,” Asmarina said stiffly, and the two of them walked back out to the reception area.
Chastened, Rayan paced as Asmarina took a seat on one of the wooden benches. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“Better than sitting there smiling in that bastard’s face.” She tilted her head curiously. “You have a temper, Ayari. I wouldn’t have guessed.”
More than a temper. He had a violent streak refined to perfection. Rayan clenched his fists. He was still seething but embarrassed that he’d lost control like that. Especially with everything they had on the line.
Asmarina sighed. “It’s always the same—the fate of the many placed in the hands of the few. And a clueless few at that.”
When Laurent emerged from the mayor’s office, he looked crestfallen. “He said he’s required to bring the proposal to vote at the next council meeting, but he won’t be endorsing the project. It’s a no from him.”
“Even with the majority of the funding secured?” Asmarina asked.
Laurent shook his head. “It was too ambitious. He’s not interested in solutions.
” He began organizing the materials in his hands, slipping the letter of intent Karl had written for them inside the portfolio with the construction plans.
“Durand holds the keys here. If he won’t back it, I’m not sure there’s any hope for the project. ”
They made their way outside, and Rayan declined Asmarina’s offer of a ride home.
He left on foot, hoping to dispel the bitter curl of defeat on his walk back to the house.
He felt impotent, a fizzing ball of frustration.
In his pocket, his phone began to ring. It was the number of the service office at the camp.
“Rayan,” one of the volunteers said frantically when he picked up. “Can you come? We have a bit of a situation, and they refuse to talk to anyone but you.”
They? He crossed the road and doubled back in the direction of the port.
When he arrived at the Jungle, he hurried over to the cabin and found Farhan’s daughters standing outside, holding hands, as Amina wailed hysterically.
Around them, people went about their business, accustomed to living amid the full display of public emotion.
“Hey, hang on now,” Rayan murmured as he approached, but the girls recoiled, frightened. In his suit, he must have looked like a stranger. “It’s only me.”
“ Amo? ” Zahra reached up to tug on the hem of his jacket.
“Where’s your papa?” Rayan asked.
The girl shook her head. “Gone. They took him.”
Rayan felt a cold realization dawn. “Who did?”
“The bad men.”