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also a few skivers like Karim Bouziane, off sick for six months for a supposedly sprained back as a result of shifting furniture for the Korean CEO during working hours. He soaks up the atmosphere outside the gates for a while then enters the factory. Nourredine lets him through with bad grace. What reason could be given for stopping him?
    Rolande arrives with a radiant smile, pushing a trolley laden with potatoes, onions, eggs and bread.
    ‘I heard about the occupation when I was at the supermarket, so I went round and asked the local shopkeepers for donations. All this is for you so you can have a hot meal tonight. My way of saying thank you.’
    Nourredine, touched, lets her in.
    ‘Come in, Rolande. At least as long as we’re in charge, you’re welcome here.’
    Then it’s the turn of the dignitaries, in their dark saloon carsand dark suits. All ill at ease, very ill at ease, the mayor with his tricolour sash, the deputy, more discreet, and the regional health and safety inspector who keeps a low profile. They shake a few hands, force a few smiles, tap Amrouche on the shoulder then come and talk to Nourredine and his crew in front of the gates.
    ‘The valley needs these jobs … Watch what you do … Mr Park, the CEO, is a reasonable man, we know him well … You should try negotiating …’
    What do they know of life in the factory, these three? And this health and safety inspector, with his useless site visits, his reports that are always favourable, not a single infringement in two years, in the most dangerous factory in the whole region, what does he know about the man who had his head sliced off, about Émilienne, Rolande or Aisha? Nourredine feels self-conscious in his tight-fitting jacket and grubby jeans. He’s seized by a kind of rage and fantasises about grabbing the health and safety inspector by the lining of his jacket, shaking him and banging his head against the gatepost, smashing his forehead, his nose, seeing blood pour down his smart navy-blue suit, then letting him go and watching him crumple in a heap on the ground.
    ‘… If Daewoo were to close down as a result of this strike, which is a possibility, I warn you, it would be disastrous for the entire valley.’
    ‘We worked hard to set up this factory here,’ adds the mayor. ‘I know what it cost the town.’
    Nourredine can’t think of anything to say to them.
    The fourth man, who has kept in the background until now, goes up to Nourredine, smiling, and holds out his hand. Tall and sturdy, he has a direct, straightforward manner. And his handshake clearly states that he’s not afraid of sullying himself by shaking hands with a worker. The manner, the gesture, the tone of voice – imperceptible signals of kinship: they’re from the same world, that of the factory, not exactly the same, but similar.
    ‘Maurice Quignard. I represent the European Development Plan committee.’ European subsidies, the great cash cow, translates Nourredine. ‘I spoke to your CEO on the telephone before coming. You know, he’s not a bad guy. I think this business is all a big misunderstanding. From what he tells me, the immediate sale of stocks should make it possible to pay some bonuses …’ Nourredine reels, finds it hard to breathe. After all , it is possible we rushed into this without thinking … ‘We just need to find grounds on which to negotiate.’
    ‘Negotiate, that’s all we’ve wanted to do since this morning.’
    ‘There’ll be no negotiations while the managers are being held.’ Nourredine is frankly taken aback.
    ‘Nobody’s being held. We’re stopping people from coming in, not from leaving.’
    ‘And the negotiations won’t take place here, under pressure, but at the town hall.’
    ‘I’m not the sole decision-maker.’ He casts about. ‘We’ll have to discuss it. Speaking for myself, there’s no problem.’
    Quignard steps inside the gate as if by right. Nourredine, caught unawares, wavers. Too late, Quignard is already