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tome 1

DISCLAIMER In the industry, I have always been known as a man of integrity, loyal in friendship and lawful in business. Slander, gossip, and gossip have never been my cups of tea, nor even in my nature. I have always fought these moral deviations, sometimes with weapons in hand, and it's not today that I'm going to change, as the planets are all pointing in the right direction for me, both materially and in terms of love and health. However, some readers will be shocked by my words. But I do not relate these events because I have some need for notoriety, simply because I need to re-establish certain truths by giving my own version of the facts. Very quickly in life, my passion for women was supplanted by my passion for coke. A shameful passion that I recommend to no one. Indulging in a multitude of new follies that coke and money made me discover, I added a copious appendix to the interminable catalog of the vices which had reigned before me in the most dissolute societies. Yes, I have sailed endlessly and with a certain recklessness on the verge of extravagance. I was already well known in Spain, where I had been sentenced to forty years in prison in absentia, after having escaped twice. In Holland, after a few years behind bars, they made me a social fugitive: what is called in this country a detainee at the disposal of the government, on whom anyone can shoot without being pursued by the police or Justice. I did not want to acquire this notoriety of criminal in France, but a few tickets and a huge demand for cocaine decided otherwise. Me, the son of a good family, I found myself propelled in spite of myself on July 22, 1986 to the front page of the newspaper France-Soir: "The whole of Paris loses its supplier of cocaine". It was the culmination of an investigation by the narcotics and pimping brigade of the Quai des Orfèvres which had not started by chance, resulting in the hearing of several personalities for the use of narcotics. These famous clients whose names I am revealing today. If the United States were at the time submerged by cocaine, France had been affected since the beginning of the 1980s. Cocaine was then essentially prized by wealthy circles, the world of entertainment and advertising, which would broadcast this " mode ”dangerous throughout the country. More than thirty years later, while France is in turn inundated with products from South America, it is time, in my opinion, to break this taboo ...

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tome 2

From Marbella to Paris via Amsterdam… In 1972, while I was living in Marbella, the most beautiful coastal town in Spain, where I had been living since 1964, I suddenly decided to leave to follow a pretty Dutch woman, who had succeeded. to conquer my heart, my soul and my body, in this Nordic paradise that was at the time the city of Amsterdam. Until then, Marbella had seemed to me the city that most suited my personality. For me, a great hunter of women before the Lord, it was a hunting ground rich in female prey and practically inexhaustible. The most lively city, the best "frequented" in terms of "permanent residents", and, with its architecture, nature and the cleanliness of its beaches, it was in my eyes the most amazing, the most wonderful, quite simply the most welcoming in Spain. What made it, in my mind, to end my days there was, all things considered, the best option. However, fate having decided otherwise, one day I had to resolve to leave it, this little paradise, with a heavy heart. But Holland, known to be ultra permissive, was the only country where I could put my bags and settle without too much risk of ending my life at the bottom of a dungeon, as had happened to me once in Spain. I already had a mentality of outlaw, revolutionary, excessive marginal when leaving Iberian soil, where I thought I had seen everything, heard everything, lived everything. But Holland, in addition to reinforcing me in my amorality, and later France in my immorality, showed me that I was still far from reality ... Indeed if I thought I had tried everything, understood everything and knew everything about human nature after a few years in Marbella, and after having frequented there gangsters from all over the world - who were hiding there or spending well-deserved vacations there, and who, protected by the mayor who was willingly bribed, did all kinds of illicit business in the sight of an even more corrupt police - I quickly became disillusioned after a few months in Holland. Indeed, this country which had been described to me as being an excessively democratic, permissive and not very "mean" in terms of judicial sentences, quickly appeared to me as being the international university of open-air crime, and of all kinds ... A real haunt of international pirates of great scope and quality, but very "friendly" and bon vivant. A few years later, after an enchanting and unforgettable stay in this country during which I had applied myself to perfecting my criminal education - as is done in all prisons in the world - to become a fine and distinguished thug (which I do not was not before), I decided to go to Paris. This city that the whole world agreed to say that it was the capital of refinement, good manners and good manners, in short all that was lacking in Dutch education which was based only on pragmatism , straightforward American business tinged with lawless piracy. It was a big mistake to come and settle in Paris, because what I was going to discover was going to be beyond my comprehension, I who was nevertheless a little demented… I swear it! Rather than a dancing Paris, happy and alive, full of pleasant people, I discovered a city of hypocrites, envious, informers, vicious and perverts; a country overflowing with crooked politicians and parliamentarians, cocaine addicts for the most part and great givers of lessons, who spent their time lecturing us and urging us to respect the highly liberticidal laws and the prohibitions that they constantly contrived to concocting us, while they themselves blithely broke them. Without forgetting the critics, the impediments to going around in circles, who are on earth only to piss off those who do not share their ideas, sinners before the Eternal to whom they show the way with a lot of hypocritical sermons, while they are rotten to the core ....



Dans Dealer du Tout-Paris, Gérard Fauré évoquait brièvement sa jeunesse marocaine. Il revient ici sur cette période cruciale qui l’a initié à la drogue, aux complots politiques et aux vices cachés des élites. Ce récit étonnant permet de mieux comprendre comment il est devenu le « dealer du Tout-Paris » et jette une lumière crue sur le rapport des dirigeants français avec le Maroc depuis 50 ans.

Fils du médecin de la famille royale marocaine, Gérard Fauré découvre à travers son père les circonstances troubles de la mort de Mohammed V, qui a permis à son fils Hassan de lui succéder ; les manoeuvres des services secrets français pour s’assurer l’obéissance du nouveau roi ; et enfin le complot ourdi par le général Oufkir, chef des services secrets marocains, accusé d’avoir fait assassiner l’opposant Ben Barka, pour s’emparer du trône.

À peine sorti de l’adolescence, Gérard Fauré devient l’amant d’une femme de pouvoir charismatique qui reçoit chez elle toute la haute société marocaine : Hadja, épouse du général Oufkir. Malgré lui, il est alors mêlé à des affaires d’État qui le dépassent. Amoureux comme on peut l’être à 25 ans, Gérard devient un simple pion du « Grand Jeu » des puissances occidentales au Maghreb. Manipulé par sa maîtresse, menacé de mort, il va vivre un véritable thriller, bientôt pourchassé par les polices de plusieurs pays.

Récit d’une éducation sexuelle, politique et criminelle, cet épisode inédit livre quelques clés de l’histoire contemporaine, et dévoile comme jamais les blessures secrètes d’un jeune homme appelé à devenir l’un des grands voyous de son époque.

tome 3

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