Lorraine Connection Read Online Free PDF

wiry enough to withstand the Lorraine climate. Behind the tinted mirror glass façade are the executives’ offices. The senior and middle managers, Korean and French, must all be there, watching from behind the windows. They are invisible, but the awareness of their presence weighs down on the workers, they feel exposed. At least there’s no sign of any lorries, which feels like a small victory. Maybe there won’t be any lorries, it could all be a false rumour. They take what comfort they can from that. Carry out another recce. Two huge sliding gates are electronically operated from the porter’s lodge. One gate leads to the staff car park to the right of the factory; the left-hand one is the lorry route to the warehouse and the loading bays. To the right again there’s a pedestrian entrance. Between the two gates stands the porter’s lodge, a flimsy building with two huge windows. Twenty people should be able to fit in there. For the time being there are only two security guards, staring out of the windows at the workers without moving.
    They must go in. Amrouche has joined the workers, his expression inscrutable. The delegation reconvenes and enters the porter’s lodge. Again it’s Nourredine who’s the spokesperson. ‘We’re occupying, we’re taking control of the gates.’ The security guards are two men the wrong side of fifty, beefy, pot-bellied and wearing navy-blue jackets marked ‘Security’. They shrug. ‘As you like, we’re not Daewoo employees and our chief has instructed us not to get involved. He simply told us to maintain a presence in the porter’s lodge, and he’s sending two colleagues as backup to patrol the premises. You’ll be able to identify them, they’ll be wearing the same uniform as us.’ Nourredine asks them to show him how to open and close the gates. It all seems simple. Outside,a feeble sun has finally broken through and the workers have resumed their conversations. They amble around in small groups, already at a loose end. A few women go inside the porter’s lodge to warm up, others start drifting back to the cafeteria.
     
    The first workers from the second shift begin to arrive, mostly by car. Nourredine opens the right-hand gate. They leave their vehicles in the car park then return in small groups, and informal discussions break out between the two shifts. No bonuses this year. No, it’s not a matter of December payments being delayed, but of no bonuses at all. What about the February agreement? All bullshit. The women talk among themselves. With Christmas coming, no bonuses means no presents for the kids. Reactions veer between anger and disbelief, in an atmosphere of chaos.
    Just then Nourredine, who’s still watching the main gate, sees a convoy of three huge articulated removal lorries emblazoned with their company logo crawling towards the roundabout in front of the factory gates. He presses the switch to close the gate, which doesn’t budge. A surge of adrenaline, sweat, turmoiled thoughts, the lorries’ arrival timed to coincide with that of the second shift, gates blocked open from the inside offices. If the lor ries get in, there’ll be fights, the police, and we’re fucked. He rushes outside yelling:
    ‘The lorries, the lorries! The gate’s stuck, block the entrance, block the entrance.’
    The lorries move forward in a slow, relentless convoy. The first one turns on to the roundabout in a majestic curve. The shapes of three men can just be made out in the cab. Two hundred or so workers, only the men, with Hafed in the front line, his jaws clenched. The rest race for the gate, arms linked, and grip the gateposts. They stand several lines deep, united, together, hearts pounding.
    Behind the human barricade, Nourredine and five other workers all had the same idea at the same time. Pile up some empty pal lets and set fire to them with lighters, that’s all we’ve got. Shit! Let’s hope they catch alight. They catch alight.
    The first lorry turns into