We chose the sidewalk café in Marseille, away from the tourist area because they had fondant au chocolate and tiramisu. The fact it was named for the writer Colette, was a fringe benefit.
The café was at an intersection. Suddenly a police motorcycle, its siren at full volume pulled up across the street. He was followed by three more police motorcycles, also at full volume.
Within second a number of police cruisers had blocked the intersection and police with armed rifles (AR15s?) filled the intersection.
Two black armored trucks, three times the size of an ordinary Brinks armored car appeared, with more cruiser escorts.
They stopped in front of the Banque de France building. Nothing happened for a couple of minutes until the doors opened. The armored trucks went inside.
The doors closed.
All the police melted away.
It was like watching a trailer for a movie.
We went back to our desserts. We chatted with a man at a nearby table about Sherlock. Three women, probably in their early 20s, continued their card game. They had ignored the whole drama. It was strange to see young women at a café playing cards. Usually it would be old men with old fashioned cards and the young with phones.
Don McLean's American Pie was playing in the café and the soft tones escaped.
Rick thought it might be a swat team arriving. I thought it might be a cash delivery.
We will never know.
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