ABSTRACT
The ferry chugged beneath the gaze of Zinedine Zidane, whose brooding image lled the gable end of a building overlooking the entrance to Marseilles harbour. Big Tommy adjusted his ample frame, making himself as comfortable as he could on one of the hard wooden bench seats that covered the small vessel’s outer deck. The ferry was bound for Archipel du Frioul, a scattering of fortied rocks that once guarded Marseilles harbour. For centuries the islands were used to isolate victims of the plagues which had ravaged the city. Today it would play host to another pest: Big Tommy and his gang of ticket touts were having a day o.
