The word

Not until his jetliner touched down on the runway of Orly Airport outside Paris did Steve Randall feel safe. It was France and it meant freedom.

He took up his suitcase – he had not permitted it out of his sight while boarding this plane in Rome, and he had been allowed to keep it with him as hand baggage – and he joined the others leaving the jetliner. Quickly, efficiently, Randall was transported to the disembarkation hall. Falling in line with the other passengers, he stepped on the moving walk that ran through the transit corridor, and stepped off beneath the sign that read: PARIS. Here the activity was intense. This was what the French called the Police Filter or passport control.

Now, he was before the desk, and unsmiling policeman was holding out his hand. Randall released his suitcase and presented his green United States passport. The policeman turned a page or two of his passport, considered Randall’s photograph, glanced at Randall again and finally nodded. Retaining the yellow disembarkation card, he returned Randall’s passport and gestured him toward the Customs boxes. The policeman stood up and began to leave his stall over the protest of the other passengers waiting on line.

Suitcase once more in his hand, and with his free hand taking out the declaration form from his jacket pocket, Randall moved on to the nearest Customs box. Still holding his suitcase he handed the form to the official, eager to get through this formality.

The official looked up. “You have no other baggage to claim downstairs, monsieur?” This is your only baggage?”

• “Yes, sir. Just the one piece I have with me. I was away for just few days.” He disliked himself for these nervous explanations, but Customs agent, not only here but in the United States, made you feel guilty, when there was nothing to feel guilty about.

• “No goods purchased, or gifts received, or valuables acquired in Italy?”

• “Exactly as I stated in the form,” said Randall.

“I have only my personal effects.”

• “Nothing to declare?” the official asked again.

• “Nothing! You have my declaration. I’ve made it clear.”

• “Yes,” said the Customs official rising. He stepped out of his box, waited for another younger Customs man to replace him, and came alongside Randall.

• “Please, follow me, monsieur.”

• “Hey, what’s going on here?”, Randall protested.

• “We will go downstairs,” the Customs official explained, “a mere formality.”

• “What formality?”

• “Routine baggage check.”

• “Why not do it right here?”

• “We have special rooms off the baggage-claim hall.” He led the way to the escalator.

As they crossed the busy ground floor of the terminal, Randall protested once more. “I think you’re making a mistake, gentlemen.”

The officials did not reply. They led him into the hall where passengers were recovering their luggage from revolving belts, and guided him toward empty rooms with open doors.

• “Now, will you tell me why I’m here?” – Randall demanded to know.

• “Place your bag on the stand here,” the Customs man said quietly, “Please, open it for inspection, monsieur.”

Randall lifted his suitcase onto the stand. He went through his pocket for his key. “I’ve already told you there’s nothing to declare” he insisted.

• “Open it, please.”

Randall lifted the lid of his suitcase.

• “There you are. Go ahead and see for yourself.”

The Customs official moved past Randall and stood over the suitcase. He rummaged deep inside, found something and put it before Randall. It was a solid gray leather pouch.

• “What is this, monsieur?”

• “A cheap souvenir from Rome,” Randall said. “It’s worthless to anyone except me. I’m a collector.”

The Customs official seemed not to be listening. He opened the pouch and drew out the fragile leaflike fragment of papyrus.

• “Monsieur Randall, it is my duty to inform you that our Service of Investigation has been on the lookout for you. You have appropriated a priceless national treasure from Italy, without permission of the government. Such an act is forbidden by the Italian law, and you’ll be subject to a heavy fine ever you return to Italy.”

Randall listened, shocked with a disbelief. How could anyone possibly have known what he had in this luggage?

• “Our concern is,” the officer went on in faultless English, “that you hid in your luggage an object of great value, failed to declare it to our Customs, and, in fact, attempted to smuggle it into France.”

• “I hid nothing! I declared nothing because I had nothing of value to declare!”

• “The government of Italy appears to take another view of this papyrus,” the inspector said calmly.

• “Another view? There is no other view. What do they know about the papyrus? I’m the only one who knows. I tell you – listen to me, don’t make fools of yourselves, that papyrus is worthless in terms of money, it is an imitation. It has no value to anyone, except to me.”

• “That remains to be seen, monsieur. There are experts in these matters, and we are in contact with one of them already, to make a study and give an opinion. Until an examination is made we are confiscating this object.”

(by I. Wallace)

TASKS

Task 1. Answer the following questions.

1. What did Paris mean for Randall?

2. Why had Randall kept the suitcase with him as hand luggage?

3. How did Randall go through passport control?

4. Why did he feel guilty?

5. Did he have anything to declare?

6. Why did the Customs official take Randall downstairs?

7. What did the Customs official find in Randall’s suitcase?

8. Did Randall try to take a priceless national treasure out of Italy without permission of the government?

9. Why was Randall shocked with disbelief?

10. Why did he insist that the papyrus was an imitation?

11. Why was Randall subject to a heavy fine in Italy?

12. Who was to give an opinion on the problem?

Task 2. Problem questions.

1. What articles are usually detained?

2. What articles cannot be taken out of the country without a special permission?

3. Why were Randall’s actions regarded as smuggling? On what grounds?

Task 3. Over to you.

What are the Customs regulations in respect of valuables?