Cautiously, Pascal moved around the table so the distance between them was slightly reduced. Star did not react. He had begun to touch Gini again. In a clumsy and ill-coordinated way, he began to squeeze her breast.

Gini flinched. “Star—let me just check the tape…”

She kept her eyes fixed on Pascal’s face. She could see his reaction to this mauling from Star; his expression was murderous. She tried to signal him with her eyes—don’t move, don’t protest. “Star—the first tape’s about to run out. It’s okay—I have plenty more. Let me insert a new one…”

“No. We don’t need it. It’s over. That’s it…”

“No, Star—it can’t be. I—there’s so many things I want to ask you. People will want to know how Maria reacted when you told her who you were—because you must have told her, Star, surely?”

“Yeah. I told her.”

“They’ll want to know what she said. And then they’ll want to know what happened next…” She kept her eyes on Pascal and frowned. “They’ll want to know why you decided to kill Jean Lazare—and what happened when you did…”

Pascal did not move a muscle. He could see she was trying to give him information and buy time as well. Was the blood still daubed on Star’s face and hands Lazare’s?

“People will want to know the facts, Star,” she went on. “Pascal’s a good judge—you think they’d be interested, don’t you, Pascal?”

“Sure.” Pascal kept his voice even. “It’s the details that make the difference.”

“Why I killed him?” Star laughed. “How I killed him? How I would have fucking killed her if I’d had half a chance? Sure, I’ll explain that…”

He flourished the gun, then jabbed it back in Gini’s neck. His reaction delay was now lengthening, Pascal thought. It had taken him nearly fifteen seconds to answer Gini’s question, yet he was clearly unaware of the time lapse, of Pascal’s own interjection. His mind was shorting, Pascal thought.

He was now allowing Gini to bend to the recorder and change the tapes. Pascal watched for an opportunity. None came. About twenty seconds after Gini pressed record, he pulled her back in front of him and began speaking again.

“You know what? He pleaded with me…” His voice rose.

“The great Jean Lazare. The emperor himself, down on his fucking knees, begging, offering me anything I wanted, if only I wouldn’t shoot. I liked that. Let me tell you—I enjoyed that. My fucking father, crawling on his knees to me. I’ve waited so long for that.”

It had been, Pascal saw, the wrong approach, an unwise, perhaps even fatal choice of topic. Star was excited again. There seemed to be a direct line in his head between the humiliation he was describing and sex.

He stopped speaking, pulled Gini roughly back against him, and began to ran his hands up and down her body. He rubbed himself against her back, his gaze never once leaving Pascal as he did this. He smiled, and his eyes took on a fixed, glittering look.