The psychologist glanced at Martigny and frowned.

“Of course. That can be arranged,” he said, still in the same calm voice.

“And the car,” Star laughed. “Don’t forget the car. I’ll be needing that. I want Jean Lazare’s 1938 Rolls to take me out to the airport. But I don’t want it yet. I’m enjoying myself too much. Then—let me just run down the list again…”

He began to enumerate the list of absurd demands already made; the psychologist switched his microphone to mute. He glanced at Martigny, then at Rowland, then shook his head.

Martigny turned and spoke to the GIGN officer next to him; Star’s voice continued. When there was silence in the van once more, the psychologist switched off the mute button. Rowland watched the tapes revolve. His sense of powerlessness and fear increased by the second.

“Meantime”—Star paused—“it’s too bad—but we’ve got the shades closed, and the drapes, so we can’t see out, and, of course, your snipers can’t see in…” He giggled. “So you’ll have to tell me—this is causing a stir, right? You’ve got the press there now? The camera crews? No—don’t bother answering. I mean, you’re a straight guy, I can tell that, but you just might lie. That’s okay. Tell them I’ll be making a personal appearance, on the balcony out front, later tonight. Meantime, I’ll get Gini to take a look—don’t shoot or anything, will you? Gini—you want to do that? The far window. What? CNN? And—all the others? That’s great. Really great. You can go back to Pascal. Slowly. That’s it. Smart girl. It’s okay. Don’t cry. Pascal—you want to kiss her again? Don’t mind me. Go right ahead. You can fuck her if you like. You first. Me next… Only kidding. It’s these little pills I take, you see. They give me this—lust for life. I might just take a top-up right now… Oh, excellent. Oh, these are seriously good… Look, Pascal—I hate to say this to a Frenchman, you know—but your technique, it’s not so good. It’s too gentle. You know what really turns women on? Rough stuff. They really really like it when you smack them around.”

Rowland bowed his head. The psychologist interrupted.

“Christophe,” he said. “Christophe? Can I make a suggestion? Wouldn’t it be easier, better all around, if you could make a gesture of goodwill? In return for arranging the car, say, you release one of your hostages…”

“Gini?” Star laughed again. “You want Gini, right? I’m not so sure. She and I—we get along. I’d need to think about that.”

The psychologist made a small sign to Martigny; one finger held up.

“Then what I suggest is this. I call you back in exactly twenty minutes, okay? That gives you time to consider my proposals. You may think of some other things you need. There might be someone you’d like to talk to, and if there is, we can arrange that.”

“I don’t think so.” Star giggled again. “Not too likely. They’re all dead.”