‘Kind of like the old fable about the monkey using the cat’s paw to get a roasting chestnut out of the fire,’ Roth said. ‘It’s all about plausible deniability, my friend. You becoming involved turned out to be a golden opportunity for us. It meant we didn’t have to do anything much except watch from the sidelines. Anything bad happened to you, so much less embarrassment for the company. Plus, as a special bonus, it so happens that you’re better than any of our people. You proved that. You’ve got some useful friends, too. Of course, I did give you a helping hand now and then.’

‘Like the spy satellite that was watching the coast and spotted the boat coming ashore at Vaucottes,’ Ben said. ‘That’s the only way you could have known about the attack before the police did.’

Roth gave a chuckle. ‘Guess I gave myself away there, huh? Anyhow, credit where credit’s due. You did a pretty darn good job, my friend. Maybe you’d consider quitting that deadbeat shooting gallery you call a training school, and coming to work for us, too.’

‘That’s the second wonderful job offer I’ve had this week. I think I’d rather go off shooting rebels in Ethiopia for Ken Keegan.’

‘Think about it, man. Seriously.’ Roth grinned. ‘Let me tell you what you’re missing, though. See, this was never really about Nazim. He’s out of the picture, whoopee. But the guy was just middle-echelon. Small fry, in the great scheme of things. No, the real target all along was Nazim’s boss.’

‘And that would be who?’

‘His name is Ibrahim Mohammed al-Rashid. Iraqi, born on a little farm somewhere north of Damascus in 1949. To look at him, you’d think he was a sweet old grandfather. In reality he’s the meanest, most perfidious sonofabitch who ever lived, not to mention the smartest. We’ve been trying to nab him for years. Suspected mastermind of an endless parade of jihadist terror atrocities, but the wily old fox always seemed to be a step ahead of us. Try as we might, we just never could nail him down. Until now.’ Roth looked at his watch with an air of satisfaction. ‘As we speak, our dear Mister al-Rashid is on his way to a secret facility where he’s gonna spend the rest of his miserable life being very useful to us. Thanks to you, and Thierry Chevrolet.’

It took Ben a moment to understand. ‘The audio track.’

Roth nodded. ‘Segal was getting cold feet about the whole fentanyl thing. Nazim was worried he was going to screw up, so he mentioned the name al-Rashid to scare the living daylights out of him. That’s all it took to give us the solid connection we’d been trying to establish between the old man and the known bad guys.’