Moments later, he passed an incoming fleet of police cars with lights and sirens going. The cavalry had finally arrived, and were headed towards the social housing buildings up the street. He watched them screech to a halt and clamber from their cars. A small but hard-looking female plain-clothes officer with shoulder-length fair hair jumped out of the lead vehicle, wearing an open jacket that showed the sidearm on her hip, and marched towards the building with a look of fierce determination. Detective Boucher, personally leading the troops to bring Romy Juneau’s killer to justice.

Ben smiled to himself as he drove past them with Michel Yassa in the boot. ‘The early bird gets the worm, Valérie.’

Chapter 19

When Nazim al-Kassar arrived at the Georges V, one of Paris’s most exclusive hotels, the venerable Ibrahim al-Rashid was sitting quietly on a sofa in his suite with several of his retinue around him, as well as his personal bodyguards and a number of other members of their group.

Al-Rashid was surrounded by an aura of great authority and commanded the deepest of respect. Nobody knew exactly how old he was, but his long beard was as snowy white as his turban and the traditional thobe robe that draped around his tall, slender, slightly stooped frame. To his devotees, one of the many proofs of the man’s infinite wisdom was the fact that he had never been charged, or even questioned, in connection with any jihadist organisation or act. This was the ultimate demonstration of al-Taqiyya, the art of dissimulation, whereby the Qur’an provided detailed guidance on those circumstances under which the faithful could disguise their true ideology in order to deceive and protect themselves from the infidel. For nearly forty years al-Rashid had orchestrated his terror operations from behind a curtain of calculated secrecy, while maintaining the outward appearance of a saintly and humble man of peace. As a result he was able to travel freely around the world with no need for the aliases and false identities his soldiers required to stay one step ahead of the infidel intelligence services.

One of the means by which he preserved his anonymity and freedom was the swift, unhesitant elimination of anyone he suspected even slightly of treachery. Another was his strict avoidance of any form of modern communications technology. He would have nothing to do with telephones, let alone texts or emails. All discussion was to be carried out face to face, and even then only in utmost secrecy.

Nazim wasn’t armed, but let al-Rashid’s stern-faced bodyguards frisk him before he was allowed to approach. One of them swept him with a hand-held scanner to check for wires or microphones. Normally Nazim would not have submitted to such indignities, but he said nothing.