‘I would prefer it immensely,’ said László. ‘But tell me, where would this case have to go?’

‘Can you not guess?’ asked Emil.

‘No,’ said László, ‘not at all.’

‘Where are you most qualified to go? Where would you not be a stranger? Where do you know the language...’

‘The language?’ So that was it! He had been chosen not because he was “a friend of justice”, but because he spoke an impossible language!

‘You want me to go to Hungary?’

‘To Budapest,’ said the woman.

László threw back his head and laughed: he couldn’t help it. What fun the gods were having with him now! It was strange, however, that he had not seen it coming.

‘Who,’ said Emil, leaning forward and lighting a cigarette, ‘could suspect your motives in going there? You know the city...’

‘I have not been there since ’91.’

‘How much does a city change in six years? And you have relatives there.’

‘Two rather dim cousins. A very elderly aunt. My brother...’

‘...is in America. We know all this. The point is that I would be a foreigner there. My presence would immediately be suspect. I am also well known to the Serbian informers in Paris, of whom there are many. The moment I left my apartment it would be reported.’

‘But why Budapest?’

‘That is more than you need to know,’ said the woman.

László shook his head. ‘You will have to do better than that.’

‘We go,’ said Emil, ‘wherever there are people who will provide the items that we need.’

‘I know Budapest has its share of Ukrainian mafia,’ said László. ‘Are these the people you are dealing with?’

Emil held up his hands, palms out. ‘As my colleague has said, that is more than you need to know. Or rather, more than I am at liberty to tell you. Suffice to say that when one goes shopping one does not always admire the character of the shopkeeper.’

László tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the sweat from his eyes. ‘Supposing,’ he said, ‘that I considered doing as you ask – and for the moment I commit myself to nothing – when would I have to leave?’

‘Six, perhaps seven days’ time.’

‘And I would receive this case in Paris?’

‘We will give you the details when we have your answer. You must please inform us by fifteen hundred hours tomorrow. If we have not heard from you by then it will be assumed that you do not wish to help us. You will not be contacted again. And this meeting will not have happened.’

He passed over a slip of paper with a number on it. ‘Call from a public telephone. Do not say who you are. Simply ask “Is Françoise there?” Nothing more.’

‘Is Françoise there.’

‘We will take care of the rest.’