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Back The Frenchman
Chapters (76)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. AMIN
  5. PARIS
  6. … TWO YEARS LATER
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. CHAPTER FIVE
  12. CHAPTER SIX
  13. CHAPTER SEVEN
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. CHAPTER TWELVE
  19. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  54. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  55. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  61. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  62. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  63. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  64. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  65. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  66. CHAPTER SIXTY
  67. CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
  68. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
  69. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
  70. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
  71. CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
  72. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
  73. CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
  74. CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
  75. CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
  76. EPILOGUE

He walked back to the hotel using a different route to the tourniquet and ate a meal at a cafe across the road from the Marriott. His phone rang and he picked up. This was his Duboscq phone, only used to contact Raven, never his support team.

‘Hi, Anoush,’ he said, smiling as he answered.

‘Yousef likes strong, traditional cooking,’ she said, with a hint of mischief. ‘Do you mind a strong taste?’

‘Okay,’ said de Payns, going along with the joke. ‘I guess I need to arrive with a fire extinguisher for my mouth.’

She shrieked with laughter. ‘We’re Pakistanis, not Tamils! Don’t worry, it will not burn. I promise.’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘As long as there’s something to wash it down with.’

‘I’ve got something very nice cooling down as we speak.’

When de Payns walked into the Marriott, a new secret policeman was sitting in the same chair as the previous follower. De Payns smiled at him as he walked past and went straight up to his room. The bouletage was on the ground and the three-point alignment was way out. He was expecting this. A heavily guarded bioweapons scientist was going to meet with his sister for dinner, along with her mysterious French friend. At the very least the ISI would have a look at him, search his room and his bags and see where he went during the day. De Payns knew this and knew that his job was to hypnotise them with banality; almost annoy them with how boring he was. It was about regulating movements and gait, limiting his gaze to innocent tourism, and never letting a follower see that he had tradecraft.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER

FORTY-EIGHT

The minibus ride to the Taxila ruins was notable for the friendly patter from the driver and his expert commentaries on farm sizes, agricultural production and the role of irrigation in the Islamic Republic. The driver’s music selections leaned heavily on Helen Reddy, Dionne Warwick and Demis Roussos—none of them known for their piety, thought de Payns, but perhaps they were on an approved list for tourism operators.

They walked around the ancient compound of settlements, the oldest of which had been inhabited in 1000 BC. De Payns fell in with an American couple who had been in Israel, Turkey and Jordan and were now doing the Peshawar Valley. They were funny, and the wife—Amy—even had some French. The husband, Quentin, showed de Payns a flyer he’d picked up at the souk. In jumpy English it advertised ‘American Karaoke’, which, according to his new friends, was code for ‘serves alcohol’.

De Payns laughed. ‘So they gave this to an American who thought a Frenchman could use it more?’