The man shook his head. Templar made the international gesture of silence, as Jean-Michel moved in to cuff him. Templar wiped the blood from his face and walked in the door, handgun raised. He could smell omelette and coffee. His stomach rumbled. To his right was a door, which he pushed open gently to find a bedroom, recently slept in. Across the corridor was another bedroom—two single beds, also recently slept in. He checked the bathroom, ducked in and grabbed a fistful of toilet paper, held it to his broken nose and wiped his face. He moved into another room, the living area which opened into a kitchen. To his right, two boys watched SpongeBob on the TV. He lowered his gun, hid it behind his back. The younger boy—Oliver—looked up. ‘Hi, Gael,’ he said, then turned back to the screen.

Patrick deigned to look away from the screen for two seconds, long enough to say, ‘Hi.’

‘Hi, boys,’ said Templar, scoping the room and walking towards the kitchen. He walked around the corner and in front of him, standing at the stove, was Romy de Payns, all blonde hair, green eyes and athletic. Always so glamorous, even in jeans and a T-shirt. She looked up from the pan and smiled. ‘Gael!’

He smiled at the greeting, but behind her, the fourth guard was spooked and reached for his handgun. As he did, Brent materialised at his side and held his gun arm, while Jean-Michel appeared at his other side.

‘Exercise complete,’ said Templar, nodding to his team, who walked the guard out the kitchen door. By Templar’s calculation, Romy and the boys should have no idea what just happened or how much danger they’d been in.

She came to him and gave him a hug and double kiss. ‘That’s a lot of blood,’ she said, reaching for a roll of paper towel.

‘I walked into a door,’ said Templar.

‘Hold that,’ she said, as she positioned the paper towel under his nostrils. ‘Well, the exercise was all a bit of a pain, but the boys thought it was fun,’ she said.

And then Romy de Payns moved back to the stovetop. ‘Sausage in your omelette?’

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

CHAPTER

SIXTY-TWO

De Payns lay on Briffaut’s sofa, exhausted and depressed. He felt sick, with worry and guilt. He’d spent so much of his life away from his kids and now he’d introduced them to a danger of his own making. Every spy’s nightmare.

At his desk Briffaut worked two phones. He hung up from a call, and asked Shrek what had happened with the shipment investigation from Sicily.

‘DR is getting back to us. They were going to use Interpol. They track suspicious freight.’

‘Chase them,’ said Briffaut and went back to his own calls.