‘Some hard work, some luck,’ de Payns shouted as Templar joined him. Shrek was using a car to the left as a hide. There was another car between the Y Division guys and Winnen, and he thought about running for it, but when he stuck his head out to assess the distance another bullet pinged into the Peugeot.

De Payns ducked back to safety. ‘You know, Heidi, this is sick what you’re doing,’ he said, as Shrek continued to outflank her. ‘Putting that shit in drinking water.’

‘It’s science, Monsieur Dupuis. Or should I call you Aguilar?’

‘Really?’ he replied. ‘You’re smart, you’re an engineer, you could do anything. But you’re poisoning Paris? Think about what you’re doing.’

Winnen didn’t pause. ‘Oh, I’ve thought about it a lot, thanks Aguilar. I’m where I want to be.’

‘Poisoning a whole city? Your parents must be so proud.’

‘You know something?’ she replied. ‘The West is a virus—a disease that is killing every other culture.’

‘It’s assisted most cultures to improve their standard of living and their life expectancies. Raised expectations for girls and women, too. Not a bad CV.’

‘It’s a cancer and we’re right here in the middle of where it all started,’ shrieked the Dutchwoman. ‘Every disease has its starting point and the origin of the Western plague is Paris.’

Templar moved to the car to his right as more gunfire shook the building behind them. De Payns attempted to keep Winnen talking, buying time. ‘You know, I met the architect of this bioweapons program, in Islamabad.’

‘I heard,’ said Winnen, shuffling to check on the other side of her van.

‘Bijar was a most unimpressive human being,’ said de Payns. ‘With leaders like that, who needs criminals?’

Winnen laughed. ‘You’re a funny guy, Aguilar. But he’s a genius—what would you know about that?’

‘Not much,’ admitted de Payns, keeping his gun sights on the back of the van, where her booted feet told him she was looking to where Shrek was creeping closer. ‘But an hour ago I was smart enough to work out Murad’s true identity.’

There was a pause, no longer cocky. ‘I doubt that.’

‘Nasim ul-Huq, a campus radical at the University of Amsterdam,’ said de Payns. ‘Must have made quite an impression on young Heidi, with all of that horseshit about Palestine, while Arafat gets rich on Iranian oil money.’

‘What would you know about Palestine?’ she yelled, betraying anger. ‘You French! Oh my God, you’re worse liars than the Israelis!’

‘You really think Nasim cares about Palestine? He’s Pakistani intelligence.’

There was silence again. ‘Liar!’

‘Well, he recruited you, Heidi. Tell me, did he ever share with you the millions he makes from the Taliban’s heroin sales?’