De Payns wanted to say, He’s a friend of mine, but that would open up too many other options for Manerie. The DGS had him—he’d met with a person of interest and not made a compte rendu d’entretien, an official declaration of contact. Total disclosure was a basic condition of employment in French intelligence.

‘I’m not interested in Moran,’ said Manerie. ‘I assume your conversation with him was advancing France, perhaps even some shared history between your families?’

De Payns nodded; Manerie obviously knew that the Morans were friends of the de Payns.

‘But,’ continued the director, ‘we have a failed operation in Sicily. Are you not curious about that?’

De Payns shrugged.

‘And we have, what is it, five French passports?’

‘Sounds about right,’ said de Payns.

‘Where are they right now?’

‘Destroyed and sitting in three rubbish bins at Porto di Palermo.’

Manerie stared at him. De Payns stared back.

‘So,’ said Manerie. ‘Dead people, failed operation, missing passports and suspicions of a mole. Your file doesn’t suggest you’re a man who’d be happy with that.’

De Payns breathed out. ‘They’re not missing, they’re destroyed. By the book. What do you want me to do?’

Manerie smiled. ‘Jim will get a démarqué phone to you and he’ll create a plan de liaison, with a dead mailbox.’

‘Are we looking at anyone particular?’ asked de Payns, feeling sick.

‘I want you to consider the people you’d never really suspect,’ said Manerie. ‘I want to hear your suspicions before anyone at the Cat hears them.’

‘I trust everyone I work with.’

‘Of course, of course,’ said Manerie, trying for a jovial tone. ‘But I’m not friends with any of your colleagues. For me it’s a just a question of: Who knew everything? And who fucked us?’

‘That’s a small group,’ said de Payns, as the cleaners departed the carriage and took their yellow sign with them.

‘Very small,’ said Manerie. ‘As an example, how well do you really know Guillaume Tibet? This is just an example, of course …’

De Payns’ breath caught in his throat. Was the man serious? He looked away for fear the director might guess that de Payns wanted to kill him.

‘Act as planned in Paris, okay?’ said Manerie. He stood and grabbed de Payns by the shoulder. ‘All for France, right?’

After Manerie and Jim departed, de Payns sat there, stunned. The director of security at the DGS had warned him to keep an eye on his own team—and Shrek in particular.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER

SEVEN