They swiped through the security gates, overseen by DGS guards, and rode the elevator to the third floor. There was none of the buzz and work atmosphere of the lower floors, where the DR—the intelligence section—and the administration people operated. Those people were not allowed to meet de Payns or members of the Y Division. No one could access the Y files or see the true identities of the Y operatives. To the DR analysts, Alec de Payns was known only by his OT number. The DR analysts were not even allowed to read a Y agent’s ‘R’ reports. Those contained personal observations and incriminating information gleaned by the agent and they were reserved for the eyes of the BER—the ‘area’ executive—and locked in his or her safe. The analysts could only read the ‘O’ reports from Y agents; they contained the open or objective information, and on reading them it was unlikely that an analyst could detect who had provided the secret information or what the agent had done to secure such intelligence. In the parlance of the Company, there was no R in O—which came out in French as no air in eau.

They paused at a small kitchenette in front of a wood-panelled door. The red-headed man told Templar he was getting the managers and he moved out of sight.

‘You okay?’ asked Templar, taking a capsule from the rack and placing it in the coffee machine.

‘I’m fine,’ said de Payns, though his head was swampy with fatigue and he was preoccupied with the approach from Manerie.

‘Haven’t seen Shrek yet,’ said Templar, his heavy-featured face impassive under a mat of short black hair. ‘I mean, not in Paris.’

De Payns knew Templar wanted to hear about Palermo, but he couldn’t discuss it before going through the debrief. He took the proffered coffee as two men came around the corner. Christophe Sturt, the DR director, looked sharp in his four-thousand-euro suit and that famous grooming that required weekly visits to the barber. Directors of the DR were generally very well educated, and had done a few ‘postes’ as the declared DGSE representative in embassies. They were always a pure product of the system, a person who could say France as if she were his wife. Sturt was accompanied by his deputy, Charlotte Rocard, the BER–Europe, technically responsible for the oversight of Operation Falcon. De Payns smiled at Rocard but inside he was bristling. Charlotte Rocard, apart from having sartorial tastes almost as expensive as her boss’s, was an aggressive teacher’s pet who had no field experience in her CV. She was known for showing little interest in Y Division operations, until Sturt was in the room and then she became an expert.