‘Thankfully, no.’

‘What about violence? Seen any deaths in your career?’

‘As an air force pilot, there were many. Not so many in my intelligence career.’

She raised an eyebrow.

‘There was Sicily, two nights ago, I guess,’ said de Payns. He suppressed a smile. One of the things they asked him when he was being inducted to the Y Division at Cercottes was whether he could kill kittens. And then they took him into the room where the kittens were! Asking him now about violence seemed a little redundant.

‘Palermo, wasn’t it?’

He gave her a look.

‘Palermo’s in my briefing,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

‘A couple of thugs were shadowing a person I befriended in Palermo. When I tried to leave a bar, one of the thugs followed me and was reaching for his pistol.’

‘You saw this?’

‘I saw him going for the small of his back, saw the pistol in the reflection of a glass door.’

‘What happened?’

‘I turned to confront him and he had a hole in his neck.’

They looked at each other for two seconds.

‘A hole?’ she asked, breaking her gaze and writing. ‘You mean, like …’

‘A hole with blood coming out of it. Big enough for a pen or a chopstick.’

Dr Marlene nodded. ‘So, was there someone close by who had a pen or a chopstick?’

‘There was a man.’

‘A man?’

‘Yes,’ said de Payns, ‘from the bar.’

‘Did you know the man?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you tell me his name?’

‘No,’ said de Payns.

‘You can’t, or you won’t?’ she asked.

‘Both. I can’t tell you his name.’

‘Was it Guillaume?’

‘Why ask me if you already have a name?’

She placed her pen on the compendium and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I’m not here to play games, Alec. I’m here to assess you.’

‘How am I doing?’

‘Well, you tell me.’

‘A thug got a hole in his neck before he could shoot me,’ said de Payns. ‘On balance I’d say I’m happy, when you consider the alternative.’

‘What about this contact of yours, this target?’

‘Commodore,’ said de Payns.

‘Yes, him. How did he fare in this incident?’

De Payns shrugged. ‘It was dark and I assumed he was in a car.’

‘And?’

‘And there was a show of blood and viscera on the inside of the rear window.’

‘Leading you to believe …’

‘That Commodore had been shot. Possibly in the head.’

Dr Marlene sat back. ‘Let’s assume Commodore is dead, that you saw him being killed. How do you feel about that? I mean, you developed a friendship with him, non?’

‘He was going through a nasty divorce. He needed money, kept telling me how men in Italy are really screwed in a divorce.’

‘How did you respond to that?’