‘At his house. Shot in the chest.’ She didn’t mention Isaac, not even to him.

He thought quietly about that. ‘And Piquet?’ he asked eventually. ‘You spoke to him and lived to tell the tale?’

‘Piquet informed me that he is a CIA agent. He doesn’t work for masters in Moscow, as you claimed. He works for Washington. He insists that you are the one in the pay of the Soviet MGB Intelligence agency.’

‘Did he now?’

‘Why don’t you deny it?’

He uttered a short impatient sigh. ‘Do I need to, Eloïse? With you of all people.’

‘Tell me the truth, André. Just tell me the bloody truth.’ My voice was rising. ‘For once, be honest with me.’

He sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched out one leg as if it ached. ‘Very well,’ he said, so calm I wanted to shake him. ‘Ask me something.’

‘Are you spying for the Russians?’

‘No.’

‘Piquet claims you are.’

He leaned forward, hands on his knees. ‘Who are you going to believe? A murdering lying bastard who would slice your tongue out as soon as swill wine with you?’ He paused. We both knew what was coming next. ‘Or me? Your brother.’

I stepped forward, closer to him, and peeled my tongue from the back of my teeth.

‘Are you a double agent? Working for the CIA but pretending to have turned to the MGB?’

‘No. I am a CIA agent, pure and simple.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘Why would Piquet tell me he works for the CIA if he doesn’t?’

‘You’re going to have to ask him that.’

‘André, why should I believe you?’

‘Why should you disbelieve me?’

‘Because nothing makes sense anymore.’

He laughed and it smacked me right between the eyes because it was his old laugh, his Paris laugh that I had missed so much.

‘Welcome to the world of spies, Eloïse.’

‘I want to trust you but . . . I don’t know who to believe . . . or who to trust anymore.’

He tried to stand but I pushed him back down and leaned over him, my hands on his shoulders. ‘No more games, André, no more lies. Tell me the truth and then I will trust you. Not before.’

His eyes narrowed to a thin amber gleam. ‘I think you give your trust too easily. Too cheaply.’

I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘In exchange for a kiss. From your friend in the car outside.’

I didn’t move. But the rage was back and I didn’t trust myself. ‘Léon has nothing to do with this.’