‘It is such a dangerous job and you have to give up so much for it. Maybe it’s a good thing the CIA turned me down. Why, André? Tell me why you do it.’

He sat up straight, as if I had lit a touchpaper.

‘It is an incredibly complicated business, Eloïse,’ he said in a solemn voice, ‘that is becoming more difficult all the time. Intelligence work means you operate without recognition. Your failures are known, your successes are not.’

‘But you live for your work. You love it, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he answered, smiling reluctantly. ‘I do.’

I smiled at him fondly. ‘Tell me why.’

‘I’m not sure I can explain it. All I can say is that it is about finding the truth. Though we deal every day in lies. But the sense of purpose . . . the sense of accomplishment . . . the incredible sense of pride and privilege that comes from serving my country. This far outweighs anything else. I am a lucky man.’

‘Who is it who wants to kill me?’ I asked flatly.

‘I don’t know.’

I held my tongue. I rose to my feet and walked to the window from where I could see the gardian Louis in the yard, his face in his hands. Léon Roussel’s arm lay across his shoulder, and the dog Demeter was standing nearby. The tension on the farm was raising everyone’s hackles. In the far distant sky I spotted a bomber cruising past. I waited for André to speak.

‘A Soviet Intelligence operative,’ he said at last. He retreated into his professional shell once more, cool and controlled.

‘Why would he want to force me back to Paris?’

‘Because you are going round asking questions. Stirring up things that people don’t want stirred up.’

‘Maybe Mayor Durand is right. It’s just a bunch of Communist hotheads. Activists who are part of the movement of industrial unrest that is sweeping through the country. They are vehemently opposed to the Americans marching their boots into France again and bringing their nuclear bombs with them. So not personal to me. They just turn on anyone who assists the USAF forces.’ I let my breath out slowly. ‘It’s possible.’

He threw his cigarette stub in the ashtray at his bedside. ‘For God’s sake, will they never see that America is the only one who can save us? They have the bombs, the equipment and the desire to stand firm against the Soviet threat. France will end up as a Soviet puppet state like East Germany if we blink for even a moment.’

I stood with my back to the window. ‘I don’t intend to blink, André.’

‘Keep your eyes open and your door bolted.’

‘Give me names. Who is Piquet? The bruiser at the hospital.’