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Chapters (45)
  1. The Man With No Face
  2. Also by
  3. Title
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Contents
  8. INTRODUCTION
  9. CHAPTER ONE
  10. CHAPTER TWO
  11. CHAPTER THREE
  12. CHAPTER FOUR
  13. CHAPTER FIVE
  14. CHAPTER SIX
  15. CHAPTER SEVEN
  16. CHAPTER EIGHT
  17. CHAPTER NINE
  18. CHAPTER TEN
  19. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  20. CHAPTER TWELVE
  21. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  23. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  25. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  26. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  27. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Platt’s face was a mixture of misery and frustration. ‘Twelve.’ He glanced again at his watch. It was ten to.

‘I’ll make it brief, then,’ Bannerman said. But he was in no hurry. He took another mouthful of beer. ‘You work in the dark until I start putting things together. I will need certain information on certain individuals. The facilities you have here and your knowledge of Brussels could save me a great deal of time. If and when the story stands up I’ll consider sharing it with you – if you have contributed anything of value.’

Platt glared at him angrily. ‘What kind of deal is that?’

‘The only one I’m prepared to make.’

‘You’ve got a bloody nerve, Bannerman. Suppose I provide you with all this information.’ He glanced towards the clock behind the bar. ‘What’s to stop you from cutting me out? I’m supposed to take you on trust, is that it?’

Bannerman smiled. ‘I don’t know anyone else I would rather put my trust in.’

Platt gulped down the remainder of his beer then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His hat seemed to have slipped even further back on his head. ‘No deal.’

Bannerman stood up. ‘Suit yourself.’

‘No, hold on! Wait a minute!’ Platt was lost in an agony of indecision, and the imminent passing of his midday deadline. ‘Sit down, for Christ’s sake.’

Bannerman sat down.

‘All right. Okay. You’re a real bastard, Bannerman, you know that?’ He hesitated and stole yet another glance at the clock. It was now two minutes to twelve.

Bannerman said, ‘You’re going to hold up your second edition.’

‘Get on with it!’

‘All right. I want to know all about a man called René Jansen. Anything and everything you can get. Personal life, business interests. Also a man called Michel Lapointe. Give me a call first thing tomorrow at the IPC building.’

Platt was confused, curious, but also conscious of the time. And anticipating the fury of his news editor. He stood up, aiming his most contemptuous look in Bannerman’s direction. ‘Bastard!’ he said again, and hurried off to find a telephone. Bannerman took his time finishing his beer, then settled up and made his way to the door.

When he stepped out into the boulevard the sun was no longer shining. Dark clouds had rolled in from the east, heavy with the threat of more snow.

III