Mademoiselle Ricain looked up from her keyboard and smiled when Bannerman came in. Bannerman wondered what it was she always seemed to be typing. Palin was slumped at his desk, still in his coat, going through his shorthand notes. He had not been at the press conference in the Rue des Quatre Bras and must only just have returned from the midday press briefing at the Salle de Presse. Palin glanced at him, then buried his head again in his notes. Bannerman sat down and threw his notebook on the desk.

‘Your editor telephoned,’ Mademoiselle Ricain said. ‘His flight’s been delayed and he said for you not to expect him before one.’

Bannerman looked at his watch. It was a little after twelve-thirty. ‘Fine. Thanks.’ He paused. ‘Listen, could you pop down to the bakery on the corner and get me a sandwich? Seems like I’m not going to get lunch.’

‘Of course.’ She smiled and stood up, apparently happy to run an errand for him. ‘What filling would you like?’

Bannerman shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter. Whatever they’ve got.’ He drew out a note. ‘Thanks.’

She took it from him, smiled again, then lifted her bag and coat and was gone, leaving a swirl of perfume in her wake. He had not been aware of the perfume yesterday, but it was making its presence felt today. He frowned.

He sat for a full minute after she had gone and then glanced at Palin. ‘You and I need to talk.’

‘Do we?’ Palin pushed himself back in his seat and looked at Bannerman coldly. In eyes clouded by alcohol there was a hint of apprehension which he was doing his best to disguise. ‘What about?’ He stuck a match in the corner of his mouth and began chewing on it.

Bannerman waited, allowing Palin’s apprehension to take root and push out shoots. ‘About the phone call you made to René Jansen yesterday.’ Palin paled visibly and Bannerman knew he’d guessed right. It could easily have been Lapointe. Fifty–fifty. He’d struck lucky.

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

Bannerman retained a studied calm. ‘I don’t know if it’s possible to see that you never work in newspapers again, Palin, but I’ll make damn sure your editor is in full possession of the facts. I can only imagine what his reaction will be. As for the union, well, they’re not quite as predictable, but I would think there’s a good chance you’ll be expelled. And then there’s the Judicial Police. I wouldn’t swear to it, but it’s quite possible that you’ve actually broken the law.’

A deathly pallor washed across Palin’s face. He was silent for a very long time. Then, ‘You can’t prove anything.’