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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

It was now nearly six. Bannerman looked again at the note Mademoiselle Ricain had left for him, and picked up the phone. He dialled and leaned forward on his elbows listening to it ring. This would be a direct line to du Maurier’s office. He was about to give up when the receiver was lifted from its cradle.

‘Du Maurier.’

‘Bannerman. You were looking for me.’

‘Oui.’

‘I was at the funeral.’

‘Ah yes.’ He sounded tired. ‘Can you meet me?’

‘When?’

‘Now.’

‘No, I’m going to see the child.’

‘Later then.’

‘Okay. At the Café Auguste?’

‘No. In the Place Poelaert. At the far end of the Rue des Quatre Bras. At the far side of the Palais de Justice. We should not be seen together.’

‘Can you tell me what it’s about?’

‘No. When can you be there?’

Bannerman thought for a moment. ‘Eleven?’

He heard du Maurier sigh. ‘All right. Eleven.’ The line went dead and Bannerman hung up. He swung round in his chair and saw the invitation to the Minister’s dinner lying crumpled in the bin. He lifted it out, smoothed it on the desk and stuffed it in his pocket.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The hospital was set back from the road and screened by trees and thick evergreen shrubbery behind a high stone wall. The poorly lit road that ran around the side of the hill overlooking this outlying suburb was narrow and treacherous in the snow. A steep drop on its left side fell away to a disused railway line. Set in two acres of its own grounds, the hospital was housed in one of several large stone villas that perched precariously on the slope of the hill. This had once, perhaps, been an exclusive part of town, a retreat for the rich. Now the large ornately carved stone gateposts were blackened and chipped. Rusted wrought-iron gates opened on to driveways where weeds poked through the light covering of snow beneath the trees.

From the road, most of the houses simmered in darkness. They might have been derelict. The only building that showed signs of life was the hospital itself, light from its windows divided into fragments by the naked branches of winter trees. The whole street huddled in the shadow of the hill, an air of hushed decay falling with the snow. They came upon it unexpectedly as Bannerman’s car whined up the steep curve of the road from the housing estate below, tyres slipping in the snow. It was a corner of the city forgotten by time.

The polished brass plaque on the gate seemed quite incongruous. HÔPITAL DES ENFANTS. Very discreet. A residential psychiatric clinic for children. Bannerman swung the Volkswagen into the driveway and they wound up through the trees to where the drive broadened into a parking area in front of the house. From here there was a stunning view over the city, which lay swathed in snow below them.