Footsteps on cobbles echoed in the silence, coming from the shadowed lee of the courthouse where the snow had not fallen. Bannerman turned to see the tall, slightly stooped figure of du Maurier step from the shadows and into the feeble light of the streetlamps. He seemed older, his coat hanging loose on his lean frame. A cigarette glowed at one corner of his mouth and his breath billowed around his head like smoke in the cold. His hat, tilted forward, threw a shadow over the top half of his face. Hands pushed into his pockets, he walked slowly to the wall, brushed away the crusting of snow and leaned on it to stare out across the city. Bannerman smelled drink on his breath.

Without looking at him du Maurier said, ‘Five years ago I was up for promotion. Principal Commissaire. One of my contemporaries, a Fleming, got the job.’ He paused. ‘You see, Monsieur, this great country of ours is really an uneasy alliance of two very different cultures. Two countries, you might say. The Flemings in the north and the Walloons in the south. The language of the north is Flemish and in the south it is French. But our differences go much deeper than language. They are cultural, historical. Brussels may have been crowned the new political capital of Europe. A great cosmopolitan city.’ He snorted his derision. ‘But it is pure veneer, Monsieur Bannerman. All the old hatreds, all the old prejudices fester still beneath the surface. They say that Belgium is bilingual. It is not true. Outside of Brussels, where we all pretend, we are a nation of two one-language communities. The language and culture of north and south prevail over the nation. It is expected. In the schoolroom, in the boardroom, the officers’ mess, the law courts, the tax office, the Church.’ He lit a fresh cigarette from his old one and seemed lost in thought. Bannerman shuffled impatiently, but said nothing.

‘It was my misfortune to reach the point of promotion at a time when the balance of power was shifting. For years French-speakers held sway. It was they who had power and influence in government and all its institutions. Then a conscious political decision was taken to reverse the tide, to bring about what they called balance. It was the turn of the Flemings.’ His mouth tightened. ‘Ironically I had always been opposed to discrimination against the Flemings. I had always believed that a man should be judged on his abilities. But you see, I lost my chance because I spoke French at a time when the political climate was against me. Not because I didn’t merit the job.’ He turned to Bannerman. ‘Why should I feel any allegiance to such a system?’

Bannerman wondered how many absinthes the policeman had consumed. He said, ‘You didn’t have me meet you here in the middle of the night to complain about political discrimination, I hope.’