BooksBarbecue
Back The Man With No Face
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

Bannerman came in at the back of the room and moved around to a bar on the right-hand side where he ordered a beer. A number of reporters were seated on stools drinking beer or coffee, chatting quietly or reading papers – Le Monde, the Guardian, La Belgique Soir, Die Welt, La Stampa, The Times. Very few of the newsmen seated round the benches seemed to be paying much attention. There was an oddly casual atmosphere. Of informality, or perhaps indifference. Two secretaries moved constantly between the rows delivering press releases in various languages. Bannerman leaned against the bar, sipping his beer. He had picked out the thin figure of Slater with his distinctive red beard. He had only once met the man, several years before when he worked on the Evening Times. That was before Slater had been sent out to Brussels as the Post’s EEC correspondent. He had aged considerably, Bannerman thought, his face pale and drawn. The long thin nose more pinched than he remembered.

The briefing broke up, and as the journalists gathered into their various nationalities, Slater caught sight of Bannerman and made his way to the bar. He was unsmiling and seemed distracted. ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘You can buy me a beer.’ He risked a smile. ‘The bar’s subsidized.’

Bannerman leaned across the counter. ‘Deux bières,’ he said and pushed a fifty-franc note at the barman. He turned back to Slater. ‘Much doing?’ Green eyes in a pale freckled face avoided his.

‘Not this week,’ Slater said. ‘The only real topic of conversation is the British election. The Germans and French are worried shitless that the government’s going to lose. If the opposition get in the opinion here is that the European Union will take another backward step – not that it takes many forward.’

Bannerman sensed a hostility in Slater that made him uncomfortable in the man’s presence. He thought, and I’ve got to live with you for the next month. Slater lifted his beer. ‘Cheers.’

They were joined by two reporters that Bannerman had seen drifting slowly towards them. One had a tanned, creased face, about sixty, dressed in a neat dark suit. The other was younger, less formal, a shock of fair hair falling over bland cherubic features. He patted Slater on the back. ‘Waste of time today, Tim. Get anything to interest you?’