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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

‘Haha. Right, good. Give my love to, eh . . . well, whoever. I’ll be in touch.’

Bannerman hung up and leaned back in his seat. He would rather have gone to Switzerland himself, but there was no time. And Lewis was good. But he was a vicious bastard. Somewhere behind all that ersatz affability he hid a sack of poison.

The sharp ring of the phone startled him. He lifted the receiver. ‘Bannerman.’

‘Neil, it’s Sally. I’ve been trying to reach you for days. God, I’ve been so worried. You know about Tania?’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Where have you been? I thought maybe you’d gone back to Scotland. They phoned me the morning after she went missing. I tried to get you at the Rue de Commerce, but there was no reply. You haven’t heard anything, have you?’

‘No.’ There was a silence on the line that seemed longer than it was.

Then Sally said, ‘Can we meet?’

Bannerman wiped the perspiration from his forehead. ‘I’m tired, Sally. Maybe tomorrow.’ There was another silence and he heard the phone go dead. He hung up and leaned forward on his elbows, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. The typing stopped and he looked up to find Mademoiselle Ricain watching him. He stared back, almost without seeing her. Suddenly he said, ‘Would you do me a favour, Mademoiselle?’

‘Well, yes,’ she said hesitantly.

‘It’s all right, I just want you to phone Richard Platt at Belgique Soir and tell him I’ll be in touch tomorrow. I’m going home now. When you’ve done you might as well knock off too.’ She nodded, expecting Bannerman to go. But he sat on, still looking at her. She grew more self-conscious and dithered before reaching for the phone. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said at length. ‘About Palin. I embarrassed you.’

‘Oh . . .’ she said, not sure about how to respond. ‘He . . . he probably deserved it. He wasn’t a very nice man.’

‘No.’ Bannerman stood up and crossed to her desk. ‘What are you typing?’

She blushed. ‘Nothing. That is . . . nothing important.’ Bannerman leaned over and pulled the sheet of paper from the typewriter. The typing was neat and accurate. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. About thirty lines of it. Bannerman smiled and laid it on her desk.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The muffled ring of the telephone reached Tania on the landing. It seeped through her drowsiness like light on a foggy night. She was only vaguely aware of it, although it was not until it stopped that she awoke fully to the gnawing ache in her belly and the cold that gripped her like a vice in the dark.

Another night. Was it the second or the third? She was losing track of time.