‘No thank you.’

‘As you like.’ Her eyes flickered briefly beyond him and then returned with that same empty stare. ‘You see, if my son had been involved in the things of which you accuse him, I would have known. There is nothing I do not know about him. He is a good boy. He will do nothing without his mother’s approval. He has never married. For you see, it is me he needs. Me he depends on. My only fear is what will become of him when I have gone.’ She smiled. ‘I’m afraid he will fall prey to vultures like you.’

‘So you are the power behind the Jansen empire?’ Bannerman was sceptical.

Now she chuckled. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It is the way my husband wanted it. He knew that René would never be the man he was. Of course, René liked to play the part, to pretend. But then, he knows that he must always answer to Mama, as when he was a child. He doesn’t love me, I think. But he fears me. It was I who sent him away.’ She paused. ‘I’d like you to leave too now, please.’

Bannerman shook his head in disbelief. He found that he was still trembling. ‘Well, I don’t really care what you’d like me to do,’ he said. ‘There’s a little girl lying in an operating room in a hospital not very far from here that I care about a great deal more.’ He paused. ‘So you can start by telling me all about Michel Lapointe.’

‘Ah, Michel,’ she said, quite unruffled. ‘He is a genius, Mr Bannerman, but a man of little breeding. My husband trusted him implicitly.’ She took a tiny sip of her wine. ‘He is a man I have never liked. I am afraid I have used him unscrupulously. He has remained loyal only because the rewards are high. And I fear that he does not hold me in as high regard as he held my husband. But perhaps he is just a little afraid of me, as René is. It is unfortunate that he must be sacrificed. A sop to public opinion, you understand. He really did overstep the mark by initiating this distasteful arms business. On his own initiative, it must be said. I cannot, you understand, allow my son to fall victim to any scandal.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Who? Monsieur Lapointe?’

‘Yes.’

‘At his office, I imagine. He likes to work on Sundays.’

Bannerman moved towards the door. As he opened it the old woman said, ‘Who is the child you spoke of?’

‘Tim Slater’s daughter. She was shot this morning at the airport. But then, you’ll know all about that.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I know nothing at all about a child. I am sorry.’

‘Of course you are.’