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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

A dog barked somewhere in the courtyards behind the apartment block and crashed into his thoughts. He dropped on to his back and stared up at the ceiling, and realized for the first time that he too was cold.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

The blinds were drawn and the only light came from a desk lamp bent over on a goose neck, throwing a bright pool of light on to the scribbled blotter. Everything on the desk was laid out neatly. A large glass ashtray, empty and clean, a long brass letter opener, a wire tray tidily piled with dog-eared reports, a marble pen holder, a phone, two folders and a dish of paper clips. On the wall behind it, a large map of Brussels and a calendar pinned to a walk-in cupboard door. The high-backed leather armchair was set at an angle. A light came on in the next room and spilled more light into the study through open French windows and the glass in a wooden framework that partitioned the two rooms. Beyond, a further set of French windows opened out on to the back gardens. But they were shut against the rain and the dark.

Gryffe came through to his study, an expensive camel coat hanging on his substantial frame. The two ends of a white silk scarf dropped to his waist. He was a large, heavy-set man, not fat, but powerfully built. He had a face that would be attractive to women. Smooth tanned skin below a head of dark, thick-growing hair, neatly cut and swept back. But now he was frowning and it did not suit him. The fine arches of his eyebrows were puckered in towards the bridge of his nose and his upper lip was curled in an expression that might have been distaste. He was agitated and made straight for his desk. But then he stopped, almost as though he had forgotten what it was he had come for. Outside the rain came down, striking and running down the glass behind the blinds. Gryffe stooped hesitantly over the desk, pulling open the left-hand drawer. He seemed satisfied with what he saw and pushed it shut again. He stretched across and took a bunch of keys out of the drawer on the other side, slipped them into his pocket, switched out the desk lamp and went back to the other room. There he switched off the ceiling light and went out into the hall. The front door slammed shut, leaving the place in darkness, the quiet broken only by the sound of falling rain, the scent of his aftershave lingering in the cold, still air.