The temperature had dropped overnight and the sky was heavy with the threat of snow from dark clouds that scraped the skyline. The cold, quiet streets were empty in the first light of this Sunday morning, milk bottles standing on doorsteps, Sunday newspapers stuck in letter boxes. The occasional taxi cruised past the grey terraces where the shutters were still closed, curtains still drawn. Brussels was not yet awake. In an hour the first sombre citizens would leave their homes and make their way darkly to early Mass among the flickering candles in ancient churches and the raised incantations of pious voices. A sheet of yesterday’s newspaper fluttered across the Square Ambiorix and in the children’s swing park the swings swayed gently back and forth, a rusted link squeaking in the cold air.

Slater turned his car into the square from the Chaussée Martel, his daughter seated quietly in the back staring sullenly from the window. Tania knew her father was nervous, agitated, as he had been so often recently. But this morning she felt more than that. She sensed his fear with a growing trepidation. The pressure of her own unease was building inside her and she became aware that her hands were gripping the edge of the seat so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Slater caught sight of her face in the rearview mirror and thought, thank God she’s at peace. He could not see her hands. Again he cursed Sally. Of all the mornings for her to call off. The last thing he had wanted was to take Tania with him on this of all visits. Nothing had worked out according to plan. The arrival of Bannerman, Sally’s call-off. He had not been able to face breakfast this morning, and now he felt slightly sick. His heart was hammering away at his ribs and his palms were damp with perspiration.

He wiped them one after the other on his trouser legs and swung the car into the Rue de Pavie. There were cars parked below the Residence Ambiorix, but down the length of the street there was only one other vehicle. It was parked outside Gryffe’s block. Slater pulled up in front of it and switched off the engine. He half-turned towards Tania. ‘You’ll have to stay in the car, little one.’ It was foolish to have hoped that this was something she might accept, and he watched as the scream rose in her chest. Both of her hands clutched at the back of his collar as her voice filled the car. He twisted himself in the seat and took her arms to hold them firmly. ‘You must,’ he said, imploring her. ‘I can’t take you in. Please don’t start.’