Bannerman sat back and dropped the drawing on the desk. ‘Maybe not. But it’s clear there was a third man.’

‘Then why didn’t he take the money in the suitcase?’

‘Perhaps he didn’t know it was there.’

‘Then what was his motive?’

Bannerman had no answer. But already he knew he was being drawn inextricably into this whole affair whether he wanted to or not. He wondered why du Maurier had told him as much as he had. But the policeman broke into his thoughts almost as though he had read them.

‘This is not just a straightforward case of suspicious death, Monsieur Bannerman. It involves the murder of a British government minister. A diplomatic minefield at any time. But with an election in your own country less than three weeks away, and Monsieur Gryffe a high-profile poster boy for his party . . . I imagine there could well be political pressures brought to bear. A tragic double homicide, each man responsible for killing the other, the reason for which will probably never be known. Case closed.’

He hesitated for a second.

‘Unfortunately, Monsieur Bannerman, I have no doubt that they were murdered. And not by each other. Though by whom or for what reason, I do not pretend to know. But I don’t want this taken out of my hands.’ Bannerman watched him carefully. ‘Political expediency, Monsieur Bannerman, can be as corrupt as murder itself. I have been a policeman all my life. Politics doesn’t interest me. I believe only in the law. And justice.’

Bannerman said, ‘So the men in suits are going to close down your investigation?’

‘I imagine they are sitting in smoke-filled rooms right now wondering exactly how to do it.’

‘Then how can you stop them?’

‘By moving before they do.’

Bannerman saw determination in the set of his jaw.

‘I have called a press conference to be held downstairs at . . .’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Seven-thirty. In just five minutes’ time. I shall tell your colleagues most of what I have told you, though not everything. I have had the child’s drawing photocopied and the copies will be distributed to the media. I imagine there will be quite a feeding frenzy.’

Bannerman raised an eyebrow. ‘What about the men in suits?’

Du Maurier smiled. ‘Politicians,’ he said. ‘They’re too fucking slow.’ He stubbed out his cigarette and got to his feet. ‘We’d better go downstairs. Your colleagues await me.’

III