Mawnie Schwartz drove to the Napoleon V Chateau for another meeting with Bleulance, this time at the estate’s autumn property, known as Quartz House. The grey, forbidding building blended into the sunless, drizzly months of winter. Hidden at the top of the eight thousand acre manor, it was covered in a quartz skin. Schwartz could see the changing colours of the stone as he drove closer along a path under overhanging trees, weighed down by recent rain and giving the impression of a tunnel. He stopped his Jaguar at the entrance. Now that he was up close he marvelled at the different colours, which changed with every step he took towards the entrance: purple amethyst, rose quartz, red carnelian, then milky and smoky quartz. Ten metres from the front door, red-brown tiger’s eye, orange citrine and mint green prasiolite predominated in and around the door.

He was so enchanted with this bland box-like structure, with its transforming hues, that he did not see Bleulance coming down the steps to greet him.

Bleulance gave him a perfunctory nod and grimace rather than a smile. There was no handshake.

‘Sorry, Baron, sir …’ Schwartz began but was cut off by his paymaster, who pointed to a sculpture in the garden just beyond some trees.

‘Come, Schwartz, I want you to be the first to admire my new creation.’

Bleulance strode ahead of him and they had a clear view of the new acquisition. Schwartz stopped when he caught sight of it.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Skeletons of what?’

‘The four horsemen of the apocalypse, of course,’ Bleulance said, with disdain.

‘Oh, yeah, I see now,’ Schwartz said. ‘Chilling.’

‘Chilling? That’s a Thomas le Hodgarcon. It’s genius!’

‘I … I meant in this setting,’ Schwartz said, trying to cover his faux pas. ‘It must have cost a fancy franc.’ He put on dark glasses to hide his left eye, which was flapping furiously.

‘A very attractive twenty million euros,’ Bleulance corrected.

‘Wow!’

They strolled closer.

‘What were you wanting to tell me?’ Bleulance asked.

‘Um, we’ve discovered Al Haut has a girlfriend.’

‘Lucky him. But he has had quite a few, hasn’t he?’

‘He’s serious about this one.’

‘Australian?’

‘No, Russian, we believe. He’s in love.’

‘This is not the one everyone says is a tall Marilyn Monroe?’

‘No, another one.’

‘You were thinking about dealing with her?’

‘We are. She’s living in London. Haut won’t visit Russia.’

‘Because of his deal with the CIA?’

Schwartz nodded. Bleulance had not taken his eyes off the sculpture as they spoke.

‘Exquisite, don’t you think? The way le Hodgarcon has blended the entire quartz concept in the structure? Each figure is a different, understated quartz colour. If you move, it will change its overall appearance.’

‘Marvellous!’ Schwartz said, his South African accent evident.

Bleulance lowered his eyes for a split second. ‘So you think you should deal with this new woman?’