Franck stood back up again but his head started to spin; blood was beating in his temples and he didn’t know if it was from heat or anger. He was soaked in sweat and could feel acid rising in his throat. Ever since he’d started eating meat again, he’d been getting heartburn and a slightly acidic aftertaste from digesting the flesh of another animal; flesh that was the same as his own. Eating meat was like eating the body of an enemy or prey. Actually, he would have liked to devour those two. He really hated them.

The dog didn’t even pause when he got to the second gully and headed straight for the final ascent. Good Lord – he thought about what heartburn must be like for dogs, or even more for wild animals, the big carnivores that only ate raw meat, and lions that didn’t eat any vegetables. God, their stomachs must burn with acid, enzymes and frenzied protein. Their minds must be ablaze with aggression and violence, because now he was sure of it: eating meat made you greedy and grasping, and it was that greed that helped you win, made you want to fight, conquer the world and destroy your opponent. In wartime men are encouraged to destroy the enemy, or kill them at least, kill all of them … He wanted to declare war on the guys walking in front of him and destroy them – yes, destroy them. He thought to himself, ‘They’re here because they think I’m going to sign; sheer greed has driven them all this way. They’ve travelled seven hours and are willing to walk in forty-degree heat because they think they can manipulate me into signing their contract.’ But now, he was the one manipulating them – or, rather, the dog was. They were walking without the slightest idea of what was in store for them.