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groaned, “My baby.” The loss added to his pain.
    â€œI’m sorry, but I am required to take your DNA, Mr. Terrade. I have to make sure that you are the father.”
    The man shot him a look. Nico knew he was being cruel.
    â€œIt’s a routine test,” Nico added apologetically. “I will ask a nurse to come by. In the meantime, would you like a coffee?”
    Nico called a colleague to escort Terrade and his sister to another office to handle the rest. All they needed was a hair, a few skin cells or a drop of blood, sperm or saliva. The sample would be sealed and taken to the next high-speed train to Nantes. Nico disagreed with his superiors about DNA testing and trusted the Nantes University Hospital more than the Paris police forensics lab. He would have the results in less than twenty-four hours.
    He didn’t stay alone for long. A section chief entered without any ceremony.
    â€œWant to know the latest?” the strapping man said. “The Élysée just called. The president’s chief of staff wants an update on the investigation of Madame de Vallois’ murder.”
    The de Vallois family was well known in France. Delphine de Vallois, once a friend of the president, had been murdered two years earlier in her seedy eighth-arrondissement apartment. She had squandered her fortune and no longer kept respectable company. They had never caught the murderer, even if L a Crim’ did have some clues as to who it was. They presumed it was a spurned lover. The number of bruises on the victim’s body suggested an intense struggle. But they never had enough evidence to make an arrest.
    â€œYou know what I think of that case?” Nico said. “Send them the same report we did last time. They keep hounding us about this. We don’t take orders from the Élysée.”
    The case was not that interesting, and the brigade would end up catching the culprit. It was one of the division’s great advantages: They had time to work their cases. Some investigations took months, even years. Marie-Hélène Jory’s case was different. They had to act quickly if they wanted to solve it.
    â€œYou said it, boss. They are starting to get on my nerves,” the subordinate said. “So, it looks like there’s no meeting this morning?”
    Every morning around nine thirty, the section heads got together in Nico’s office for a quick review of ongoing cases. Although they allowed themselves a cup of coffee, they never sat down for this meeting.
    â€œNo, not today. The Jory case has priority.”
    â€œLucky you. I wish I were in on it.”
    Nico smiled. His teams loved their work. They all volunteered whenever an investigation showed signs of being particularly difficult. They wanted to participate and show what they were made of. It took a special kind of person, a meticulous intellectual, to be part of La Crim’ . They were all experienced officers he had chosen personally for their respective skills.
    The head of counter-terrorism arrived, and a morning meeting wound up taking place anyway. The international situation required him to work closely with all those involved.
    â€œHere is the file on Chechen movements in France that you wanted,” the deputy chief said. “Religion is not the only factor. Tribal relations play an important role in their organization. We’re keeping a constant watch on their leader. I can even tell you when he takes a piss.”
    â€œGood. We need to tighten the net. We can’t let down our guard. It could be dangerous.”
    â€œMaximum pressure. The men are on it.”
    â€œPerfect. That’s exactly what the interior minister will want to know. And what about Iraq?” Nico asked routinely.
    Well before the media broadcast the threat, and the world’s leaders took a stand for or firmly against the war, his team had been placing daily bets, not on its probability but on the date that it