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the harbor road rose above the railings then spread out across the sea. De Palma stopped in front of the Grand Bleu bar, looked inside and signaled to the waiter to serve him a beer on the terrace outside.
    He sat down facing the sea, turning his back on the roar of thetraffic. A migraine was starting up. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if to open the jaws of a vice.
    â€œGood evening, M. de Palma.”
    He opened his eyes. A violent rush of adrenalin pinned him to his chair. The creature he had seen near the war memorial was standing in front of him. It was Isabelle Mercier, with her almond eyes.
    For a few seconds, de Palma wondered if he wasn’t suffering from one of his now familiar hallucinations. His hands shook slightly. He hid them beneath the table.
    â€œForgive me for introducing myself in such an abrupt manner … My name is Ingrid Steinert.”
    After his appointment with Chandeler, he had supposed that this business of the German billionaire was well and truly over. But he took Ingrid Steinert’s proffered hand, and its soft touch made him feel ill at ease.
    â€œGood evening, Mme. Steinert … please, do sit down. Can I offer you a drink?”
    She was wearing a huge diamond ring on her middle finger. The sort of luxurious gem that can be seen either in jewelers’ windows on place Vendôme in Paris, or among the hauls from famous burglaries.
    â€œMmm …” she said, pursing her lips. “I’d really like a pastis…”
    Mme. Steinert trained her eyes on the Baron. Her resemblance to Isabelle Mercier was striking. She had large eyes of a pure blue that fondled whatever they looked at. Big blue eyes that shifted to turquoise when her mood suddenly changed.
    She produced from her bag a cigarette case of leather and gold and opened it delicately.
    â€œCigarette?”
    â€œNo thanks, I’ve quit.”
    He saw in her eyes that he was failing to conceal his discomfort. He cleared his throat, and his curiosity was drawn by the wedding ring on Ingrid Steinert’s finger, which matched her diamond and her earrings. An absolute fortune.
    â€œWhat can I do for you, Madame Steinert?”
    Her eyes clouded over, and she ran the tips of her elegant fingers through her hair. De Palma realized that he had upset her, and immediately felt sorry about his brusqueness. He felt awkward, and she noticed.
    â€œMy lawyer met you and he told me that you refused to help me. So today I’ve come to see you myself.”
    â€œYou haven’t wasted time! You’re not used to people refusing you, is that it?”
    â€œYou’re quite right. But that’s not why I’m here.”
    â€œHow did you find me?”
    â€œIt wasn’t hard,” she said, and glanced at a man who stood across the avenue.
    De Palma spotted the bodyguard, then another: two heavies, probably Germans, who were trying to blend in among the kids of Malmousque who were kicking a ball about.
    â€œAnd you never go out without your two bruisers?”
    â€œNot since my husband died. There are three of them, actually. It’s the price I have to pay to feel safe.”
    De Palma swallowed a mouthful of beer, then slammed his glass down so hard that its contents shot over the rim and splashed her cigarette case.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mme. Steinert, but I’m going to have to repeat what I told your lawyer. I can’t and won’t do anything to help you.”
    She did not reply, but merely raised her glass of pastis to her lips, without taking her eyes off the Baron. A yacht was moving almost imperceptibly toward the old port, its main jib swollen by the dying wind. For the first time in months, de Palma felt a stab of fear. He observed Ingrid Steinert and realized that something was happening, a game that he couldn’t control.
    â€œDoes it surprise you,” she said mockingly, “that a woman should make contact directly?”
    â€œIt does, when