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president. “You have already briefed him?”
    Heilburg nodded.
    The old man looked down the table to the fellow. “Do you have a proposed course of action?”
    Armand looked up and Robert noticed that his previously soft blue-grey eyes had hardened to the colour of steel. “Yes, Monsieur le President. I have access to a young woman who I can absolutely trust. I propose that she and I should act as a recently married couple on a touring holiday. We will book in at the hotel in Quillan where the archaeologists are staying. We will appear to be fascinated by the activities of Blontard’s group. We may even volunteer to join them as amateur assistants. I believe that archaeologists never have enough assistants. We will report to the grand treasurer on our progress and receive his instructions on what action is necessary.”
    The president turned to his left. “Are you happy with this?”
    “ With respect, Claude.” Heilburg’s lack of formality betrayed his anxiety. “I think we should have a council member on station locally.”
    The old man nodded. “I agree.” His gaze swivelled to Robert. “It will have to be you, Charles.”
    “ I am not sure I can take the time, President. You know I have only just returned from Brussels. The Chief Secretary wants to see me on Wednesday to receive my report and he will require me to take early action on it. This is a matter of importance to France.”
    “ But this is more important,” said Heilburg.
    “ I am sure that France can wait.” The president turned to his left. “We can arrange this, can we not, Marcus?”
    The grand treasurer nodded.
    “ Very well. It will be your opportunity to redeem yourself, Charles.”
    Robert observed his career prospects in government receding. However he knew where his personal priorities lay. He looked down at the table, the square cross reminding him of his duty. “As you say, Monsieur le President.”
    The grand treasurer slid a slim file across the table towards him and Charles Robert reached out and picked it up. He opened the file which contained a brochure for a hotel in Foix. Pinned to the cover was confirmation of his booking of a room for one month starting from the following evening. Charles noted that it was a single room. This was clearly a duty without any pleasure. There was also a further sheet of paper with the mobile phone number of Armand and an instruction to ring the young man at a specific time. Marcus Heilburg was always thorough.
    Charles realised that this was his dismissal. He rose, bowed slowly to the president and went out through the heavy panelled door, faced with the maroon baize on the outside. He knew he was not required to listen to the briefing given to Armand. In any case, he would need to make his peace with his long-suffering wife before he set off south only a few days after his return from Brussels.
    - 5 -
    It was a wet night in Marseilles. The back streets off the Quai de la Joliette were almost deserted - just the odd rat picking through the refuse in the gutters, the occasional cat tiptoeing round the puddles, irritably twitching raindrops from its ears. In the alley, grandly named the Rue de Printemps, there were two exceptions. A small, weasel-faced crook, hunch-backed against the rain, had a firm hold on the sleeve of a tall middle-aged individual who was sheltering beneath a large black umbrella as he was led up the alley.
    The tall man picked his way through the soggy garbage with almost as much care as the cat. He had a look of extreme distaste on his aquiline features, and the way in which he held back from his guide suggested that he would have his slightly worn suit dry-cleaned as soon as he returned to decent society.
    The weasel stopped beside an old oak door which was in better condition than most of the others in the alley and tapped twice. The two men stood in the steady downpour, waiting for a response, unaware that they were being carefully examined through a night-light