The Camera by Cann Simon

Author:Cann, Simon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Coombe Hill Publishing
Published: 2017-05-09T00:00:00+00:00

forty

Unlike the hotel bar, le Goff’s office seemed to encapsulate something of the Haussmannian and something of the modern. The high ceilings, the full-length windows opening onto a balcony, and the herringbone-patterned wood floor all said old. The sleek desk and the white, fabric-covered sofas screamed modern.

Benoit le Goff—a man who seemed to be unknown in Paris and the rest of France, if the search engines were to be believed—was drinking something long and cold. “You’re sure you don’t want anything to drink, Leathan?”

I nodded my affirmation. “I’ve got one simple question,” I said. “And then a follow-up.”

“Where I come from,” said le Goff, “we call that two questions.”

“Then I’ve got two questions.”

Le Goff held his hands out, as if to show he was hiding nothing. A small nod of his head indicated I should continue.

“Who gave you the tip?” I asked. “Who told you that this Dutch couple are in Paris and the purpose of their visit is to assassinate you?”

Le Goff reached for his drink. Condensation was forming on the outside of his glass. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. If I had told him I owed him ten cents, then his tone and message would have been the same.

“But it does matter,” I said.

Le Goff couldn’t even be bothered to shrug—he just lifted his eyebrows halfheartedly, as if communicate whatever he would have communicated with a shrug.

I waited.

The breeze blew through the open window, carrying the sound of the evening traffic and some smog-infused air, reminding me that it was still hot and steamy outside.

Le Goff tilted his head again. An invitation for me to speak again.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“No. Why did this anonymous person give you the tip?”

Le Goff half smiled, clearly too tired for any full show of emotion. “Because.”

It was my turn to tilt my head and encourage elaboration.

“Why does anybody do anything?” asked le Goff, not expecting an answer. “For my gratitude. For whatever he can get. To prove himself.” He took another sip, carefully replacing his glass on the table. “I don’t ask why—I just accept information.” He leaned forward, holding up a finger. “I don’t necessarily believe what I’m told—but I will listen, and this information was good. We found the couple I had been told about, at the location I had been told, and when we took their camera, we found pictures of me. They had been following me.”

I let the rationalization sink in before responding.

“Can I offer you a thought?” I said. “You wanted me to work for you because you said I had skills—and contacts, but let’s focus on skills—that aren’t readily available to you. In other words, part of why you hired me is because I think differently from you. Is that a fair assessment?”

He nodded; reluctantly, but he nodded.

“In my world, you say something because you want a reaction.” I took a breath, calibrating his reaction. “I tell you your wife’s sleeping with another man with an intent. For instance, my intent may be that you’ll go round and punch that guy.

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