Brian Freemantle - The Predators

It was only at the end of the televised conference that Claudine was reminded, annoyed that she hadn’t remembered it earlier. She actually considered telephoning Volker that night but decided there was no urgency. She did, however, call him as soon as she got into the Europol building the following morning.

‘I’m just tidying up my final report on the Mary Beth kidnap,’ she said.

‘I’ve already filed mine,’ said the German.

‘I was wondering about all that pornography you got in?’ she said, recalling the miniature bird tattoo on the thigh of a masked Francoise parading in Sanglier’s house.

‘What about it?’ asked Volker.

‘I know it’s hardly necessary to remind you, but the regulations are that it’s got to be destroyed. With all the chaos at the end I thought you might have overlooked it.’

‘No,’ said the German, unoffended. ‘I intended to.’

‘Intended?’

‘Sanglier asked for it all. When he said pornography was going to be his next priority I thought he meant here, in Europol. He meant when he becomes the French Justice Minister, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ agreed Claudine.

Rosetti returned at the end of that week. He’d called from Rome, to warn her, and they met that night. It was virtually the only one she hadn’t spent with Blake.

‘Flavia died,’ he announced bluntly. ‘We actually thought there was going to be a recovery. Her eyes opened and there was some movement but it came down to muscle reflexes: even the squeezing of my hand.’

‘I’m sorry. So very sorry.’

‘The priest said it was for the best. So did the doctors. And they’re right.’

‘Yes.’

‘So now there’s us.’

Claudine didn’t reply.

‘I love you. I want to wait, obviously. Out of respect. But I’m asking you to marry me.’

‘Yes,’ said Claudine. ‘You should wait.’ Her period was already more than a week late. Now she didn’t think she should put off the pregnancy test any longer. That was the easy decision. The more difficult one was whether she still wanted to marry Hugo Rosetti.