‘I want to say at once how much I appreciate the involvement of Europol. And your coming personally,’ said McBride, anxious to get the diplomatic niceties out of the way and conclude the meeting as soon as possible to get back to where Norris’s team were assessing the incoming Internet messages. ‘I hope, Commissioner, that when you and I appear publicly, later, we’ll be able to build upon what’s in this morning’s papers.’ The overnight press release dominated the front page of every newspaper, with the issued photograph of Mary Beth McBride. ‘I’m afraid-’
‘Mr Ambassador,’ Sanglier said quickly, discerning the imminent dismissal. ‘I think there is something extremely important for us to discuss before talking about today’s press conference.’
Immediate hope overrode McBride’s irritation at being interrupted, but before he could speak Hillary blurted: ‘You’ve found her!’
‘No,’ said Sanglier bluntly. Addressing Norris more than the parents, he went on: ‘And our chances of doing so are seriously endangered by the interference of your own law enforcement agencies, acting without any jurisdiction. I’m giving you notice, as the senior Europol representative in charge of this investigation, that as well as my protest here this morning there will be an official Europol complaint to both your State Department and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, in Washington.’
Claudine was astonished. This was a Sanglier she’d never seen before, although the persona fitted her impression of a man with a deeply rooted but well-concealed inferiority complex. She’d never intended Sanglier to be as direct, or indeed as undiplomatic. Totally confident of their strength, Sanglier was emerging a bully. And was, she decided, actually enjoying it, in fact, dropping all his pretension and for once actually being himself. It was oddly like curing a patient whose mental illness prevented his being the person he actually was, only in reverse.
McBride was also visibly astonished. He flushed and said: ‘I think, sir, that you need to remember who I am as well as giving me an explanation.’
The legal attache leaned sideways, whispering to Harrison. Claudine wondered if Blake was as surprised as she was.
‘I think we should both give each other explanations,’ said Sanglier. ‘Before Europol was given its operational convention it was a computerized centre collating criminal intelligence between member countries. As such its operators learned the Internet was extensively used by pornographers-’
‘Pornographers!’ exclaimed Hillary, her composure going. The two FBI men exchanged looks. Norris shook his head.
‘Dr Carter will explain that,’ Sanglier said. ‘Hear me out. As part of our investigation – an investigation we believed your government, your Central Intelligence Agency and your Federal Bureau of Investigation fully accepted to be under Europol’s operational jurisdiction – our experts accessed various Internet web sites…’
Claudine was intently watching the interaction among the Americans facing her. McBride’s face was beginning to burn. Hillary was expressionless but looking fixedly at Norris. The chief of mission, a professional diplomat, remained impassive, too, despite the legal attache’s frantic whispering. Norris was blinking rapidly and as she looked the man straightened in his chair and pulled his tightly buttoned jacket down, as if wanting to remove some creases. Harding was staring down at the floor and Rampling was suddenly engrossed in a manicure problem affecting his left hand. A gamut of guilt, Claudine thought.
‘Late last night we read what appears to be a message sent generally through a large number of browsers, from the e-mail address of this embassy,’ Sanglier bulldozed on. ‘It obviously referred to your missing daughter. There’d been no prior consultation with any of my officers about that, which contravenes our understanding. It was also curiously worded, almost in code, suggesting some earlier correspondence of which my officers were also unaware…’ He paused again, as if inviting an interruption, before finishing: ‘That’s my explanation, ambassador. I’d welcome hearing yours.’
Claudine calculated that Sanglier, the high priest of diplomatic correctness, was on the very edge of going too far. It was unlikely, with the fate of his daughter involved, but if McBride became offended enough to order them from the embassy the situation they were trying to correct would, in fact, become even more difficult.
But McBride wasn’t sufficiently offended. He said, lamely: ‘I’m trying to get my daughter back.’
Seemingly anxious to curb Sanglier, Blake said: ‘And this isn’t the way to do it. This is the way to lose her, permanently.’
‘Say something!’ Hillary demanded of Norris.
‘They’re wrong,’ he replied dogmatically. ‘I’ve promised I’ll get your daughter back and I will.’
The first person delivery again, Claudine thought. She was right about the man. And he was inviting his own confrontation.
‘For Christ’s sake, let’s sort this out!’ implored McBride. ‘A child – my child – is at stake here!’
‘Dr Carter?’ Sanglier said.
Claudine’s concentration was absolute upon John Norris. The only controlling authority to which the man would defer would be McBride here in Brussels or recognizably tided officials in Washington. She had to face the man down now, in front of the ambassador. It would destroy any possibility of a proper working relationship between them but the alternative was the destruction of Mary Beth McBride. And Claudine was unafraid – eager even – to make one enemy she didn’t doubt she could defeat to get to the far more threatening adversary she didn’t, at the moment, know how to challenge.
Norris was equally intent upon Claudine, isolating her as his opponent. He was smiling faintly. Claudine attacked. ‘The puncture was entirely accidental?’
‘There are still some tests to be carried out.’ Norris settled back comfortably, considering the encounter a further establishment of his position.
Claudine saw Harding’s eyes flicker sideways, towards his superior. Rampling was frowning at the man, too. ‘At this moment is there any evidence to suggest that the puncture was anything but accidental?’
‘I’m awaiting the results of the test.’
It wasn’t going to be difficult, thought Claudine. ‘Could the misunderstanding at the school have been anticipated?’
‘No. It should not have happened. The culprit has already been disciplined.’
‘Mary should not have been permitted to leave the school?’
‘No.’
‘Nor should she have walked off, alone? She should have returned to the building?’
There was a vague wariness. ‘Yes.’
‘Could it have been anticipated that she wouldn’t?’
Beside the FBI chief Harding was looking down hard at the floor again. McBride and his wife were moving their heads back and forth with each question and answer.
Norris said: ‘No.’
Claudine prolonged the silence until McBride shifted impatiently. She said: ‘You’ve just admitted totally misunderstanding the crime we are investigating. And by your refusal to listen to anyone’s voice or opinion other than your own you’re putting yourself – your reputation – before saving a child…’
There was an audible intake of breath from the legal attache. McBride swivelled to the FBI man but before the ambassador could speak Norris shook his head, the smile broadening, and said: ‘This is quite ridiculous. We’re wasting time here, sir-’
‘How could Mary have been targeted as a kidnap victim without its being known in advance that the car would have a puncture, the school would misunderstand a telephone message and she’d walk off up the rue du Canal when there was no one waiting to collect her?’ demanded Claudine.
The room was frozen by silence. She had little right to condemn Sanglier for bullying, Claudine accepted. But there was a very important difference. She was knowingly doing it to achieve an essential end result.
‘I really don’t think this should-’ Norris started, but McBride stretched sideways, stopping the man with a warding-off gesture. He leaned forward over his desk towards Claudine and said: ‘You’ve got an audience, doctor. I’m going to listen to everything you say but by Christ you’d better be right.’
Claudine’s attention hadn’t wavered from Norris. His mouth was moving, the words barely held back, and she decided that in his outrage the man was only just acknowledging the ambassador’s authority. Remembering their supposed ignorance of the incoming Mary, Mary message Claudine demanded: ‘Tell me what their approach was.’
For a moment the FBI chief remained motionless, until McBride made another gesture, a beckoning motion
