Extraordinary People ef-4
Page 34
She nodded. ‘I still hate her, though.’
Kirsty turned her head, something in the voice that dragged her back from the deep. That strange, whisky-sweet Scottish accent. ‘Who? Who does she hate?’
‘You,’ Sophie said.
Kirsty looked at her father with eyes that she could barely keep open. ‘Who is she?’
Enzo smiled. ‘She’s your sister, Kirsty. But she’s only kidding. Aren’t you, Sophie?’
Kirsty looked up at her again. Sophie smiled. ‘Sure I am.’ And she got down on her knees to put her arms around them both, and buried her face in her father’s neck.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Enzo stood in front of the Président’s desk. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and lay in geometric patterns across the blue carpet. The Lycée Bellevue shimmered distantly in the August heat. Summer courses were drawing to a close. A fresh intake would soon be arriving, young minds exercised in the arts of science and technology. The Président’s desk was as untidy as it always was. He came through from the outer office with his nose buried in an open folder. He wore a pair of frameless designer glasses perched lightly on the bridge of his nose.
He looked up and over the top of them at Enzo, and shook his hand. ‘Congratulations, Macleod. Damn fine job.’
Enzo was surprised. After their last meeting he was half-expecting to be sacked. ‘Thank you, Monsieur le Président.’
‘Take a seat, take a seat.’ And he took his own advice, flopping into the captain’s chair behind his desk and dropping his folder in front of him. He removed his glasses and let them swing gently from his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed his chin and regarded Enzo thoughtfully. Enzo pulled up a chair and sat down, and the Président picked up his folder again and held it out. ‘You’ll have seen most of these, no doubt.’
Enzo opened the folder to find it full of newspaper cuttings about the Jacques Gaillard case. He looked up. ‘Yes, Monsieur le Président.’
The Président leaned forward on his elbows. ‘There’s been a lot of interest, Macleod. We’ve had offers of funding.’ He waved a hand to indicate the paper blizzard on his desk. ‘A proposal to establish a Chair of Forensic Science. That would be quite a feather in our cap. Of course, I’d expect you to head up the department.’
Enzo raised an eyebrow. ‘Interesting idea, Monsieur le Président.’
‘It’ll take time, naturally, to set things in motion. So I’ve appointed a new head of biology, and I want you to take some time off. A sabbatical. Paid, of course. Come up with a concrete plan of implementation. A budget. Nothing too outrageous, mind.’
‘No, Monsieur le Président.’
‘And while you’re at it, it wouldn’t do any harm at all if you applied your very particular talents to unravelling a few more of those unsolved cases that Raggin’s been collecting.’
‘Raffin.’
‘What?’
‘Raffin. His name’s Roger Raffin.’
‘That’s what I said.’ The Président replaced his glasses carefully on the bridge of his nose and looked over them again at Enzo. ‘So what do you say?’
Enzo cocked his head and looked at him for a very long time. ‘Are those new glasses, Monsieur le Président?’
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