Page 80 of The Last Library of Paris

‘Come on.’

‘A hundred and five.’

‘You’ve processed a hundred and five visa applications in two weeks?’

‘Yes.’

‘By yourself?’

I grimaced. ‘Yes,’ I said.

He looked straight at me.

‘I don’t believe you.’

There was a pause.

‘Are all the sponsors genuine? And the job offers?’

I closed my eyes briefly.

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t believe that either.’

Was I imagining it or did Valentine look … amused? Impressed? I took another swig of gin.

‘Are you working with Parrish?’ I asked, emboldened by alcohol.

‘Good lord, no,’ said Valentine. ‘He’s a little toad.’

The butterflies in my stomach stopped fluttering quite so wildly.

‘So why were you in the bar with him tonight?’

‘I wasn’t in the bar with him,’ Valentine said. ‘I was in the bar to watch him.’

‘Watch him?’

‘Because I’m fairly sure he’s selling information to the PVDE and I don’t want him to compromise the escape routes.’

I took a breath. ‘I’ve seen Parrish with a PVDE officer before – Jose Costa – the one who was in the bar tonight.’

‘When was this?’

‘The other day. I followed Parrish and I watched him meet Costa in a café. I assume he told him about the visas then arranged to hand over the applications this evening.’

Valentine rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

‘You followed him? What made you do that?’

‘I kept seeing him in places where I wasn’t sure he should be,’ I said. ‘Places where he might have been gathering information about my friends who were helping Alves.’

‘Do you think he passed on that information?’

I shook my head. ‘I think Alves was sanctioned and the whole thing stopped before he got a chance.’

‘Good,’ said Valentine. He took a large swig of his drink. Then another one.