Page 90 of A Death in Cornwall

“That’s not a proverb, either, Don Orsati.”

36

Haute-Corse

The operational planning commenced a few minutes after eight the following morning when René Monjean, after yet another overnight crossing from the mainland, guided Mistral into the tiny marina in the resort town of Porto. Gabriel was there to meet him. They put the vessel in order, then climbed into the car and headed eastward into the mountains.

“What happened to your headlight, Monsieur Allon?”

“Vandalism.”

“Corsicans,” muttered Monjean disdainfully.

“Imagine how they feel about you Marseillais.”

“They can’t stand us. But then again, Corsicans can’t stand anyone. That’s why they’re Corsicans.” Monjean lit a cigarette and eyed Gabriel through a cloud of smoke. “You, however, seem to be quite well connected on the island.”

“It pays to have friends like Don Orsati in my line of work.”

“And what is your game these days?”

“I’m an art conservator. But in my spare time, I help the police solve art-related crimes.”

“That’s interesting,” said Monjean. “In my spare time, I sometimes commit art-related crimes.”

“Stolen anything lately, René?”

“That depends on the ground rules of our relationship.”

“One hand washes the other and both hands wash the face.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a Corsican proverb. It means that I will use you as a source or an operative, but I will never breathe a word about you to my friends in the French police. Or any other police force, for that matter. Everything will be entre nous.”

“What about money?”

“It doesn’t come from singing.”

“Another Corsican proverb?”

Gabriel nodded. “I’ll pay you whatever you want. Provided, of course, your fee is within reason.”

“It would depend on the nature of the job and the value of the target.”

“I need you to steal a few documents from a law firm in Monaco.”

“How many?”

“Several million.”

Monjean laughed. “How am I supposed to carry several million documents out of an office building in Monaco?”

“You’re going to copy them off a digital storage device.”

“It’s not my thing, Monsieur Allon. I steal objects, not data.”

“But it’s Ingrid’s thing.”

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