The Fear Index

don’t mind my saying so, after such a trauma, you need to be careful.’
    ‘I will be, don’t worry.’
    ‘At least Madame Hoffmann is in a hospital, where they can treat her for delayed shock …’
    ‘Inspector, I’ll be fine, all right?’
    Quarry put his chin in his hand and looked out of the window to discourage further conversation. Leclerc stared out at the street on the other side. To think that barely twenty-four hours earlier he had been starting a routine night shift! Truly, one never knew what life would throw at you. The chief had called from his dinner in Zurich to offer his congratulations on ‘a swift resolution of a potentially embarrassing situation’: the Finance Ministry was pleased; Geneva’s reputation as a centre of investment would be unaffected by this aberration. Still, he felt he had failed somehow – had always been that crucial hour or two behind the game. If only I had gone with Hoffmann to the hospital at dawn, he thought, and insisted that he stay for treatment, then none of it would have happened. He said, almost to himself, ‘I should have handled it better.’
    Quarry gave him a sideways look. ‘What’s that?’
    ‘I was thinking, monsieur , that I could have dealt with things better, and then perhaps this whole tragedy could have been avoided. For example, I could have spotted earlier on – right from the start, as a matter of fact – that Hoffmann was in an advanced state of psychosis.’ He thought of the Darwin book and Hoffmann’s crazed assertion that the man in the picture somehow provided a clue as to why he had been attacked.
    ‘Maybe.’ Quarry sounded unconvinced.
    ‘Or again, at Madame Hoffmann’s exhibition—’
    ‘Look,’ said Quarry impatiently, ‘you want the truth? Alex was a weird guy. Always was. I should’ve known what I was getting into the first night I met him. So it’s nothing to do with you, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.’
    ‘Even so …’
    ‘Don’t get me wrong: I’m desperately sorry it ended like that for him. But imagine it: all that time, practically running an entire shadow company right under my nose – spying on me, on his wife, on himself …’
    Leclerc thought of how often he had heard such exclamations of disbelief from wives and husbands, lovers and friends; of how little we know of what actually goes on in the minds of those we think we know best. He said mildly, ‘What will happen to the company without him?’
    ‘The company? What company? The company is finished.’
    ‘Yes, I can see that the publicity might be damaging.’
    ‘Oh really? You think so? “Schizophrenic genius banker goes on rampage, murders two, sets fire to building” – that kind of thing?’
    The car drew up outside the office block. Quarry rested his head on the back of the seat and stared at the roof. He let out a long sigh. ‘What a bugger it all is.’
    ‘Indeed.’
    ‘Oh well.’ Wearily Quarry opened the door. ‘I expect we’ll talk again in the morning.’
    Leclerc said, ‘No, monsieur , at least not with me. The case has been reassigned to a very able young officer – Moynier. You’ll find him efficient to deal with.’
    ‘Oh, okay.’ Quarry seemed vaguely disappointed. He shook the policeman’s hand. ‘I’ll wait to hear from your colleague, then. Good night.’
    He climbed out of the car, his long legs swinging easily on to the pavement.
    ‘Good night. Incidentally,’ Leclerc added quickly, before Quarry shut the door. He leaned across the back seat. ‘Your technical problems earlier – I meant to ask – how serious were they?’
    The habit of deception still came easily to Quarry. ‘That was nothing – not serious at all.’
    ‘Only your colleague said you had lost control of your system …’
    ‘He didn’t mean it literally. You know computers.’
    ‘Ah yes, absolutely – computers!’
    Quarry closed the door. The patrol car pulled away. Leclerc glanced back at the financier as he entered the building. Some shadow passed across his mind but he was too tired to pursue it.
    ‘Where to, boss?’ asked the driver.
    Leclerc said, ‘South on the road to Annecy-le-Vieux.’
    ‘Your place is in France?’
    ‘Just over the frontier. I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford to live in Geneva any more.’
    ‘I know exactly what you mean. It’s all been taken over by foreigners.’
    The driver started to talk about property prices. Leclerc settled down in his seat and closed his eyes. He