The Mayan Codex

BERSERK.

Talk about an own goal…

Calque drew up in front of the Countess’s house. Milouins pulled the blue Renault across the entrance to the courtyard behind him, effectively sealing him in. Calque sighed, and rested his head back against the seat restraint. The Corpus certainly wasn’t beating about the bush.

Calque reached across and checked that the empty tape recorder was sufficiently well concealed behind the passenger seat cushion. Then he climbed slowly out of the car. No point in locking the damned thing. They’d simply bust in the window.

The last time he’d stood in this courtyard had been with Macron, two months before, with the full force of the French judicial system at their backs.

Now here he was again. Alone.