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“The Quai des Orfèvres can’t say.”
“Whatcanit say?” asked Gabriel.
Ménard drew a breath before answering. “It is the conclusion of the Quai des Orfèvres that the murder of Georges Fleury and the destruction of his gallery were the result of an embezzlement scheme by Bruno Gilbert and the man with the suitcase.”
“Is there a shred of evidence to support this nonsense?”
“A few hours before you and Madame Bancroft arrived at the gallery, someone transferred the entire balance of its accounts at Société Générale to the account of an anonymous shell company in the Channel Islands. The anonymous shell company then transferred it to the account of another anonymous shell company in the Bahamas, which in turn transferred it to the account of another anonymous shell company in the Cayman Islands. And then...”
“Poof?”
Ménard nodded.
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Twelve million euros. The Quai des Orfèvres is of the opinion the bomber wanted it all for himself.”
“Clean and simple,” said Gabriel. “And much more palatable than a scandal involving several million euros’ worth of forgeries hanging on the walls of the world’s most famous museum.”
“Thirty-four million euros, to be exact. All of which had to be raised from outside sources. If it were to become public, the reputation of one of France’s most treasured institutions would be severely tarnished.”
“And we can’t have that,” said Gabriel.
“Non,” agreed Ménard.
“But how do Sarah and I fit into this theory of theirs?”
“You and Madame Bancroft were never there, remember?”
Gabriel displayed the photograph of their arrival at the gallery. “And what happens if this becomes public?”
“Don’t worry, Allon. No chance of that.”
Gabriel placed the photograph atop the others. “How high does it go?”
“What’s that?”
“The cover-up.”
“Cover-up is an ugly word, Allon. Soaméricain.”
“La conspiration du silence.”
“Much better.”
“The director of the Police Nationale? The prefect?”
“Oh, no,” said Ménard. “Much higher than that. The ministers of interior and culture are involved. Perhaps evenle Palais.”
“You disapprove?”
“I am a loyal servant of the French Republic. But I have a conscience as well.”
“I’d listen to your conscience.”
“You never violated yours?”
“I was an intelligence operative,” said Gabriel without elaboration.
