“We haven’t met,” he said. “But I believe we’ve corresponded.”

“Yes” was all Delorme said, while Mary Fraser remained silent, though she did shake the professor’s hand. More, Lacoste felt, out of habit than desire.

Lacoste looked around and spotted a table in the corner, a distance from Beauvoir and the professor.

“I think that one’s free,” she said, and watched as the CSIS agents practically climbed over the other tables to get to it.

Chief Inspector Lacoste had asked Olivier not to mention that she’d called ahead and reserved it.

“They work for CSIS,” said the professor, turning his back on them. “But of course, you know that. I think it would be a stretch to call them intelligence agents.”

“Then what are they?” asked Beauvoir.

“File clerks,” said Rosenblatt.

“How do you know them? And how come they know you?”

“I’ve petitioned the government for the files on Gerald Bull and Project Babylon for years. I was planning to write a major paper on him to mark the twentieth anniversary of his assassination. Those two are in the department that keeps the dossier on Dr. Bull, but they won’t release the information.”

“Why not?”

“That’s a good question, Inspector.”

He glanced behind him, and saw Mary Fraser swiftly drop her eyes. Then Rosenblatt returned his attention to Beauvoir.

“How did they react to the Supergun?”

“They were as surprised as you were,” said Beauvoir.

“I wonder if that’s true.”

*   *   *

“He was brilliant, you know,” Mary Fraser said. “Gerald Bull. The youngest person to get a Ph.D. in Canada. At the age of twenty-two. Twenty-two. He was light years ahead of the rest. But there was something wrong with him. He had no brakes. He drew no line. And if he saw one, he was determined to cross it.”

Isabelle Lacoste listened. The two CSIS agents were taking turns telling the story. It was now clear to Lacoste why they’d been sent.

Mary Fraser and Sean Delorme might not know much about being spies, but they knew a great deal about Gerald Bull. They were tasked with gathering, and guarding, that knowledge. And now they were letting it out.

Or, at least, some of it.

“Dr. Bull worked with the American government, he worked with the Brits. He was involved with the High Altitude Research Project,” said Sean Delorme, speaking, Lacoste noticed, without need of notes. “He was with McGill University in Montréal for a while. And then he moved to Brussels and went out on his own.”

Delorme took his glasses off and polished them with one of the linen napkins.

“It was a disaster,” he said, putting his glasses back on. “Gerald Bull went from being a scientist, a designer, to being an arms dealer.”

“And Canada lost control of him,” said Chief Inspector Lacoste.

“I think any control we thought we had over him was an illusion,” said Mary Fraser. “I think Gerald Bull was always beyond control because he was beyond caring.”

“That man isn’t much better,” said Sean Delorme, indicating Michael Rosenblatt across the bistro. “We have a file on him too, you know. Not very thick, of course. Did he tell you he helped design the Avro Arrow? One of the most sophisticated jet fighters in the world, before the project was scrapped. He’s no stranger to the arms race and arms deals. Don’t be taken in by him.”

*   *   *

“Do you seriously think Gerald Bull could have created the Supergun without the government knowing?” asked Rosenblatt.

“I don’t know,” said Beauvoir. “He seems to have built it outside this village without anyone knowing.”

“Given that that’s the quality of agent at work, do you wonder?” Rosenblatt waved toward Lacoste’s table.

The scientist seemed to want it both ways. The government knew and de facto supported Bull’s research, while at the same time, the government was too incompetent to know anything.

When Beauvoir pointed this out, Rosenblatt shook his head.

“You misunderstand me,” he said. “I think the Canadian government supported Dr. Bull’s research, encouraged it even. Poured money into it. Knew perfectly well what he was building. And I think the papers filed away at CSIS will prove all that.”

“But then?” asked Beauvoir.

“But then when Bull suddenly moved to Brussels and cut ties with Canada, they went, pardon the term, ballistic. They panicked. Listen, I’m no fan of Gerald Bull’s ethics. I think he would have done just about anything to make a fortune and prove himself right. To rub the nose of the establishment in what he created.”