False Nine by Philip Kerr Page B

than likely. Tempest O’Brien told me she thought that the tweet about Rafinha was going to cost me ten grand, which works out at almost seventy-two quid a character.
    Jérôme Dumas’s apartment was in the sixteenth arrondissement , in Avenue Henri Martin, on the edge of the Bois de Boulogne. The apartment was at least four hundred square metres, on the top floor of a high-end building near the embassy of Bangladesh and, if you like that kind of thing, sumptuously designed by some modern architect. Most of the furniture looked like it was out of an old sci-fi movie about the future. I was met there with the keys by the PSG club fixer, Guy Mandel, who showed me around the place and gave me some useful background on the missing player.
    ‘Dumas came here from AS Monaco about a year ago for twenty million euros,’ he explained. ‘Bit of an attitude. But then that’s not unusual. Originally from Guadeloupe in the French Caribbean. That’s not unusual either, as it happens. I don’t know how much you know about the place but for a tiny island with the population less than the city of Lyons, it punches well above its weight. Of the French World Cup Squad in 2006 seven were from Guadeloupe. The island is part of France, see, so it’s not a FIFA-recognised country. Just as well, probably, otherwise we wouldn’t have had people like Thierry Henry, Sylvain Wiltord, William Gallas, Lilian Thuram, Nicolas Anelka and Philippe Christanval eligible to play for us.’
    ‘I never knew,’ I said. ‘So much great football from such a small island.’
    ‘Not that there’s a great deal of affection for France on the island itself. I believe most of the islanders tend to side with Brazil. Can’t say I blame them really. France tends to call these people scum when they live in the suburbs and French only when they play for the team. I expect it’s the same in England.’
    I nodded. ‘Perhaps.’
    ‘They could probably have qualified for the World Cup in Brazil if we’d given them the opportunity. In other words if we – the French – hadn’t blocked them from becoming a FIFA member.’
    ‘I had no idea,’ I said.
    ‘There are probably a lot more I’ve forgotten who come from Guadeloupe. I only know these names because Jérôme Dumas told me about them. He was very proud of his island heritage.’
    ‘Do you know how long he’s lived in France?’
    ‘No idea. His life before Monaco is a bit of a mystery, really.’
    Comprising an entrance hall, a large living room, a second rotunda lounge of fifty square metres, several bedrooms, a superb kitchen, a gymnasium and a wine cellar, the apartment would have been any young man’s dream. As would have been the Lamborghini and the Range Rover that occupied the apartment’s two parking spaces. But for me it was the roof gardens that really distinguished the place; the views – which included the new Louis Vuitton Museum designed by Frank Gehry – were superb and there was a large variety of mature plants that showed no sign of having been neglected by the owner’s absence.
    ‘Who looks after this place?’
    ‘There’s a maid and a gardener who come in almost every other day. A boy who cleans the cars. A cook who prepares meals according to nutritional guidelines drawn up by the club. He had a PA called Alice, who he let go after signing the deal with FCB. Nice girl. Clever.’
    ‘I shall certainly want to speak to her,’ I said.
    ‘All the details are on the attached file I sent by email. And she’s coming over here in an hour or so to assist you in any way she can.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘There’s even an art advisor employed by a private bank who bought pictures for him. He had access to the place so that he could come in and hang pictures and position sculptures.’
    ‘Is this one of them, do you think?’
    I was looking at a painting of a pumpkin by Yayoi Kusama. I wouldn’t have minded having a painting by Yayoi Kusama myself.
    Mandel pulled a face. ‘Not my