The conversation is beginning to interest Savoy.
"So it could be anyone who came to Cannes to attend the Film Festival..."
"Yes, having first made a conscious decision to create an atmosphere of terror for some completely absurd reason, for example 'to overthrow the dictatorship of fashion' or 'to put a stop to the making of films that provoke violence.' The press will come up with some bloodcurdling soubriquet for him and start chasing various leads. Crimes that have nothing to do with the killer will start being attributed to him. Panic will ensue and only come to an end if by chance--and I repeat, by chance--the killer is caught. These killers are often only active for a short period of time and then disappear completely, having left their mark on history. They may perhaps write a diary that will be discovered after their death, but that's all."
Savoy has stopped looking at his watch. His phone rings, but he decides not to answer. The subject is far more complicated than he thought.
"So you agree with me?"
"Yes," says the expert from Scotland Yard, the man who had become a legend by solving five cases that everyone else had given up on.
"Why do you think we're dealing with a serial killer?" Savoy asks.
Morris sees what looks like an e-mail flash up on his computer and he smiles. The inspector has finally started to show a little respect for what he has to say.
"Because of the complete absence of motive. Most of these criminals have what we call a 'signature': they choose one type of victim, homosexuals, say, or prostitutes, beggars, courting couples. Others are known as 'asymmetrical killers': they kill because they can't control their impulse to kill. When they reach a point where that impulse is satisfied, they stop killing until the urge to kill again becomes unbearable. I think that is the kind of killer we have here.
"There are several points to consider in this case. The criminal is highly sophisticated. He has chosen a different weapon each time--his bare hands, poison, and a stiletto knife. He's not motivated by the usual things: sex, alcohol, or some evident mental disorder. He knows the human anatomy, and that, so far, has been his only 'signature.' He must have planned the crimes in advance because the poison he used isn't easy to obtain, and so we could classify him as a killer with a mission, but one who still doesn't quite know what that mission is. From what I know of the young girl's murder, and this is the only clue we have so far, he used a type of Russian martial art called Sambo.
"I could go further and say that it's part of his signature to get close to his chosen victim and befriend him or her for a while, but that theory doesn't fit with the murder committed in the middle of a lunch party on a beach in Cannes. The victim apparently had two bodyguards with him and they would have been sure to react if the killer had gone anywhere near their boss, plus the victim was under surveillance by Europol."
Russian. Savoy considers using his phone to ask for an urgent search of all the hotels in Cannes. A man, about forty, well-dressed, slightly graying hair--and Russian.
"The fact that he used a Russian martial art technique doesn't mean he himself is Russian," says Morris, reading Savoy's mind like the good ex-policeman he is. "Just as we cannot assume he's a South American Indian because he used curare."
"So what do we do?"
"We just have to wait for him to commit his next murder."
6:50 P.M.
Cinderella!
If people believed more in fairy tales instead of just listening to their husbands and parents--who think everything is impossible--they would be experiencing what she's experiencing now, being driven along in one of the innumerable limousines that are slowly but surely heading for the steps and the red carpet--the biggest catwalk in the world.
The Star is by her side, smiling and wearing the obligatory beautifully cut suit. He asks if she's nervous. Of course not: tension, nerves, anxiety, and fear don't exist in dreams. Everything is perfect; it's just like in a movie--the heroine suffers, struggles, and finally achieves everything she has always wanted.
"If Hamid Hussein decides to go ahead with the project and the film is the success he hopes it will be, then prepare yourself for more such moments."
If Hamid Hussein decides to go ahead with the project? Isn't it all signed and sealed?
"But I signed a contract when I went to collect my outfit in the Gift Room."
"Look, forget what I said. I don't want to spoil your special moment."
"No, please, go on."
The Star was expecting the silly girl to say exactly that, and he takes enormous pleasure in doing as she asks.
"I've been involved in loads of projects that begin and never come to anything. It's all part of the game, but, like I say, don't worry about that now."
"But the contract..."
"Contracts are there for lawyers to argue over while they earn their money. Please, forget what I said. Enjoy the moment."
The "moment" is approaching. Because of the slow traffic, people can see who is inside the cars, despite the smoked-glass windows separating mere mortals from the chosen. The Star waves; hands bang on the window asking him to open it just for a moment, to give them an autograph, to have a photo taken.
The Star keeps waving, as if he didn't understand what they wanted and a smile from him was enough to flood the world with light.