The Seventh Function of Language

Simon and Bayard are in a room that is half-laboratory, half-armory. In front of them, a man in a white coat is examining the mustachioed man’s pistol, which should have obliterated Simon’s brain. (“He’s Q,” thinks Simon.) The ballistics expert commentates as he inspects the weapon: “Nine millimeter; eight shots; double action; steel, finished in bronze, walnut butt; weight: 730 grams without the magazine.” It looks like a Walther PPK, he says, but the safety is the other way around: it’s a Makarov PM, a Soviet pistol. Except that …

Firearms, the expert explains, are like electric guitars. Fender, for instance, is an American firm that produces the Telecaster used by Keith Richards or Jimi Hendrix’s Stratocaster, but there are also Mexican or Japanese models produced under franchise, which are replicas of the original U.S. version: cheaper and generally less well finished, although often well-made.

This Makarov is a Bulgarian, not a Russian, model, which is probably why it jammed: the Russian models are very reliable, the Bulgarian copies slightly less so.

“Now, you’re going to laugh, Superintendent,” says the expert, showing him the umbrella that was removed from the man’s chest. “You see this hole? The point is hollow. It functions like a syringe, fed through the handle. All you have to do is press this trigger and it opens a valve that, with the aid of a compressed air cylinder, releases the liquid. The mechanism is impressively simple. It’s identical to the one used to eliminate Georgi Markov, the Bulgarian dissident, two years ago in London. You remember?” Superintendent Bayard does indeed remember that the murder had been attributed to the Bulgarian secret services. At the time, they were using ricin. But now they have a stronger poison, botulinum toxin, which acts by blocking neuromuscular transmission, thus provoking muscle paralysis and causing death in a matter of minutes, either by asphyxia or by stopping the heart.

Bayard, looking pensive, fiddles with the umbrella’s mechanism.

Would Simon Herzog happen to know any Bulgarians in the academic world?

Simon thinks.

Yes, he does know one.

35

The two Michels, Poniatowski and d’Ornano, have reported for duty in the president’s office. Giscard stands anxiously by the ground-floor window, looking out on the Élysée Gardens. As d’Ornano is smoking, Giscard asks him for a cigarette. Poniatowski, sitting in one of the luxurious armchairs in the informal part of the office, has poured himself a whiskey, which he puts down on the coffee table in front of him. He speaks first: “I talked to my contacts, who are in touch with Andropov.” Giscard says nothing because, like all men with this much power, he expects his employees to save him the bother of asking important questions. So Poniatowski replies to the silent question: “According to them, the KGB is not involved.”

Giscard: “What makes you think that opinion is credible?”

Ponia: “Several things. The most convincing being that in the short term they would not have any use for such a document. At a political level.”

Giscard: “Propaganda is critical in those countries. The document could be very useful to them.”

Ponia: “I doubt it. You can’t really say that Brezhnev has encouraged freedom of expression since he succeeded Khrushchev. There are no debates in the USSR, or only within the Party, and the public aren’t aware of those. So what counts is not the power of persuasion but the relative strengths of political forces.”

D’Ornano: “But it’s perfectly imaginable that Brezhnev or another member of the Party might want to use it internally. The central committee is a vipers’ nest. It would be a considerable asset.”

Ponia: “I can’t imagine Brezhnev wanting to assert his preeminence in that way. He doesn’t need to. The opposition is nonexistent. The system is locked in place. And no Central Committee member could order such an operation for his own profit without the authorities being informed.”

D’Ornano: “Except Andropov.”

Ponia (irritated): “Andropov is a shadowy figure. But he has more power as head of the KGB than he would have in any other position. I can’t see him embarking on a political adventure.”

D’Ornano (ironic): “True. Shadowy figures rarely do things like that. Talleyrand and Fouché had no political ambitions at all, did they?”

Ponia: “Well, they didn’t realize those ambitions.”

D’Ornano: “That’s debatable. At the Congress of Vienna—”

Giscard: “All right. What else?”

Ponia: “It seems highly improbable that the operation would have been carried out by the Bulgarian services without the approval of their big brother. On the other hand, it is possible to envisage Bulgarian agents selling their services to private interests. It is up to us to determine the nature of those private interests.”

D’Ornano: “Do the Bulgarians have that little control over their men?”

Ponia: “Corruption is widespread. No part of society is free of it, least of all the intelligence services.”