In spite of the stress and tension that had marked the previous few days, Daniel slept like a log. Laurent woke his pupil at seven-thirty with a shake. “Time to get up, my boy,” he said, in a gentle but imperative tone. “We’ve got a busy schedule ahead of us today.” He caressed Daniel’s forehead ...
The weather man was wrong again. He had forecast snow, but in Van In’s bedroom it was a tropical seventy degrees. Hannelore was lying on top of the duvet, sleeping like a newborn Venus. Van In switched on the bedside lamp and carefully got out of bed. Hannelore turned on h...
The flat Belgian landscape to which the great Jacques Brel once pledged his heart was on the point of slipping into a misty sleep. The temperature in Flanders that afternoon had been unbearably warm, but now a September chill had risen up from the centuries-old canal in front of the house. Change...