AFTER BUMBLING HIS WAY through a video blog with the police station in the background, Burke drove home. He wasn’t sure Lemaire would be impressed with the product, but he had other matters he needed to handle.

He had to talk to Claude, and he had to convince him to keep a low profile. No more protests, no more confrontations with police.

After parking his car, Burke jogged to the café, hoping Claude would be there.

And he was.

“We need to talk, and we need to talk now,” Burke said.

Claude looked like he was going to make a joke, but Burke’s face must have convinced him otherwise, because he said nothing instead. He got a server to handle his tables, and then he led Burke to his tiny, windowless office just off the kitchen.

“You look like something bad has happened, my friend,” said Claude, dropping into an ancient swivel chair that squeaked under his bulk.

Burke sat opposite and related what Fortin had said about possible charges. Claude’s face lost color at the mention of prison.

When he was finished, Burke waited for Claude to say something, but the older man didn’t say a word. A minute passed. Burke still waited.

“We supposedly live in a free society, but this justice system of ours is corrupt,” Claude said. “They want to put me in prison? I’m not the one ruining our little world here. I’m not the one who’s trying to drive away the common people. I’m not the one—”

“Claude, this is goddamn serious!” Burke said, angry. “You need to understand that you could end up in prison for a long time if you get into any more trouble. Forget your right to protest. Look after yourself. You’ve said some stupid things, and people have noticed.”

“Stupid things?” Claude exclaimed.

“You heard me, Claude,” Burke said. “You’re in trouble because you decided to provoke people. Now you could pay the price.”

Claude opened his mouth to speak, but then pressed his lips back together. Burke watched as he calmed down. His friend sunk deeper into his chair and nodded. His energy was gone, and he looked exhausted.

“I know you’re helping me, Paul, and I’m grateful,” he said. “All of this makes me angry, but mostly, it makes me sad. I promise to stay out of trouble. I’ll look after my little café here and keep my nose clean.”

“You’ve promised that before,” Burke said.

Claude nodded. “That’s true, I have,” he said. “But this time, I won’t break my word.”

Burke studied his friend and believed him. Claude looked beaten—and a little scared. Burke decided not to include how Fortin suggested Claude could be off the hook in return for Burke providing information.

“I should get back to my customers,” Claude said, getting slowly to his feet. He offered his hand to Burke, who shook it. “You’re a good friend, Paul. So much more than a regular customer. I won’t forget.”

Claude went back outside, Burke in his wake. They nodded to each other, and then Burke went home.

There, he packaged his video blog and sent it off to Lemaire. He figured the editor wouldn’t be happy with the product, but at least it was something.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Lemaire was on the phone telling Burke that the blog was rough, but would be usable with some extra editing.

“You can do better, and you need to do better, Paul,” Lemaire said. “Were you rushing?”

“I was. Sorry. I figured I had to get it to you as fast as possible,” said Burke. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it would work.

“Apology accepted,” Lemaire said. “Now, I have the sense you believe the Nice police might actually produce a result involving McManus and maybe even Den Weent.”

“I didn’t want to mention in my blog anything that might not happen, but I think we’re going to hear something soon from the police,” Burke said.

“Are you holding back some information, Paul?”

“No, I’m just saying the police sound a little more optimistic about finding out who might have killed McManus and Den Weent. I think they now believe the two deaths are linked.”

Burke considered giving Lemaire all the details of his conversation with Fortin about Petit but, in the end, opted not to. It was still too early.

“If you hear anything, you must alert me, Paul,” Lemaire said. “Understand?”

“I understand,” Burke replied. “Since we’re talking about crime, is there anything new on the Vachon murder? I read the nationals this morning.”

“My reporter didn’t get much different, and he’s good,” Lemaire said. “But with all the pressure on the police, I think they’ll produce some result very soon.”

“It’s all a little odd that the police have nothing,” Burke commented. “I mean, isn’t this the age of video surveillance and satellite imagery and all that stuff?”

“Yes, well, video surveillance is slowly getting bigger along the Riviera, especially in Nice, but there are some politicians down here who oppose its use,” Lemaire said. “They don’t want us to be like the Brits, who seem to have a camera or two on every street corner.”

“Does your reporter know if there’s any video of Vachon and his minder getting hit by the vehicle?” Burke asked.

“He said the police aren’t making any comment whatsoever about what they have.”

That wasn’t a surprise. He asked if the reporter knew if there were any street cameras in the area where Vachon and his bodyguard were killed. If there weren’t, then the matter of video would be irrelevant, unless some bystander happened to catch the accident with a smartphone.

“He said there are a couple of video cameras, but they’re a fair distance away,” Lemaire replied.

Burke wondered if the hit-and-run driver knew the position of video cameras before running over Vachon and his bodyguard.

They ended the call a few moments later, with Burke again promising to let Lemaire know if he learned anything new about the McManus and Den Weent deaths.

For the next hour, Burke relaxed on his couch. Once more, he was mentally exhausted, and yet he couldn’t stop his mind from spinning from thought to thought.

The phone rang. It was the sports anchor at a Nice TV station.

“Next Sunday, we’re doing a weekend show about the cycling season, especially the Tour de France, since it ends then. We would like you on the panel, if you’re available,” said the anchor.

“Me? Why me?” Burke asked.

“Your performance at that Secrets of the Pro Cycling World forum made the news, and lots of people liked what they heard. They want to hear more from you. We’ll pay you to do the show.”

Burke could hardly believe it, but he agreed, especially when he heard what he’d be paid. The anchor seemed pleased. They made the arrangements.

Ten minutes later, the phone rang again.

“It’s Matthieu Martin.”

Burke didn’t recognize the name, but the accent was definitely from Québec.

“We met a few days ago in Avignon at the police station,” said the voice. “I’m a reporter with a Montréal newspaper.”

Now Burke remembered. “I’m surprised to hear from you,” he said. “And I’m curious how you got my number.”

“I’m a reporter. I can get someone’s number without too much trouble,” Martin said with a laugh. “Anyway, my editor wants me to do a profile of you—an updated version. Your comments at the recent forum made the wire service, and I pitched the idea you’d be worth a follow-up piece.”

“Are you here in the Nice area?” Burke asked.

“No, I’m still following the Tour, but we can do it by Skype, if you’re OK with that,” Martin said.

“I don’t have Skype,” Burke said.

He’d heard about the software but had never had a need for it.

“It’s easy enough to set up, especially if you have a laptop with a camera built in,” Martin said.

Burke’s computer was indeed a laptop, and it had a camera.

“So, Paul, do you want to do the interview?” Martin asked. “I have to file today’s story soon. I could Skype you tonight, and we could do the interview then.”

Since he seemed to be in the habit of agreeing to proposals that came his way, Burke said he would. Martin quickly took him through the Skype download, step by step. Then came the sending of emails to establish a connection between them on Skype. Finally, they set a time for the interview.

“This will be good exposure for you,” Martin said and then rang off.

Burke felt energized, his lethargy shaken off by the two phone calls. He had to admit that it was somewhat exciting to have media people want his opinions after years of being mocked or ignored.