La Javanaise

On the Wednesday, Antoine offered to take me up to the Citadel.

He suggested it at breakfast, without looking at me, buttering a slice of bread with excessive care: something he had thought about all night and wanted to pass off as a spur-of-the-moment idea.

“It's a nice day,” he said. “Tasiaux said places. I thought… That's where we met. Well, not exactly there. But that's where you can see it from.”

“All right,” I said.