Dead Horsemeat

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A slack sea on a grey day. Annick surveys the little auditorium where Pama’s Annual General Meeting is taking place, a windowless room with grey walls and grey seats. Three or four hundred shareholders in dark suits, the soft hum of murmured conversations. Pama handles billions, it is one of France’s biggest corporations. But from the shareholders’ demeanour, anyone would think that that the slightest splash of colour, the hint of a raised voice would jeopardise the entire edifice.

Pama’s communications director for two years, Annick is sitting high up in the auditorium, every nerve taut. Beside her, Nicolas Berger, her childhood friend and loyal assistant, is already bored stiff.

The board of directors enters en masse. A hush falls over the room.

‘I always expect the shareholders to stand up at the entrance of the captain and his crew, like we used to do for our teachers at school,’ says Nicolas.

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