Moreau hadn't slept.
He stood in front of the long oak table in the briefing room below the Élysée.
A thin stack of copies sat before each chair.
His hand hovered over them for a second before setting the final copy down.
He checked his watch.
10:27.
Three minutes later, the door opened.
Paul Langevin entered first, tall, white-haired, walking with the same rigid posture he'd had since the Sorbonne.
Pierre Auger followed, younger, holding a notepad already covered in formulas.
Maurice Ponte came in adjusting his round spectacles, nodding without a word.
Then Jean Perrin, sharp-eyed, briefcase in hand, and finally Henri Chrétien, last as always.
Moreau waited until all were seated.
No aides.
No stenographer.
He closed the door himself.