Mireille Day

We just looked at each other.

We didn't do any handshakes or hugs or the French, you know, cheek kissing.

We just looked at each other as if, you know, if we touched each other, the whole thing might explode or take the magic away.

I thought, oh, my God, here he is handing me a Cordon Bleu plot and a real person.

I could ask him whatever I liked.

And so I said yes.

He had sent me a short summary, which was about 16 pages of text,

And he also sent me a kilo and a half of newspaper clippings about the heist, which was gold.

I mean, I could have found a bit of it on Google, but not what he sent me.

It was amazing to have that material.

Most of the time it squared up, but there were things that it

hadn't told me.

I mean, he covered quite, in quite a lot of detail, the day of the heist, the day of grand larceny.

There was hardly anything on the follow-ups on what happened after, which is what the information I got from the newspaper clippings.

And he had sent me a little proviso saying, just remember, it's my truth that counts, not the

accounts you might read in the newspaper who are just, you know, making things up for their own accounts.

But I did start to start to doubt him at times, you know, what he was telling me.

What was the truth?

Was there an ultimate capital T truth or was truth only different versions?

Up on my screen came the name, which I thought was Jean Kay, but it was actually Jeanne Kay, his daughter.