He hesitated for the first time. The barrel of the gun wavered fractionally. Gini saw an expression of anxiety come into his beautiful eyes.

“And if I’m a bit stressed out then—don’t let that frighten you, okay? It’s just something that happens to me. I get this headache, right in back behind my eyes. I’ll show you what to do. You just have to kind of stroke me. Then it goes away. Also, I have some pills, some special pills. I might take one of them, maybe—to celebrate, you know?” He smiled. “I might give you one. We’ll see. Now—you have a watch? I’ll be back around eleven-twenty, eleven-thirty at the latest. What’s your name?”

“Genevieve. People call me Gini. Star—please…” Gini wondered if she threw the door open very quickly, whether it would take him by surprise; knock the gun from his hand. She was afraid to risk it; the gun was two inches from her face. “Look—why don’t you let me come with you? I’d write a better story that way.”

He looked uncertain, and for a moment Gini thought her suggestion had worked. Then he shook his head. In the same low, terrifyingly reasonable voice, he explained.

“No, I can’t do that,” he said. “At Cazarès, they have these people on the doors, front and back. Really heavy security. I can get in with Mathilde, that’s all fixed. But they wouldn’t let you in, Gini. They don’t know you, you see? Eleven-twenty—okay? Time means everything to free men.”

He had closed the doors before she was out of the car. As she reached them, she heard a lock and bolts engage. The garage was now pitch black. She felt in the dark for the outline of the car, and her hand rested on what she knew was the trunk. She froze, listening. She could hear movement, she was sure she could hear movement from inside that trunk. A shifting, stealthy sound. She backed away with a moan of fear. Then she flung herself at the doors and pulled at them. They did not budge an inch. From the car came a trickling sound.

Gini crouched down close to the doors. She could hear Star leading Madame Duval away. He was telling her, with an impatient edge to his voice, to hurry just a little. She wouldn’t want to be late, would she, he suggested, for her dear Maria’s great day?

Gini waited. She heard the footsteps depart. She knew what she had to do, but it took minutes to steel herself. She had to open the trunk of the car; she had to do that.

Eventually, with shaking hands, she did so. As the trunk opened, a courtesy light came on and she could see inside the compartment clearly. She immediately wished it had not. She gave a stifled cry and jerked back. The thing in the trunk moved. She pressed her hands over her mouth. It was very hard not to scream, and even harder not to slam the lid shut.