‘God, no. The countryside is wall-to-wall manure.’

The thought of the future had brought her conversation with Ada on the roof of the Au Petit Suisse abruptly back.

‘Would you?’ she asked, wrinkling her nose as she put the lid back on the pot.

‘Would I what?’

‘Look for a different job? I mean, when this is over and no one needs rescuing any more.’

‘Hmm. I think that somewhat depends.’

‘On what?’

‘Who wins this struggle in our nation.’

‘Well, yes, but. In a perfect world. A world where you can live whatever life would make you happy.’

‘Interesting.’ He folded his arms, tapping an elegant finger against his elbow. ‘I have always pictured myself retiring to a quiet town perhaps in the mountains. Somewhere sedate, with a garden I can tend all year round.’

Camille’s eyebrow arched. ‘Really?’

‘No. I kill plants. It would be ill-advised.’

She snorted and they moved to the next room, working down a long corridor trying each door in turn.

Too many were locked. Who needed to lock rooms in an abandoned abbey?

There were fresh footprints in the dust. Something rattled.

Camille flung out an arm, stopping Guil in his tracks. They froze as the noise came again. Exchanging a look, they drew their weapons noiselessly.

Then a rat scurried from under a broken table, sending the snapped wood clattering.

Camille slipped her pistol back into her belt.

‘The sooner we’re out of here, the better.’

They found another open door leading into a room with a desk and chair, an expensive, but mud-stained jacket slung over the back of it.

‘What do you think Al will do after this is all over? Professional layabout?’

Guil gave her a pointed look. ‘You invited him into this team the same as the rest of us. You didn’t have to.’

‘I know.’

‘I think he challenges you and you don’t like it.’

She sighed. ‘I get you’re into the whole revolutionary “speak truth to power” thing but could you stop taking me apart so easily? I’m fragile.’

He laughed. ‘Camille Laroche, fragile is the last thing you are.’

‘You’ve still not told me what you’d really want for your future. What you would choose for yourself. You know, if not murdering shrubbery.’

‘Honestly? I think I would like to write – for a paper, pamphlets, I am not entirely sure. Even after the dust has settled on this revolution there will be many wrongs that need righting. I want to bring people’s attention to those problems that are all too easy to ignore.’

‘But what about your family? Out of all of us you have the most family left. Why stay here? Why not go back to Marseilles and be out of it.’