Kneeling beside him, she reached in and tore the fascia away. She threw it behind her, and Petrovitch retrieved a nest of wires. He got his thumb through them and jerked them free.

“Okay. The two red ones. Twist the bare ends together. Now the black one; just wind it round where the other two join. Huy, check it’s not in gear.”

“How do I do that?”

He stopped and blinked. “You can’t drive?”

“No.”

“I hate to say the words ‘crash’ and ‘course’ together, but you’re about to get a crash course. Get in.”

“Why not you?”

“Because I can’t hold the steering wheel, I can barely see and I can’t work the gear stick.”

She got in, and barked her knees against the dash. “You should have stolen a bigger car.”

“Push the seat back, woman! Lever under your seat, pull it up and kick back.”

Madeleine shot back with a bang that jarred her neck.

Petrovitch ground his teeth. “Yobany stos. Put your hand on the gear stick: move it from side to side.”

“It won’t,” she said.

“Pull it down until it comes loose.”

“Done.”

“At last. My record in St. Petersburg was fifteen seconds, from brick through the window to driving away. I’m embarrassed how long this is taking.” He reached over her legs to fumble at the wires, touching a blue-shrouded cable to the spliced ends. It made fat blue sparks as he ran the frayed copper end up and down the bare metal.

The engine turned over and didn’t catch at first.

“Right foot on the gas. Lightly,” he added quickly as she stamped down, “not all the way.” He tried the wire again, and after a few asthmatic wheezes, the engine caught and spluttered into life, but always threatening to stall again. “More gas. Don’t flood the carb, though.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she yelled over the clattering roar.

“Just don’t touch anything until I’m on board.” He slammed her door shut and jogged as best as he could around the bonnet. As he slid into the passenger seat, she was fixing her seatbelt in place.

“What?” she said, looking at him looking at her.

“Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.” He tried to reach behind him, and each time the pain in his shoulder made him pull back. “Okay, forget it. Handbrake.”

“Which is…” Her hands fluttered over the controls.

“Here! Behind the gear stick. Never mind.” He winced as he gripped it and gasped as he let it free. “Right. Turn the wheel all the way to the left, put it into first gear and let’s get the huy out of here.”

“And I do that…?”

“You use the clutch.”

“You know,” she said, “you’re dead bossy.”

“I’m trying to save upward of twenty-five million people. I think that allows me to do a bit of shouting.”