The men said nothing. The first one turned away from Ben and made a small gesture in the air, and moments later two black BMW saloons with tinted windows glided fast down the street and pulled up at the kerbside, one behind Ben’s Land Rover and the other in front. The doors opened and the rest of the team stepped out, except for the drivers. They all had the same hard-faced look. None of them spoke as they hovered near their vehicles, all eyes on Ben. The operation was slick and unobtrusive. If any of the locals who were strolling past, going in and out of the épicerie or browsing the stalls of fruit and vegetables outside had been paying any great attention to what was going on, only the most highly astute of them might have thought there was a very discreet arrest in progress.

‘Keys, please, Major?’

‘Here,’ Ben said, tossing them over. ‘And stop calling me Major.’ To the dog he said, ‘It’s all right, buddy. These men are going to take you home. Be on your best behaviour with them, all right?’ Storm licked his master’s hand, and seemed to reluctantly accept.

Two of the men got into Ben’s Land Rover, while Ben was shown into the back of the rearward BMW and sat with one man either side of him. This was feeling more and more like an arrest. They’d better not push it with the tough-guy stuff, he thought, if they wanted his cooperation. He watched as the Land Rover headed off with Storm’s anxious face looking out of the back window. Then the BMWs glided away from the kerb and up the street. Nobody in Ben’s car said a word. He settled back in the seat, took out his cigarettes and lit one up, mostly just to annoy them. He got no reaction.

The cars drove fast out of Valognes and headed for a private airfield a few kilometres away. The route was familiar to Ben, because it was the same airfield where Jeff had earned his pilot’s licence and kept the single-engine little Cessna Skyhawk that he liked to take out now and then for a joyride. Ben’s escorts had flown over in something a little more robust. He wasn’t completely surprised to see a sleek, compact Stratos jet sitting on the taxiway waiting for them. Someone in the front car must have radioed to say they were incoming, because the jet’s engines were whining loudly and the pilots were ready to go.

Stepping out of the car Ben had a last-minute moment of hesitation; then he thought fuck it and strode across the tarmac to board.