Ben lifted one of the weapons off the bunk. It was the full-on military version with a four-way fire selector switch: safe, single shot, three-shot burst, fully automatic. One of the most illegal items for any civilian, in any country, to possess. It was like new, barely used, oiled and shiny. The bolt mechanism felt as slick as glass. ‘Are you expecting a war to break out, Fred?’

‘I get the feeling there’s going to be one tonight,’ Fred replied.

Things moved fast after that. Ben and Roth unchained Hasan Jafari and marched him outside to the car. This time he was allowed to ride up front with Ben, while Roth sat behind him with a pistol to his head. The two submachine guns were strapped up inside Ben’s green bag on the back seat, together with all the loaded magazines and enough extra ammunition to lay waste to a regiment.

As they headed back across the city, Jafari told them that the way inside the abandoned ghost station of Saint-Martin was via its neighbouring working station, République. That destination took them right into the heart of Paris, north of the river.

It was after 2.30 a.m. by the time they parked up the Alpina in a nearby street and walked the rest of the way, with Jafari two steps ahead and Roth still discreetly pointing the pistol at him through the pocket of his jacket. Ben’s heavy bag gave a metallic jinking sound at every step. Any gendarme who picked this moment to stop them would get quite a surprise.

The République station was almost empty at this time of night. Ben, Roth and their prisoner entered the breezy tunnel from the street like regular travellers, bought tickets at the automated kiosk and made their way down through the bright white-tiled corridors, heading for the Lines 8 and 9 platforms. The decommissioned station of Saint-Martin lay hidden between here and Strasbourg-Saint-Denis on the westbound line.

Roth was over his earlier reluctance and seemed cheerful, almost jaunty. Jafari was edgy and mostly silent as he walked two steps ahead of them, like any prisoner being forced to lead the enemy back to his own secret camp. Ben was watching him closely in case he tried to bolt or trick them, and a couple of times caught him secretly smirking to himself. Roth was right. Jafari was looking forward to steering his captors straight into a nice little trap.