‘Shaykh, Jamshid, Mahmud, Dariush, hurry up to those houses and find a suitable vehicle while the rest of us stay here and guard the cargo. Steal it and bring it back here as fast as you can. If anyone gives you any trouble, kill them, but do it quietly.’ Nazim thought for a moment, then added, ‘In fact, bring back two suitable vehicles. We also need a car capable of carrying six men.’

‘Why do we need a car as well, Nazim?’

‘Because,’ Nazim explained as patiently as possible, ‘we can’t drive all the way to Paris in some shit-covered tractor. We wouldn’t make it halfway down the motorway before we were stopped. And none of us wants that. So our first priority is to get the cargo off the beach and transport it somewhere safe, not too far away, while six of us slip back to the port and collect the vans, so we can carry on to Paris like before. Hence the need for a reasonably large car that can carry two men up front and four in the back. Do you understand?’

They understood. It seemed like a fine plan.

Until they started trying to put it into action.

As instructed, Shaykh, Mahmud, Jamshid and Dariush shouldered their AK-47s and set off at a sprint towards the distant houses. A track from the beach connected with a narrow road that wound upwards through the hills and fields. They had only the vaguest notion of what a French farm might look like, but even so the very first property they came to looked promising. It was a pretty black-and-white traditional Normandy cottage with a neat garden filled with flower beds, a picket fence and a few scattered barn-sized outbuildings, one of which the four men were certain must contain the large truck or tractor and trailer they were looking for.

‘Be on your guard,’ Shaykh warned the others. ‘Any sign of trouble, we must end it fast.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Jamshid replied, pulling a face. ‘You heard what Nazim said. These people are just weak peasants. They won’t give us any problem.’

Unslinging their weapons they hopped over the fence and began hunting through the property. The first outbuilding they came to was a lean-to garage in which a tiny, bright red Citroën was parked.

‘Look, guys, the keys are in it,’ said Dariush, peering in the driver’s window. ‘We can steal it, easy.’

‘I’m not getting in that thing,’ Mahmud said, pointing disdainfully at the chromed ichthys Christian emblem stuck to the back. ‘Besides, we’d never get six of us inside.’ Which was a fair point, since the car could seat only four large adults at a pinch.

‘We could always steal this one and another as well.’

‘Then we’d have to steal three vehicles, not just two,’ Shaykh said. This was getting complicated.