Then she saw the German and the gun and screamed.

‘Silence!’ the German snarled.

‘Will you two stop fighting,’ Mr Clarke shouted impatiently as he moved down the hallway. ‘I’m sick of—’

‘Don’t come in,’ Rosie shouted, causing the German to turn his aim on her. But it was only a short walk from the kitchen and Mr Clarke had entered the doorway almost before the words were out. His anger turned to shock.

‘Digby, old bean, what a delight,’ the German smiled, switching from accented French to fairly dreadful English. ‘I believe we met once before, in Monsieur Mannstein’s office.’

‘Briefly.’ Clarke nodded, trying to create an impression of confidence to reassure his children.

‘Where are the documents you stole from the German government?’

Mr Clarke shrugged innocently. ‘I believe you’re mistaking me for someone else.’

‘Oh, do you think so?’ the German said sarcastically, as he pointed the gun down towards Paul’s shoe. ‘Perhaps your memory will function better after your son has a hole in his foot?’

Paul wasn’t the bravest kid in the world and his stomach felt like someone was using it to churn butter.

‘I just brought the papers in with me,’ Mr Clarke said. ‘They’re in my briefcase.’

‘Very good. Show them to me,’ the German smiled, ‘but keep your hands where I can see them.’

Mr Clarke backed into the hallway and began walking towards the living room.

‘Follow your father,’ the German ordered, gesturing towards the door with the end of his gun.

Paul felt horribly small as he stepped through to the living room. Mr Clarke picked his briefcase up from the rug and rested it atop a small table to open it. Rosie stepped up to a long sofa and the German nodded that it was OK for her to sit down. Paul sat at the opposite end.

Meanwhile, Mr Clarke had sprung the catches on his briefcase.

‘Don’t open it,’ the German barked nervously. ‘Turn the case towards me, then place one hand on your head.’

Paul noticed Rosie’s hand creep towards the open front of her father’s bureau. He worried she’d get shot and wished she’d just sit still and do what she was told for once.

‘Now,’ the German said, addressing Mr Clarke, ‘with your free hand, open the case. Slowly.’

Mr Clarke raised the lid and the German smiled slightly as he stepped up. Paul saw that the case was full of manila folders, similar to the ones he’d stacked up in the back of the car.

The German kept the gun on Mr Clarke as he moved closer to the case. But his expression wilted as he flipped through the folders.

‘There are no blueprints here,’ the German said. ‘Where are the rest of the papers?’

Mr Clarke acted mystified. ‘This is all I have. I don’t know of any blueprints.’