The German swung the gun around and shouted, ‘Which one of your children would you like me to kill first?’

Paul stared at his knees with a cushion clutched tightly to his side, but Rosie eyeballed the German defiantly.

‘Maybe after I’ve killed you and your son, my colleagues and I can have some fun with your daughter,’ the German smiled. ‘She’s feisty!’

Mr Clarke didn’t rise to the twisted threat and tried to sound sincere. ‘Sir, I truly don’t know of any other papers.’

‘Liar,’ the German shouted, as the main door of the apartment – which had been left ajar – moved with a slight kick.

A frail voice came from behind it. ‘Monsieur Clarke? I heard shouting …’

The gun fired and Paul hollered as the bullet smashed into Madame Mujard’s face. The impact killed the frail concierge instantly and the bullet exited the back of her skull, hitting the hallway wall with chunks of brain and skull for company.

The German baulked when he saw his elderly victim and Rosie sensed an opening. She leaped off the sofa and jammed her father’s brass letter opener into the soft flesh just below his ribcage. The German stumbled forwards and collapsed on to the suitcase. Mr Clarke grabbed his arm and twisted the gun out of his hand.

‘Rosie, grab the briefcase,’ Mr Clarke ordered, tightening the German’s arm behind his back.

Once the case was out of the way, Mr Clarke pressed the gun into the German’s left shoulder blade and shot him. After passing through the German’s torso, the bullet hit the single column supporting the table, tearing out a chunk of wood and making it snap. As the German hit the rug, Clarke stepped back with the gun at arm’s length and fired a second shot into his temple.

‘One in the heart, one in the head,’ Clarke explained as he picked up the far corner of the rug and threw it over the German’s body. Then he looked up at Rosie and tried to smile. ‘That was fantastic, sweetheart. You saved our bacon.’

But Rosie had tears in her eyes and Paul held on to the cushion as if his life depended on it. Nothing in their lives so far had prepared them for blood, brains and two dead bodies in their living room.

‘What’s going on, Dad?’ Rosie sobbed, as she shook her head with disbelief. ‘What just happened?’

‘I’ll explain in the car,’ Mr Clarke said stiffly. He didn’t want to sound so harsh, but he didn’t know how else to deal with the situation. ‘You both trust me, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘You know I wouldn’t have killed a man unless I really had to?’

Rosie nodded, but Paul remained mute, his lips turning slightly blue.

‘Snap out of it, son,’ Mr Clarke said, as he snatched the cushion from Paul and shook him by the shoulders.