He can’t have slept more than a couple of hours when he feels Yassim stroking his hair. In the darkness of the bedroom he can only make out Yassim’s profile and that he’s holding a finger to his lips. Carefully he bends over Jacob and whispers in his ear: ‘Put on your clothes as quietly as you can and come with me.’

Jacob’s eyes adjust to the darkness, and he can see Yassim is already dressed.

He obeys without making a sound, rolls over on his side, puts his feet on the floor, grabs his underwear, shirt and trousers.

Barefoot, they sneak across the concrete floor, open and close the door to the apartment soundlessly. Yassim pulls him away from the elevator and towards the stairs. His lips tight against Jacob’s ear. ‘Like ghosts,’ he whispers and smiles quickly.

Then they’re down in the garage again and Jacob sees three yellow taxis waiting by the ramp that leads up to the street. ‘What’s this?’ he says.

But Yassim doesn’t slow, just pulls him into one of the cars. The cabin smells like smoke and old plastic.

‘Lie down,’ Yassim says, gently pushing his head down onto the seat and sinking down beside him.

The cars start rolling up the ramp.

‘The people watching us can’t follow all three,’ Yassim says. ‘And they don’t know which one we’re in. I’ve arranged for the two other cars to take off in different directions.’

Jacob says nothing, just feels the warm vinyl against his cheek. Slowly they roll along the still almost empty streets.

‘Now…’ Yassim says finally, patting him on his shoulder. ‘I think we’re ok.’

Jacob sits up and looks at him, at his tired face, the tiny wrinkles around his eyes. Yassim has his large black backpack on his knee.

‘Are you leaving already?’ he whispers. Fatigue is pounding at his temples. What did he think? That they’d have a few more hours, a few days?

Rays of morning sun stream in through the dirty taxi windows, shining on the worn vinyl between them. Yassim puts a fist on the seat between their thighs and turns to him.

‘I can’t take the risk,’ he says. ‘Not after yesterday. After Paris. Even if we avoid the worst of their attention and maybe even managed to make them think you’re playing along. It’s too dangerous.’

He lifts his hand from the seat and opens it. Jacob sees that there’s a small, flat memory card in his palm, like from inside a camera.

‘Everything we have,’ he says. ‘All the information we collected.’ He puts the memory card into Jacob’s hand and closes his fingers around it. ‘Are you sure? You know you can still pull out.’

Jacob nods. He has never been surer of anything in his life. ‘I’m sure.’