I was suddenly overwhelmed by the certainty that Joel was searching for a gun hidden in the boot with the intention of returning to my car and putting a bullet in me. No one would hear anything. Not in this torrential rain. He’d drive my car back out into the flooded marshes and abandon my body out there for the wild boar to find.

No. I told myself that was the panic talking. Out of control. The darkness and the rain were getting inside my head and the loss of André was pushing me over the edge. Joel was a decent person, even though he was handing information over to the enemy. Don’t lose your grip, not now when André’s life was at stake. I snatched up my shoulder bag, pulled up my oilskin hood and raced over to Joel’s car, splashing through puddles. When I reached his Chrysler through the dense curtain of rain he stopped rummaging in the boot and straightened up.

‘I can’t find the damn thing,’ he shouted over the drumming on the metal roof. ‘I’m looking for a map.’

A map? I experienced a rush of relief and felt foolish. Of course, a map to the safe house.

He stood back, ducking away from the rain. Before I could turn and run back to my car, his strong arms swept me right off my feet and threw me sideways into the boot. I screamed and shouted and kicked out viciously, but the thunder came again, rolling down the valley with a vengeance just as a hand wrenched my bag from my shoulder and slammed down the boot lid.

My world turned black.

*

Fear spread itself out in the cramped dark boot. It took up nearly all the space, leaving little room for me. I kicked and screamed. I called down the fires of hell on Joel Dirke’s head. I smashed my fists against the metal cage until they were raw, but it got me nowhere and drove out my power to think.

So I went quiet. My limbs ceased their thrashing. I forced my lungs to breathe deeply. Be silent. Be still. Be clever.

I curled in a ball but he was driving fast, so I was thrown back and forth. I banged my head when the car streaked over a pothole. A sharp bend in the road slammed my shoulder against a metal ridge. I was shaken. Juddered. Jarred. Jolted till my bones felt as if they were disconnecting.

But slowly, slowly, my mind started to function again. One by one small facts slotted into place.

Fact 1: I had pegged Joel for an information-carrier, that’s all. Passing documents from one person to another. I was wrong. He was dangerous.

Fact 2: the road was uneven and winding. So it was not the route to Serriac or Arles.