I veered right and plunged us into the maze of narrow roads that riddled the Left Bank district, turning and twisting past brightly lit bars and brothels until I was absolutely certain no headlights were following us. Finally, in a mean passageway with only two streetlamps still functioning, the beam of my headlights picked out a small brick archway and I drove through it with relief. It opened into a courtyard, cobwebbed with iron staircases and a row of lock-up garages. I cut the lights, jumped out of the car and unlocked one of the garage doors. Before André could blink, I’d reversed the car in and locked the doors behind us.

At last my head grew quiet. The grind and growl inside it ceased, and the blood flowed back to my fingertips.

*

We sat in the car, André and I, in silence, just the ticking of the engine as it cooled. The darkness was solid and smothering, sticking to my skin.

‘What is this place?’ André asked. ‘How do you know about it?’

‘It belongs to the father of a friend of mine whom I met while I’ve been working in the detective agency here. You know that I know Paris streets backwards, all the alleyways and backstreets that my work takes me to. Normally he stores bicycles here, probably stolen ones, I suspect. But he let me borrow it because he’s in prison at the moment.’

‘Why would you want to borrow it?’ He shifted round to peer at me in the gloomy interior.

‘In case I ever need a safe place.’

He smiled. ‘That’s good thinking, Eloïse.’

His praise mattered to me more than I let him see. ‘And what were those chasers after?’ I asked.

‘Me, of course.’

‘Why?’

‘Oh, Eloïse, the less you know, the safer it is for you. You know that’s how it is. I’m sorry.’ He squeezed my hand hard. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For protecting me in your safe hideout.’

‘I don’t want thanks. I want information.’

‘My little sister, will you never give up?’ But he laughed.

No, I don’t give up. When you are raised in a family of tough men and tougher bulls, you learn not to give up. I’m not that kind of person.

I had kept him safe, hadn’t I?

How was I to know what waited outside?

CHAPTER TWO

I heard André’s breath in the darkness, slipping in and out of his broad chest. Slow. Unhurried. As if we were not cooped up in this garage, rank with rat droppings. As if we were not hiding from men with thick necks and names like Volkov and Zazlavsky.