Arles is one of the oldest and loveliest towns in all France, bristling with ancient Roman architecture and medieval stone walls that rob you of all sense of scale. They have been here forever and will be here for another forever, its creamy timeworn houses huddled on top of each other like old friends. The streets are narrow, no wider than you can spit, so that they can cosset every scrap of shade during the humid summer when the sun can suck the life out of your skin, if you give it the chance.

But at this time of night the town was quiet. The milky river mist was seeping up around the amphitheatre, and in the pavement café the last drinkers were murmuring in low voices and watching the town cats sneak through the darkness in search of scraps. I tracked the Chevy past the black bulk of the monolithic town walls and eventually into the Boulevard des Lices, one of the wider thoroughfares that divide the new town from the old. I kept a shield of three cars between me and the big American saloon at all times as we trailed through the town.

I was careful. So careful. I was acutely aware of how my last car chase had ended.

Marianne asked, ‘Where’s he off to?’

‘He’s heading into the old town. That car is so wide it will have to crawl.’ I took a risk and swung right too. Already I could see his brake lights on, gleaming red as he edged his way into the Place de la République.

‘Listen to me, Marianne. At this hour I reckon he’s heading for his hotel.’ I pulled my 2CV up on to a pavement and tucked it tight against a wall, out of reach of the square’s streetlamps. ‘In these tight streets, I can run faster than he can drive. Wait here for me.’ I leaned over, kissed her cheek and opened my door.

‘No, Eloïse. I don’t know who this guy is or what you want with him, but I don’t want you to—’

‘Lock your door,’ I said, and climbed out of the car. From my bag I removed the gun. I placed it on the driver’s seat. ‘That’s the safety catch,’ I pointed out. ‘If anyone tries to get in the car, shoot them.’

She stared at me, appalled.

‘It’s okay,’ I whispered. ‘No one will come.’

I closed the driver’s door and locked it. From outside I watched her pick up the gun.

*