They began a conversation in French that Alex could not follow, beyond realizing from their gestures that the subject swiftly switched from the apparently excellent wine to the car. Albert muttered and gesticulated at the vehicle while the old man squinted and hummed, kicked tires, and asked the odd question. Finally, Alex’s grandfather gestured toward the springs on the ground.

“Et l’autre?”

“C’est chez Harry,” Albert said. The Frenchman produced the oil again, holding it up for inspection, then handed it over, along with a set of car keys, sealing the transaction with a formal crack of bony knuckles.

Alex’s grandfather stood regarding the springs on the ground. With an air of resignation, he nodded and gave Albert a sad smile. Albert laid a consoling hand on his shoulder. The old man pushed the oilcan into his Gladstone, then tossed it inside the car, followed by Alex’s rucksack.

“Alex, we’re off.”

There came another round of hugs, followed by another scattering of cats as Albert hauled the main gate squealing open and Alex’s grandfather nosed the car into the street. The engine purred impatiently while he sat for a moment making sure the coast was clear, then they were moving fast.

“Albert’s a little on the lugubrious side,” the old man said, “but he’s done a marvelous job here.” The Citroën hummed happily as they swung onto a busy road. Alex’s grandfather flexed his fingers around the steering wheel as if loosening a cramp. “Harry’ll be over the moon when he sees this car. Although I’m sure he’ll find something to complain about.”

“Did you say we’re going to Harry’s office?” Alex said.

“That’s right. Need to collect something. I want to check his place over before we head off, anyway. I’m hoping he might have left something useful lying around. Good at keeping notes, is Harry, and he’d made discoveries in recent days.” The old man frowned flatly. “Although it might have been better for him if he hadn’t.”

VII.

DON’T

It was dark by the time they made it to central Paris and the terrace by the river where Harry kept an office. Streetlights flickered on as the old man drove slowly toward the door. He rolled past it without glancing around, pulling in some way down the block.

Alex unclipped his seat belt and reached for the door as the engine cut out. A hand on his arm stopped him.

“Not yet,” his grandfather said. He adjusted his rearview mirror and sat back, watching it. “Thought I saw something. Harry’s window.”