James had to find out who the scarred man was and what he was up to. He made a snap decision. Somehow he was going to follow him up to the palazzo.

The car was stopped inside a wooden shed, which was partially open along one side to let the passengers on and off. If he could get inside the shed he might be able to get on to the roof of the car without being seen.

He spotted a concrete gulley coming out through an opening in the end of the shed and running off down a slope into a drain. He remembered from before how a water tank beneath the car was emptied when it stopped. The drain was only protected by a wire fence. It might be a way in.

Moving in a low crouch, and keeping the shed between himself and the guards, James approached the fence. As soon as he was there, he dropped to the ground and was just thin enough to squeeze under it on his belly, then he crawled quickly along the ground and rolled into the gulley.

He waited a moment to find out if he had been seen.

Nothing.

He wormed his way along the gulley towards the shed. In a moment he was through the opening in the bottom of the shed and inside.

There was the railway car, with water dripping from underneath it. He wriggled forward a few more feet.

Suddenly, he heard a metallic thunk and a rushing sound.

The tank was being emptied.

As a wall of water hit him and washed him back down the gulley he spotted an iron bar above his head and managed to grab on to it. He hung on for dear life as the swirling deluge of water buffeted him and pulled at him, trying to tear him loose.

The water had woken him up, but he had to summon every reserve of strength and determination not to let go.

As fast as it had come, the torrent stopped and he hauled himself out on to the floor of the shed, soaked and half-drowned.

But he couldn’t rest.

If the tank had been emptied it meant that the car would soon be moving off.

He stood up. All his pain forgotten. He could see the men in the car, chatting and smoking, but it was too dark for them to see him. Moving fast he climbed a pile of packing crates in the corner and managed to reach up to one of the cross beams that supported the roof. He pulled himself up and, using a second beam as a walkway, he scurried along it until he was directly over the car.

There were shouts from below.

‘Come on, Smiler, hurry up.’

‘We’re leaving. Get on board!’

James saw the scarred man approach the car and toss his cigarette to one side before getting on.

Smiler. So that was his name. Well, it made sense.