Salvatore swore and took a swing at Zoltan. The Magyar easily dodged it and hit Salvatore hard with the back of his hand. For the third time Salvatore ended up lying in the road. His face was battered and streaked with blood, but Zoltan stood calm and relaxed. He pulled the Italian to his feet and looked at him.

‘Do you understand now?’ he asked.

There was still a dim glow of defiance in Salvatore’s eyes. He feebly raised a fist and Zoltan hit him again. The blow was so powerful it whipped Salvatore’s head back and he spun away into the arms of one of his friends.

‘Stand him back up,’ said Zoltan.

‘Stop it,’ Amy screamed from the back of the truck. ‘Stop it. Can’t you see he’s had enough?’

Zoltan turned to face her and at that moment Salvatore’s friend pulled a knife from his belt.

Zoltan saw Amy react and turned back again, reaching inside his tunic. By the time he was facing the Sardinian his Beretta was in his hand and levelled at the man’s head.

‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘Try me. I will shoot you three times between the eyes before your body hits the ground.’

The fight went out of the Sardinian and he dropped his knife.

Zoltan looked at Salvatore. He was barely conscious. ‘Get that sack of horse manure in one of the vehicles and let’s get moving,’ said Zoltan, and he glanced at Amy before jumping on to his horse and riding back to the front of the convoy.

The rest of the journey passed without incident. Amy sat in the back of the truck, staring out as the road unwound behind them, too numb to know what to think any more.

They left the coast behind and climbed up into the heart of the island, passing through the town of Nuoro, before veering southward towards the Gennargentu Mountains.

As darkness fell they arrived at their destination: a large, man-made cavern at the foot of a mountain. It was lit by harsh, yellow lights and the smell of oil hung in the air. There were more trucks parked here and various large pieces of rusting machinery.

Zoltan’s crew unloaded the crates on to what looked like miniature train wagons and Amy saw a narrow track disappearing down a tunnel cut into the rock wall.

Once the cargo was safely loaded, Zoltan helped Amy and Grace on board before climbing in beside them with Tree-Trunk and a couple of his men.

‘It is a mining car,’ Zoltan explained. ‘To bring the ore out of the mountain.’

There was a jolt and the car moved forward into darkness.

The tunnel snaked up through the inside of the mountain, lit here and there by flickering lamps. At regular intervals they passed other tunnels going off into the shadows on either side and everywhere were piles of seemingly abandoned tools and equipment.