This wasn’t about the Land Rover. Rickard had planned to kill Wetherby and his goons the instant he’d called the man. After he killed Alisha, he was going to disappear, and Wetherby was the only living person who could lead the cops to him. He couldn’t leave behind any loose threads if he was to set himself up in another part of the country.

He shot the first man in the heart, just beneath his folded arms, and in the same movement swung on the man with the broken arm. The guy shrieked in panic, trying to get at the gun in his jacket but impeded by the cast. Rickard fired once and the bullet struck the man’s left cheek. Blood and brain matter puffed in the dusty air behind him. Both men collapsed at the same time, one to each side of Rickard’s extended arm. A little over two seconds was all that had elapsed between Rickard drawing the handgun and both men lying dead in the road.

In those couple of seconds Wetherby knew the truth, but his reaction wasn’t to fight back. Fear struck him and gave him the false sense that he could outrace a bullet. He set off running along the road, kicking up dirt.

Rickard shook his head at the man’s cowardice. He lifted the gun and aimed, firing a single round.

Wetherby slapped a hand down hard on his right buttock. It did nothing to stop the damage caused by the bullet. His leg gave under him and he spun to the ground, screaming in pain. He rolled over on his back, eyes wide as he watched Rickard walk calmly toward him. Finally he went for the gun clipped in a snap-holster on his hip.

Rickard stamped on his elbow, pinning his arm to the ground. He pulled loose Wetherby’s gun. It was a stainless-steel revolver, six-shot, an old-timer’s weapon.

“Please.” The word came out as a long whine.

“The truth now, Ken.” Rickard stepped off his elbow. “You told Hunter how to find me.”

“I didn’t . . .”

“The truth, I said.”

“He must have figured it out himself.”

Rickard shook his head slowly. He leaned down so he was staring deeply into Wetherby’s face. “You were at the center of this, Ken. It was you who fed Jimena Grajales the information on Hunter and his team and who directed my movements on her behalf. You’re the only person who knew the connection between me and Gutierrez, and with Jimena. Hunter didn’t just turn up at Cesar Calle’s place by chance: someone gave him the tip-off.”

“Why would I do that? I wanted him dead as much as Jimena did.”