‘Ah, now that’s the smart bit. The money is switched to the Lear – we can use the passengers to help with that – and then we have a really cute trick. When the boys take over LH713, they’ll send out a Mayday call just before they take her down below the radar. That way, everyone thinks she’s crashed. But after we’ve taken the money off her, Philips flies her off again in a big circle back to San Martin. Did you know he’s a real good parachutist?’

‘No,’ I said tonelessly.

‘Made over four hundred jumps. It’s the way he gets his kicks. Anyway, he reckons he can crash that plane right in San Martin harbour. He’ll get out, of course, and we’ll have a boat waiting for him.’ She waved her finger at me. ‘So that, friend, is going to cause one hell of a lot of confusion. Here’s a plane that’s supposed to have crashed at sea, which suddenly comes back and crashes at San Martin. Everybody and his uncle are going to get their goddamn wires crossed and nobody is going to know what to think.’

She made a swooping motion with her hand. ‘In the confusion, we take off from here in Salton’s plane. That will crash too, but only when the money’s safe. Good, huh?’

I licked dry lips. ‘Very.’ I didn’t ask her where the passengers would be when LH713 crashed in San Martin harbour. I was afraid to hear the answer.

I heard a popping noise and Bette cocked her head on one side. The light was quite dim but I could see a boat coming across the lagoon. ‘Not long now,’ she said.

I glanced sideways at Leotta. I didn’t know if she’d seen me take the gun from Negrini’s body. She could have seen and I hoped she had. If I had to shoot, then everyone would have to move fast. I looked at Bette and contemplated taking a chance before the reinforcement arrived but one glance at the steady muzzle pointing unwaveringly at my sternum changed my mind. There was no way I would beat Annie Oakley the Second.

‘Don’t we need a babysitter any more?’ I asked.

She shrugged. ‘You’re no danger to us now. There’s nothing you could do to stop us. Not this late in the game.’

The boat came up to the quay and the engine stopped. Presently a young man walked past the window, glanced down at Negrini’s body, and then moved on. He came into the room. ‘Okay, Bette,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’

He was wearing a shirt, shorts and sandals, very tanned and with the callouses on his knees that only come from hundreds of hours on a surfboard. A typical beach bum.