Hunter felt a tightening in his arms and shoulders and chest muscles. That last pill on the plane might have been a symptom of his immaturity, but now that he was about to die, he really-really got it and was truly-truly sorry and promised that, if he was allowed to survive, he would never do it again. Fuck, this was not part of the plan. Raoul was used to finding plenty of empty bottles and a whole lot of incriminating drug paraphernalia, and he was paid enough to keep quiet about it, but a corpse would definitely test his discretion and loyalty beyond breaking point. As he fell sideways in the direction of his jacket, Hunter started to imagine the disastrous newspaper coverage: Apocalypse at Apocalypse Now. Trusted family butler, Raoul Dominguez, commented, ‘Señor Sterling, may he rest in peace, was a truly great man, but I tell you, when it came to narcotics, the guy was like a pig in a trough.’

Hunter forced the rigid muscles to inch his right arm towards his jacket. His hand, which intermittently convulsed into an agonising, clutching claw, finally insinuated itself into the breast pocket. He could feel his chest growing more constricted and a pain climbing up his left arm and he knew that he was about to be cut down by a well-deserved heart attack. With a final gesture of defiance, he worked the pill box out of the pocket and managed to press the little button on its side. The lid sprung open and he tipped the contents on to the sofa. Scattered among the multicoloured pills were the two round pink pills he needed, maximum strength beta blockers that might bring his muscles and his hypertension under control. Normally, one would be enough to handle a hostile cross-examination for crimes against humanity on prime-time television, but this was an emergency and so he pushed both into his mouth and ground them up with his teeth to accelerate the effect. He then lay motionless, making frantic deals with fate to negotiate his survival. He must get Jade to clear his schedule and book him into his favourite room at Nuova Vita Ranch. No more pills and powders – at least no more stimulants; natural sleep was a rumour he refused to believe in – and when he got out, gallons of herbal tea and fresh vegetable juice, with only a little alcohol on special occasions.