The stink of ashes followed us all the way across town. Not far from the Hotel du Mauna Loa stood Government House – a grand name for a small, nondescript office building that had been the island’s former seat of government. Bramnik and Mayer used it as a base, and it was also the location of the commissary, where the Pathfinders got their regular rations of basic household supplies. As at the base compound, a line of jeeps were kept outside, fuelled and ready for the taking.

Every now and then, as we walked, another jeep packed with Patriots would go racing past us, and at one point we observed a couple of agents using a handheld battering ram to smash down the front door of a house. I wondered if they’d do the same to my place, and felt queasy at the thought of them picking through my stuff.

When we got to Government House, I was less than surprised to discover that everything on four wheels had already been appropriated. I was beginning to think we were going to have to walk the whole way to the medical facility.

‘Over there,’ said Chloe, pointing towards a pair of ramshackle bicycles with half-rusted chains leaning against a wall. I laughed at the sight of them, remembering when I had pedalled through the night with Rozalia not so very long ago.

‘Better than nothing,’ I said, starting forward.

We cycled the rest of the way to the base compound, the bicycles rattling and squeaking so loudly I fully expected one or both of them to crumble beneath us. My satchel, weighed down by the oilskin-wrapped package within, banged against my knees the whole way.

I had been half-afraid we might find Major Howes’ troops gone once we reached the compound, replaced by whey-faced Patriot agents in dark suits. I was relieved to see instead a single ordinary trooper standing guard at the compound entrance, and he waved us through without question. We left our bikes leaning against the wall of the barracks before making for the hospital building.

Inside, we found two nurses and a single doctor I vaguely recognized from my brief incarceration there. Once we explained we wanted to visit Wallace, they looked less than delighted. The doctor, in particular, looked as if he wanted to spit.

‘I don’t know what your friend did to piss off those agents so badly,’ said a nurse, her voice full of outrage, ‘but that’s no way to treat a man in that state, whatever they think he’s done.’

I looked at Chloe, then back at the nurse. ‘What did they do to him?’

The doctor replied instead, his mouth set in a thin, angry line. ‘All you need to know is, right after they went in to talk to him, he started screaming. What do you want with him, exactly?’