‘Oh, pack it in,’ Malcolm tuts. ‘They’re back. We’ve got all three now . . . it doesn’t matter if Roland is here or not. Let them sort it from—’

A tourist turns to smile at Konrad and Malcolm from the corner at the junction. His tourist guide and map clutched in his hands and his face showing the confused, harassed look of someone lost in a strange city.

‘Er . . . do you speak English?’ the tourist asks clearly and slowly with hope in his eyes that someone might be able to communicate with him.

Malcolm grins. ‘You’re a bit lucky, mate,’ he chuckles. ‘You lost?’

‘You’re English!’ the tourist says with evident relief. ‘I have no idea where I am . . . apparently this building should be a museum,’ he adds, looking at the building on the corner.

‘Let’s have a look,’ Malcolm says, nodding at the map. ‘Where you trying to find?’

‘Gentlemen, say a word and you die right here,’ Alpha says, showing them the pistol held under the map. The genial look vanishes in a second. His eyes dart between the two stunned men.

‘Just stay still,’ Bravo says almost politely, walking briskly towards them with his own squat black pistol held partly concealed.

Men come in from all sides. All of them dressed in normal civilian clothing. Malcolm flinches. His heart jack-hammering in his chest. Konrad spins, seeing the net closing in.

‘Don’t move,’ Alpha says calmly.

‘Easy, mate,’ Malcolm says, rushing the words out.

‘Mistake,’ Konrad blurts. ‘Seriously . . . don’t do this . . .’

‘Shush,’ Bravo whispers, moving to stand behind Malcolm. Echo moves behind Konrad. Alpha holds his pistol under the map, staring at them both with interest.

‘Mate,’ Malcolm says. ‘Don’t . . . you don’t know who they are . . .’

‘They’ll fucking kill you . . . all of you . . .’ Konrad adds in a rush.

‘Do as we say and you live. Understood?’ Alpha says, his tone calm, his manner relaxed. All five men are relaxed and calm.

‘No.’ Malcolm grimaces at having to argue. ‘Don’t do it . . .’

‘Listen to him,’ Konrad urges. ‘You won’t get a—’ He stops speaking with a gasp as the ultrathin point of a stiletto blade sinks a millimetre into the flesh of his right thigh.

‘Not another word,’ Bravo mutters, holding the blade while apparently trying to see between them to the map being held by the tourist. ‘The blue light. Is it the device?’

‘Shit.’ Malcolm sags on the spot. His eyes closing as he realises what is happening.

‘Is the device the blue light?’ Alpha asks.

‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ Konrad says, steeling himself as the stiletto sinks another millimetre into his thigh. They both breathe fast with panic rising in their chests and tight balls of fear forming in their guts that twist and flip.

‘Now gentlemen, you can see we are serious,’ Alpha says, smiling benignly. ‘Is the blue light the device?’