Amanda’s eyes slid towards the shotgun, and then back to Trouillot himself. ‘We saw some signs of trouble on the way here. Had any cause to use that thing yet?’

Trouillot shook his head. ‘Fortunately, no. But I’ve seen an awful lot of people heading north up the highway, and I’ve also heard word of a lot of looters coming the other way.’ His gaze flicked over to the TriView, and back. ‘I’ll have to admit, when you called, Mr Fowler, I got to wondering if you’d found some place safe from all this crap.’

‘None that I know of.’ Fowler shrugged apologetically. ‘I just have some unfinished business out in the Far East, that’s all. I’d . . . prefer to pay with paper, if I may.’

Fowler hoped he’d judged Trouillot right. It would be a mistake to automatically assume everyone operating a plane in Florida was involved in smuggling, but that didn’t mean a substantial number of them weren’t.

Trouillot gave them both an appraising look. ‘Like that, is it?’

Fowler waited, saying nothing.

Trouillot sighed and held a hand up. ‘Fine. It’s not like anyone’s much in the mood for fishing these days, anyway. Let’s see what kind of notes you’ve got.’

Fowler reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a single roll, noticing the way Trouillot’s eyes widened when he saw how thick it was. He peeled a number of notes off and handed them over.

Trouillot thumbed through the notes, then his eyes followed the remainder of the roll as Thomas stuffed it back in his pocket. ‘That’s a hell of a lot of money to be carrying around like that,’ he observed.

‘Enough for a down-payment on another sub-orb,’ replied Fowler. ‘But the rest of this is for you, if you can get us to where we want to go.’

Trouillot’s eyes flicked back to the screen, his expression becoming troubled. ‘Sounds good. Assuming I ever get the chance to spend it, that is.’

They took off less than an hour later, after Trouillot had run a routine systems check on one of the sub-orbs, and primed its engines. The craft shuddered violently, once its primary boosters kicked in at ten thousand metres, the sudden surge of power crushing the three of them back against their seats until Fowler could feel the metal frame of the acceleration couch pressing through its thick padding and into his spine. But just a few seconds later he felt his weight rapidly fall away, signalling that they were close to the apex of a long arc that would carry them halfway around the globe.

Amanda unbuckled herself from her acceleration couch and pushed herself over to the nearest window, while Trouillot, seated forward in the cockpit, continued talking to someone back on the ground. Semi-transparent weather maps and data feeds slid across the windscreen in front of him.