‘Where downstairs?’

‘I don’t know,’ said the captain. ‘He left just before you got here. Who are you?’

Gannon turned to Shepherd and nodded for him to go downstairs.

‘Who are you?’ asked the captain. ‘Americans?’

Gannon grinned at him. ‘If we were Yanks half our men would have been hit by friendly fire.’

‘You are SAS?’

‘Just do as you’re told, Captain, and you’ll be fine.’

‘I am just a seaman, doing my job.’

‘You can argue that with the DEA when we get to port,’ said Gannon, ‘but if you make a move to dump any of your cargo I’ll personally tie you to an anchor and throw you in after it.’

Shepherd headed for the stairs. The mess was still empty so he went to the canteen. The eight tied Colombians were struggling in vain to get loose.

Their Kalashnikovs had been piled on the table. Shepherd frowned. An SAS trooper was supposed to have been standing guard over them. He pushed the door open. The trooper was lying on the floor, face down.

Shepherd cursed. He stepped out of the canteen and felt the cold barrel of a gun press against his neck. ‘You couldn’t leave well alone,’ said Carpenter.

‘It’s over, Gerry.’

‘Drop your weapon.’

‘I can’t. It’s on a sling.’

‘Let go of it.’

Shepherd let the MP5 slide through his fingers. It swung loose on its webbing.

‘You’re my ticket out of here, Shepherd. Again.’

‘They won’t wear that, Gerry. This is officially sanctioned. The government wants you back. The Americans want the boat.’

Shepherd raised his hands and turned slowly. Carpenter stepped away from him. He was holding a blood-smeared Kalashnikov. ‘You’re not taking me in,’ said Carpenter.

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Gannon. He was standing in the middle of the mess room, his MP5 aimed at Carpenter’s chest.

‘I’m not going back to prison,’ said Carpenter.

‘That’s your call,’ said Gannon.

As Carpenter looked across at Gannon, Shepherd took hold of his MP5 and slid his finger on to the trigger.

‘I want off this boat,’ said Carpenter.

‘That’s what we’re here for,’ said Shepherd.

Carpenter looked back at Shepherd. ‘You’re not taking me back. You were there. You’ve seen what it’s like. I can’t take twenty years.’

‘If you can’t do the time . . .’

‘Fuck that!’ said Carpenter.

‘No one forced you to do what you did,’ said Shepherd. ‘You made choices every step of the way. You dealt drugs, you had Jonathon Elliott killed, you had Rathbone and Yates killed, you tried to kill Sandy Roper, you kidnapped my son. Did I forget anything?’ He frowned. ‘Oh, yeah, you tried to shoot me.’

‘I should have done it when I had the chance,’ said Carpenter.