‘I was hoping you might be able to shed light on where al-Kassar hangs out these days.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘You were Delta.’

‘And you were SAS.’

‘I’ve been out a long time,’ Ben said. ‘I left the regiment under a cloud, and they don’t forget that. Whatever contacts I once had are old and stale. Whereas you were the golden boy. I don’t believe they didn’t give you ultra-top-level clearance after you brought them Abu Anas al-Libi. Not to mention the haul of secret ISIL plans from the Deir Azzar raid.’

Roth gave a wry smile. ‘Been checking up on me, huh?’

‘Hearing rumours through the grapevine is one thing. Being able to go and knock on doors is another. Don’t tell me you don’t have a toe in the water. Maybe more than one.’

Roth made a noncommittal gesture. ‘I do know people. And those people might know something.’

‘Will you ask them?’

Roth said nothing for a long moment. Then, ‘You must be hungry. Let’s eat.’

Chapter 33

Ben sensed that he’d pushed as hard as he could for now. To be resumed. The night was young and it didn’t look as though he was going anywhere as the storm kept building outside.

Roth hit the kitchen with vigour, clattering pots and pans and whistling loudly to himself. Before long the mouth-watering aroma of grilled fish began to permeate the house, and a few minutes later he emerged carrying a tray with two heaped plates on it. ‘Red snapper with lemon and okra,’ he announced proudly. ‘Can’t visit Savana Island without tasting some real Caribbean chow. You want to grab us some vino from the refrigerator?’

The wine was a California Pinot Grigio. Ben pulled a face when he saw it, but he was prepared to put aside his prejudices. They sat down at a small table to eat. Roth uncorked the bottle and poured brimming glasses with relish.

‘You’re quite the chef,’ Ben said, tasting the fish. The wine was surprisingly good, too, and chilled to perfection.

‘Try some of the escovitch sauce,’ Roth said. ‘Look out for the Scotch Bonnet slices, though. They kick some serious ass, but I can’t resist ’em.’

‘Scotch Bonnets I can handle,’ Ben said. He chewed the end off one and it was like swallowing a white phosphorus grenade mid-blast. Roth seemed to enjoy watching him struggle with it.