As he watched, the cop down in the hold lifted up a shiny aluminium drum to pass to his colleague. It was obviously heavy. The second cop passed it along to a third, and the fourth set it down on the shingle next to the boat hull. Ben counted eight drums, with more to come. They looked like brewer’s beer kegs. Except as he and Roth both knew, what was inside them wasn’t beer.

‘And there’s our fentanyl,’ Ben muttered. ‘All nine tons of it, with any luck.’

Roth smiled one of his shark smiles. ‘It won’t be long before the cops figure out they’ve just made the largest drugs haul in history. As for Nazim, his bosses won’t be too pleased with him that he’s lost their merchandise. Looks like we derailed their plans, big time.’ He frowned. ‘The only question is, where’d the sonofabitch go?’

The remaining two cops weren’t at the boat. Ben scanned across to observe them. That was when he saw the unmistakable dark shapes on the beach and knew he was looking at dead bodies. Three of them. One lay curled up among the rocks about thirty metres from the boat, the other two a little way further up the beach. The binocs didn’t magnify enough to give much detail, but Ben was able to make out that two of the dead were Caucasian males, not old, maybe in their twenties. One of the gendarmes was examining the third body, which belonged to a dead African guy, lying face-up with his head thrown back and a beard like a bird’s nest jutting into the air. Lying on the shingle next to the corpse was a firearm with the unmistakable shape of an AK-47. A short distance away, the other cop was busy setting up a row of cones from the chopper and stretching police tape to cordon off the scene.

A moment later came the chorus of approaching sirens. The officers on the beach turned to look, and Ben scanned the binoculars across to see four police cars and two ambulances bouncing down the track towards them. Reinforcements had arrived. And now Ben decided he’d seen enough. He lowered the binoculars and turned to face Roth.

‘Okay,’ he said to the American. ‘Explanation time. Let’s have it. The whole truth, right now.’

‘You should be happy, man. The cops have the dope. Nazim’s getting his butt kicked big-time and we’re winning on points. Fortune’s on our side. What’s to explain?’

‘Not good enough, Tyler. I’m getting tired of your bullshit and secrecy. First you’re going to tell me what the hell happened here. Then you’re going to tell me how you knew, and who you really are.’