Seconds later, the bomb exploded, hurling them both back across the deck.

2

KEVIN RAFFERTY had switched on the For Hire sign the moment he saw Martinez step out of his house on Eaton Square. His orders couldn’t have been clearer. If the client attempted to make a run for it, he was to assume he had no intention of making the second payment owed for the bombing of the Buckingham, and should be punished accordingly.

The original order had been sanctioned by the area commander of the IRA in Belfast. The only modification the area commander had agreed to was that Kevin could select which of Don Pedro Martinez’s two sons should be eliminated. However, as both Diego and Luis had already fled to Argentina, and clearly had no intention of returning to England, Don Pedro himself was the only candidate available for the chauffeur’s particular version of Russian roulette.

“Heathrow,” said Martinez as he climbed into the taxi. Rafferty drove out of Eaton Square and headed down Sloane Street in the direction of Battersea Bridge, ignoring the noisy protests coming from behind him. At four in the morning, with rain still pelting down, he only passed a dozen cars before he crossed the bridge. A few minutes later he pulled up outside a deserted warehouse in Lambeth. Once he was certain there was no one around, he jumped out of the taxi, quickly undid the rusty padlock on the building’s outer door, and drove inside. He swung the cab around, ready for a fast getaway once the job had been completed.

Rafferty bolted the door and switched on the naked, dust-covered lightbulb that hung from a beam in the center of the room. He removed a gun from an inside pocket before returning to the taxi. Although he was half Martinez’s age, and twice as fit as he had ever been, he couldn’t afford to take any risks. When a man thinks he’s about to die, the adrenalin begins to pump and he can become superhuman in a final effort to survive. Besides, Rafferty suspected this wasn’t the first time Martinez had faced the possibility of death. But this time it was no longer going to be simply a possibility.

He opened the back door of the taxi and waved the gun at Martinez to indicate that he should get out.

“This is the money I was bringing to you,” Martinez insisted, holding up the bag.

“Hoping to catch me at Heathrow, were you?” If it was the full amount, Rafferty knew he would have no choice but to spare his life. “Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds?”

“No, but there’s over twenty-three thousand. Just a down payment, you understand. The rest is back at the house, so if we head back—”

The chauffeur knew that the house in Eaton Square, along with Martinez’s other assets, had been repossessed by the bank. Martinez had clearly hoped to make it to the airport before the IRA discovered he had no intention of fulfilling his side of the bargain.