And I needed John. Not only for his sweet self, but because he knew the answers to certain vital questions. How far had the corruption spread? How many people were in on the scheme? One reason why I was reluctant to appeal to the police, or the SSI, was that I felt certain some of them must be involved. The man I had met in Larry’s office, who had insisted on the conveniently anonymous appellation of Achmet, had to be in Larry’s pay. The purpose of that interview was clear to me now; it had been intended to get me off the case and convince me there was no need to contact anyone else.

Until I spotted Max I hadn’t been certain Larry was involved. They could have done the job without his knowledge, though it would have been difficult. But Larry had lied about how long his secretary had been with him. A year ago Max had been in a Swedish prison. Larry had pulled the necessary strings and gotten him out when he was needed. It’s terrifying, the amount of power money can wield. All the complex aspects of the plot had been made easier by Larry’s influence and wealth. He probably owned the Queen of the Nile – and the crew and the captain, and the engineer who had dutifully demolished the refrigeration machinery. And Jean-Louis and Feisal. It wasn’t fair. Everybody was on Larry’s side. Except John, who was, as usual, on his own side. Not entirely, though; not any longer. I didn’t dare think about his reasons for defying the others, or the price he would probably have to pay. I didn’t dare think about a lot of things. If I did, the defences I had built up over the years would crumble and fall, and I couldn’t afford that kind of weakness now.

As I approached the side entrance I heard voices. The movers were working late, but one look told me this clever idea wasn’t going to work a second time. The man who stood by the open door watching them pass in and out was wearing European clothes. Though darkness was not yet complete, the floodlights illumining the entrance had been turned on, enabling him to see their faces clearly. They also enabled me to see his features clearly. I had known him as Bright. I had a hunch that wasn’t his real name.

The floodlights served me as well, half-blinding him to anything that was going on outside their glare. I sidled through the landscaping until I reached the terrace. As I crawled on hands and knees in the dubious shelter of the low walls, one of my sandals fell off. Instead of replacing it I kicked the other one off. Once I was inside the house, bare feet would be quieter and quicker than those clumsy sandals.