Kyle’s answers were getting more cryptic. This had better be worth it.

Twenty minutes later they were bouncing down a pot-holed road. Lights from a few single-storey homes set back in the trees provided the only illumination. While Tom drove, Kyle was bent over an iPad, studying the latest feeds from Lederer’s surveillance.

‘Nothing to suggest he’s with anyone. He’s busy with his phone and laptop. No other signals coming out of that location.’

‘Any dogs?’

Kyle shook his head. ‘Don’t need none. He’s handy with his weapons and this is Texas.’

As soon as the trailers came into view Tom slowed to walking pace. They were spaced quite far apart, some with chain-link fences around them, cars and vans parked nearby. Music and TV sounds spilled out of them and merged together.

‘Which one?’

Kyle pointed. It was painted yellow, an awning on one side under which was parked an ancient pick-up. The fence around it was higher than the others and the gate was shut but not, they hoped, locked. The blinds were down and the door was closed.

‘We’ll go on foot from here.’

Tom turned the van so it was facing the way out. They agreed that since they couldn’t get eyes on Jefferson inside the trailer they would have to lure him out: Kyle up front, Tom covering from the other side of the fence.

Tom rammed the mag into the pistol grip until he heard it clip home, and racked the top slide, letting it return under its own power: it would pick up the top round from the mag and ram it into the chamber. To make sure, he pulled back gently on the top slide until he could see the brass case in the ejection opening. The last thing anyone wanted to hear was the dead man’s click when firing. ‘I’ll take a shot at the wing mirror on the pick-up: that should generate enough of the right kind of sound to bring him out. You hang in that shadow to the left of the door. It’s the hinge side so you should see him before he sees you.’

Kyle nodded. ‘We don’t have to worry about being interrupted. Neighbourhood like this, they hear a gunshot, last thing they’re gonna do is call the cops. They keep their heads down.’

They moved together up to the gate. Tom lifted it silently and moved it enough for Kyle to get through. Tom skirted the fence so he had a clear shot at the pick-up and the trailer door from a shadow under one of the trees. When Kyle was in position, he signalled.

Tom aimed at the mirror and fired. A dull phut from the suppressor was followed by a tinkle of splintering glass.

A light came on inside the trailer, then went off. Thirty seconds passed.