There was momentary silence while Carter took this in. He was cornered but he wasn’t throwing in the towel yet. Amazingly he came back for another go. ‘Ah, no, listen – she was a real car crash. She really was getting into all kinds of shit—’

‘Look, Dean. Let me stop you there before you make me want to hurt you even more badly than I already do. I’m giving you a chance to make a clean breast of things, but badmouthing Beth is only going to make me want to snap every bone in your pathetic, cowardly little body. She trusted you to look after her. And instead you had her killed.’

‘Look, I’m not gonna sit here and listen to any more of this shit.’

Tom loomed over him and put the muzzle of the suppressor next to his left eye.

‘“The Contact Agent can provide physical and psychological support, can be available in times of danger . . . at any sign of danger the Under Cover Agent is extracted.” That’s straight from the FBI Career Guide, Dean. That means it’s your job. Maybe you need to go on a refresher course.’

At the words ‘refresher course’, Carter looked truly frightened.

‘The FBI Career Guide also says that only one under-cover agent has ever been killed on duty in the Bureau’s entire history, which I find hard to believe, and now you’ve doubled that. So, Dean, let’s discuss what leads an agent with an unremarkable record like yours to resort to having his own colleagues murdered. Let’s start with some names, shall we? Zuabi, Fortress, Stutz.’

‘I’m not – I can’t—’

‘You are and you can. This –’ he indicated the weapon ‘– says you don’t have a choice. Zuabi, Fortress, Stutz. Come on, join up the dots.’

At the mention of the names again, Carter’s expression changed. His face was starting to glisten, as were his eyes, which were opened very wide, as if something was pushing his eyeballs out from behind. When he spoke again, his voice had gone up an octave and came out as a childish whine. ‘You think I can walk out of here if I tell you what I know? You have no idea what you’re dealing with, fella. No idea!’

‘Enlighten me.’

Carter breathed deeply, as if he was trying to compose himself, as if whatever he was about to do there was no going back.

‘Zuabi doesn’t know zip about Stutz or Fortress, okay? Not a thing. He thinks his finance comes from the Saudis. He’s just the conduit to his people.’

‘What people?’

‘Sleepers.’

Carter was panting hard, hyper-ventilating. ‘I gotta get some air.’

Tom nodded. Carter struggled to his feet, a hand against the wall for support. His face was as red as a traffic-light. Tom kept his weapon trained on him as he felt his way to the balcony window.