‘Not quite sure how you’re going to get hold of your target’s helmet,’ laughed the chief instructor, who was not easy to impress, ‘but I like the concept. Well done.’

These days Fred West was working security for an oil company in southern Iraq on a four-week rotation, and spent his off weeks chasing women and gambling in the casinos of London, Macau and Vegas. A poker fanatic, and a born optimist, he was convinced that one day the cards would make him rich.

Carr was happy with his team.

They just needed a plan.

Chapter 62.

62.

AT AROUND 4 P.M., some one hundred and fifty miles eastsouth-east of Skelton’s house in Longtown, Zeff Mahsoud stood and watched with flat eyes and a blank expression as the woman in the latex gloves went painstakingly through the contents of his suitcase.

It had been brought to this room in the distant, empty parts of the airport, and was presently open on the floor to Mahsoud’s right.

Across the table, the woman’s colleague was flicking through his passport.

Both were wearing the uniforms of HM Customs – or the Borders Agency, or the UK Visas and Immigration Service, or whatever they were called this week – but if he’d been a betting man then Mahsoud would have put a significant amount of money on the pair of them being mid-level spooks.

‘So tell me again the purpose of your visit to Tunis, sir?’ said the male.

The female was looking quizzically at a black rucksack – a bag inside a bag? What was that about? – and shaking her head slightly. She put it down and picked up a training shoe, jamming her gloved hand down inside it, feeling for something.

Anything.

‘I have many friends over there,’ said Mahsoud. ‘I do a lot of charitable work in the area and I have recently been unable to visit.’ He smiled blandly. ‘I am sure that you know why. But I have been cleared of any and all charges, and the judges were unambiguous: I have the absolute right to travel anywhere in the world that takes my fancy, the same as any other British citizen.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said the man, evenly. ‘As I say, this is just a routine interview.’ He looked away, back at the passport. ‘You’ve mentioned this court case already. I have to say, I don’t know anything about that. It’s just pot luck, who gets pulled out. We talk to people randomly.’

‘Of course it is,’ said Mahsoud, his expression serene. ‘Totally random.’

‘And tell me who you’ll be staying with?’

‘I have already told you. I will be staying at the Golden Tulip hotel, on the Avenue Ouled Hafouz.’

‘So who will you be meeting?’

‘Friends.’

‘Can you tell me their names?’

‘Mohammed. Hassan. Roger.’

‘Roger?’

‘No, sorry. I forgot. Not Roger. Roger can’t make it.’

The spook tried and just failed to hide his irritation.

Mahsoud beamed at him.