The girl from MI6 was nude next to him, lying on her front, her face turned to look at him.

Her eyes were wide.

‘Everything alright?’ she said. ‘You were twisting and turning like a mad thing.’

‘Just a dream,’ said Carr.

‘Oh?’ she said.

‘Someone was about to get clipped,’ he said, with a yawn. ‘Fucked if I know who.’

Arabella Barnes said nothing.

Carr put a hand out and slapped her bottom, watching it wobble slightly.

‘Ouch, you cheeky so-and-so,’ she said, with a grin. ‘Didn’t you get enough of that last night?’

‘This might be the last arse I see,’ said Carr.

‘Really?’

‘Last I see today, anyway.’

She lifted herself up onto her elbows and looked at him through half-closed eyes. ‘Well, I hope it’s satisfactory.’

‘It’s more than satisfactory.’

‘What are you actually here for?’ she said.

‘London didn’t tell you?’

‘They told me the basics – the stuff I had to know. But the mission itself… No.’

Carr just looked at the curve of her hip.

‘I mean, I assume you’re SAS?’ said Arabella.

‘It must be those ruggedly handsome good looks and charm I was talking about,’ said Carr. ‘Though that doesn’t explain Geordie.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re just the four scariest bastards I’ve seen since I joined the service. And you’re covered in Parachute Regiment tattoos and obviously dreaming about killing people.’

Carr looked at her for a moment.

Then he said, ‘You’re young, but you’ve been around long enough to know what you don’t need to know. Loose lips sink ships, and all that bollocks.’

‘Yes,’ said Arabella. ‘I suppose so.’

She turned her head away to face the wall.

‘Be careful, won’t you?’ she said. ‘I’d like to give you your passport back in person, not send it home in a brown envelope to your wife.’

Carr smiled at her blatant fishing.

‘I’m a hard man to kill,’ he said. ‘Plenty have tried, but they only got one go. Plus, I havenae got a wife. And I’m not looking for one.’

She said nothing.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’m not coming back out through Tunis. You’ll have to post it back via your people at Six.’

She turned back to look at him.

‘Or I could deliver it in person,’ she said. ‘Next time I’m in London. I have some leave due.’

He smiled, and looked at his watch.

Five-thirty.

He reached out and gently slapped her backside again.

‘You’ll get more out of me if you stroke it,’ she said.

Later, after she’d gone off to work, he showered and dried himself thoroughly, and then sat on the bed, almost meditating.

Thinking about the job ahead.

At just after 8 a.m., he left, carrying nothing except for two hundred US dollars in the pocket of his trousers, and leaving nothing behind.