“Juan, you are just going to have to trust me on this one. I have found something, but it’s too sketchy to share with anyone yet. Not you or the team, and not even the chief. A lot of people have died already, and I want to be very careful that I’m not responsible for more deaths. The good news is we have now recovered all the contents that were stolen in the raid. The bank will be happy and so will the box owners. I want you to front a press conference later today explaining we will now begin a process where the owners are reunited with their possessions.”

Torres had worked with Vargas for over three years and had total trust in his boss’s judgement. “Okay, chief, but the press are still chasing for answers on the killings of the three robbers, especially the sniper shooting.”

“That may be, but, for now, we won’t contradict the speculation about two rival gangs falling out over the robbery.”

Torres nodded and walked across the office towards the door. “And, Juan, I’ve got an old friend from Los Angeles arriving in town tonight. He’s spending a short time over here, so I’m going to take a couple of days’ leave. Obviously, if anything new comes up, let me know straight away.”

Torres found it highly suspicious that Vargas would even contemplate taking time off at such a moment, but made no comment.

* * *

Bianchi finished her last meeting of the day at just after six. She said her goodbyes to the commander of the department with whom she’d discussed two internal disputes that had been rumbling for a while. She made her way along the main corridor towards the exit but at the last moment veered off to enter the ladies’ toilet. Inside was a run of six cubicles and she promptly walked to the one at the far end of the cloakroom. Now, she had a long wait.

* * *

Vargas was leaning against a stone pillar outside the giant Starbucks in the arrivals terminal at Ezeiza International Airport when he spotted the unmistakable face of Troy Hembury exit a set of electric doors, wheeling a small red suitcase. His sculpted features were set off by a thick mop of black hair and penetrating brown eyes, which combined to striking effect. He spotted Vargas at just about the same time and a huge smile broke out on his face.

A few minutes later, the two detectives were sitting side by side in Vargas’s Peugeot, heading into the city.

“Nic, I’d love to take a look at some of those old photos. Not to mention Adolf Hitler’s Iron Cross. Where are you storing everything?”

“For now, it’s all secure in a safe in my office but I took quite a few pictures on my phone, so when we get back to my place we can run through them.”

“Who else knows?”