It was just after nine in the evening when Vargas and Hembury scaled the back wall of the El Negus estate. Vargas positioned the spare wheel, which he’d taken from the boot of the hire car, against the base of the wall and used it as a prop to stand on and gain leverage. Hembury followed and, within seconds, they were both inside the sprawling grounds. Vargas led the way towards the rear of the property.

“It’s weird, Troy, but there’s absolutely no sign of an alarm system inside the grounds.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case or our friend with the AK47 might suddenly pop up to welcome us.”

A couple of minutes later, they were standing on a large wooden rear porch and working out the best means of entry. There was a pair of double doors that were firmly locked, flanked either side by large casement windows. Vargas held the barrel of his Beretta against one of the square glass panels and glanced at Hembury, who nodded his approval. He smashed the gun against the window and the glass immediately shattered. Both men ran back into the bushes and waited to see if the noise aroused a response. They held their position for two minutes, but there was no sign of activity from inside the house. Vargas stealthily led the way back onto the porch, eased his hand through the new opening and smoothly released the window catch. Moments later, both men were standing inside what appeared to be a large kitchen breakfast area.

Hembury flicked on a small LED torch and panned it around the room in order to get their bearings. It lit up the doorway into the hall and as they made their way towards it, Vargas’s arm brushed against a large white circular box positioned on the corner of the oak kitchen table. He cursed as he failed to prevent it toppling onto the tiled floor. Hembury tilted the torchlight downwards and focused on the remnants of a chocolate birthday cake. Although it had broken into pieces, the main section was still intact and the white icing on top clearly spelled out three lines, “Happy Birthday, Valentina, One Hundred”.

As they moved into the massive hallway, Hembury was able to switch off the torch as four sets of wall lights had been left on, providing an eerie illumination. Two other doors led off the hall, but Vargas made straight for the imposing staircase that also benefitted from low-level lighting. The wall to the side of the stairs was covered with Renaissance artwork and Hembury stopped on one of the treads to examine a striking painting of the Madonna cradling the baby Jesus in her arms.

“Nic, I’m no art historian but even I’ve heard of Botticelli.”

Vargas had also stopped on the staircase and was examining a different artwork. “I can trump you with a self-portrait by Titian.”