‘Follow me.’

He led her a little further along the passage and turned into a large, low-ceilinged kitchen. It looked out to the rear of the house, across climbing, snow-covered ground. The sink, the range, the dresser and the table and stools belonged to a bygone age, maybe a century past. There was nothing modern or labour-saving to be seen. The light was thin, falling on well-worn flagstones and dust-laden surfaces.

Caldwell propped the shotgun in the corner. ‘Does anyone know you’re here?’ he asked. It seemed to her she could read fear in his eyes as he posed the question.

‘I came with a friend.’

‘Where’s this friend now?’

Wada took a deep breath. Should she tell him what had happened? There was no way of predicting how he might react. But if she didn’t tell him … ‘He’s dead. Shot.’

‘What?’

‘We were followed.’

Caldwell stiffened apprehensively. ‘Who by?’

‘I do not know his name. But he is Japanese, I think.’

‘Where’s he now?’

‘I reversed the car into him.’

‘You killed him?’

‘I think so. I hope so.’

‘But maybe not?’

‘I do not know for certain. I could not take the risk of stopping to check.’

‘Do you know anything about him?’

‘He was at your flat in Exeter last week. I suspect he works for Hiroji Nishizaki.’

Caldwell closed his eyes for an instant. ‘You’ve led the Irishman straight to me,’ he said dolefully.

‘He is not Irish, Mr Caldwell.’

‘It’s what they call him.’

‘And if he is dead—’

‘But what if he isn’t?’ Caldwell’s eyes were open again. He was glaring accusingly at her. ‘I was supposed to be safe here.’

‘Do you have a phone that works?’

‘No.’

‘It was heavy contact. At speed. Even if he is not dead, he will be seriously injured, I think.’

‘You think?’

‘And therefore unable to—’

They both heard it at the same time: a car, engine roaring, approaching fast. They looked at each other in horror. It could only be the Irishman. Not dead. And not giving up.

‘Mr Caldwell, I—’

‘We’re as good as dead. You understand that, don’t you?’ Caldwell glared at her. ‘If only you hadn’t interfered.’

There was a final roar of the engine, then silence. Caldwell made no move towards the gun. He slumped back against the rail of the range. It was as if he’d lost all hope.

Wada didn’t wait for him to rediscover any. She grabbed the gun. As she did so, a car door slammed outside.

The weapon was surprisingly heavy and she couldn’t really imagine using it. But she was going to have to start imagining. And soon. She looked at Caldwell, but he was simply staring into space. Whatever she was going to do, she was going to have to do it alone. She hurried out into the passage.