She moved towards the front door, but as she passed the open door of one of the bedrooms she saw the Irishman through the window, heading in the opposite direction. He was following the footsteps she’d left in the snow, leading to the back door. He was limping, but still he was moving fast.

She turned round and headed back past the kitchen, glimpsing Caldwell, still leaning against the range. As she approached the back door and the broken window beside it, a shadow fell across the smashed pane. She couldn’t see the Irishman, but she felt sure he was there. Then she saw the door handle turn and the woodwork strain against the lock.

She raised the shotgun, wondering if she should fire now, hoping to hit her target on the other side of the door. But she had no spare cartridges. There’d be no chance to reload if she missed. She had to wait until she had a clear shot.

Suddenly, there were several deafening cracks. The Irishman was firing into the door. The wood splintered around the lock. Then the whole lock mechanism was blasted off, crashing to the floor as the door sagged open.

Wada heaved the gun up against her shoulder, aware the barrel was shaking as she held it. Her fingers trembled around the triggers. She heard the Irishman kick the door. It flew wide open. She saw his face, twisted with fury. And she saw the gun in his hand, the gun he’d used to kill George Guptill.

She fired, both barrels.

But all she hit was wood. The door had struck the wall behind it so violently it had bounced back across her line of fire.

Then he was in and on her. The shotgun was wrenched from her grasp and flung aside. He shoved her against the wall and clapped the barrel of his gun to her temple. ‘Where is Caldwell?’ he demanded in Japanese.

She couldn’t speak at first. All she could register was the brutality in his eyes and the cold, heavy pressure of the gun barrel against her skin.

‘Where is Caldwell?’

She mustered her thoughts and forced out an answer, in English, so that Caldwell would understand. ‘Caldwell is not here.’

‘You are lying. You came here because you knew this was where he was hiding.’

‘There is no one else in the house.’ It was strange to confront her own stubbornness. It was the only weapon she had at her disposal.

‘Tell me where he is.’

‘I do not know where he is.’