De Payns casually scanned the bar and looked out the window, where a couple of Japanese kids climbed on the deck rail of the ferry only to be slapped off by their mother.

Lambardi cleared his throat. ‘The reason I ask, Alain, is that, as you know, my next traveller—’

‘And his friends,’ de Payns interjected.

‘And his friends,’ agreed Lambardi, ‘don’t look European, so the Croatian cards …’

De Payns smiled. The Croatian ID cards were top-shelf forgeries, accepted at any EU port. But de Payns had something better for the Italian.

‘I took the liberty,’ said de Payns. ‘The package waiting for me in Palermo includes five French passports.’

Lambardi paused, doubtful.

De Payns leaned in. ‘I’m serious. Your clients can land in Paris as French citizens.’

De Payns was playing on greed. The fees Lambardi could charge for the passports would override paranoia. And paranoia was relevant—AQIM was not an outfit to double-cross. But while greed would get Lambardi on the hook, coercion would be how they’d reel him in. When it came time to perform the devoilement—the moment when a target is told that he now works for Paris—Lambardi had to be right where the French secret services wanted him. He had to be shitting himself. When de Payns’ team had photographs and video of Lambardi receiving those passports and selling them to AQIM, the Italian would have nowhere to turn. He’d be scared of going to prison in Italy, but even more scared of what the terrorists would do if they saw those pictures.

Lambardi turned his attention to his smartphone, stood and weaved to the toilet. De Payns crossed his legs and poured his beer into the carpet beside his right ankle. He had to stay sharp. As he inveigled his way further into Lambardi’s life, he had expected Sayef Albar security to emerge. He assumed those two Turks in the bar were watching him. They had probably staked out de Payns’ office, a serviced space two blocks back from Palermo’s harbour, although he hadn’t yet detected a tail when he took a room in one of the scores of private hotels in Old Palermo. There were so many ten-room hotels in the city that he could dodge the tails by hopping from one to another, if he was careful. And Alec de Payns was careful like a cat.