The man in the suit now said something in rapid Italian to the Carabinieri sergeant, who nodded and then stepped forward to retrieve the red backpack. As he did this, Angus, who happened to be looking in the right direction, saw a young man watching from a corner of the hall. It was clear from his expression that he was thoroughly dismayed and, as the officer retrieved the pack, he began to move towards the door.

‘Excuse me,’ said Angus, tugging the sleeve of the man in the suit. ‘That young man over there …’

The man looked round, saw what was happening, and gave a sharp instruction to the Carabinieri officer. The officer, dropping the backpack, reacted quickly. Drawing a pistol from the white leather pouch attached to his gleaming Sam Browne belt, he shouted out at the young man, who froze where he was.

Domenica and Antonia watched it all unfurl. The young man, seeing the approach of the Carabinieri officer, dived for the door, but was not quick enough, and the door was locked anyway. There was further shouting and a certain amount of confusion among the passengers, who saw the gun being drawn and immediately assumed that a terrorist had chosen this moment to detonate the bomb that would immediately add them all to the morbid statistics of the unending and seemingly unendable conflict. But there was no explosion, and no shot either. The young man simply folded up, and was quickly dragged away by several other Carabinieri officers, who had suddenly materialised in the baggage hall.

Over the confusing hour that followed, Angus and his companions were given an insight into the extraordinarily quick and efficient operations of the Italian security forces. They were all led into a room at the back. ‘You are only witnesses,’ explained the man in the suit. ‘You are not suspects. Please do not think that we suspect you of anything …’ He paused, and looked at each of them in turn. ‘That is, unless you have anything to hide.’

‘We have nothing at all to hide,’ said Angus, who had emerged as spokesman for all three of them. ‘We are simply here on holiday.’

‘Of course,’ said the man. ‘And we have much to thank you for.’ He signalled to a colleague, who left the room briefly and returned with a large white package.

‘You can guess what this is,’ said the man.

Angus raised an eyebrow. ‘Drugs? Cocaine?’

‘Exactly,’ said the man. ‘It was in that backpack. Not very expertly concealed, but had it not been for your dog, well, I doubt if we would have found it.’ He looked down at Cyril, who was sitting at Angus’s feet. ‘Such a dog is truly remarkable. Do you know that in Italy we have special orders for people who do good service to the state?’