There was no going back, Carlos knew. That had been the deal. If he had succeeded he would have had a sanctuary for the rest of his life, no matter what the international pressure. But if he failed, there was to be no link to his paymasters. In return for his silence, his family would be allowed to stay in their home. Carlos had made sure that whatever happened there was enough money in their overseas bank accounts to ensure that Magdalena and their children would never want for anything. Ahead of him he saw the blue vastness of the Atlantic Ocean, the sky above it beginning to darken as the sun dipped down below the horizon.

Carlos relaxed as he flew over the water. He’d given it his best shot. He had done nothing to be ashamed of. He looked down at the white tips of the waves some four thousand feet below him. A man could hide for a long time under the water, he thought. Maybe for ever. He opened the briefcase and took out the P228. He unscrewed the silencer and tossed it into the rear of the plane. There would be nobody around to hear the shot. He took his left hand off the control yolk and pressed the barrel of the gun to his right temple.

“Magdalena, I love you,” he whispered.

The doctor put the finishing touches to the dressings and stepped back to admire his handiwork. “You’re a very lucky man, Special Agent Howard,” he said.

“I don’t feel particularly lucky, Doc,” Howard replied.

The doctor removed his rubber gloves and tossed them into a trash bag. “If the bullet hadn’t glanced off your shoulder blade, and if it had exited downwards and not upwards, you wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

Howard was sitting on the edge of a hospital cot, stripped to the waist. He tried to stand but the doctor shook his head and held up his hand, Indian-greeting style, and told him to stay put. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You need at least a day in bed.”

“I want to go home,” said Howard.

“I gather home is in Phoenix, and you’re in no fit state to be flying. You stay put, and that’s an order.”

“But my wife . . .” Howard began,

“. . . is waiting outside,” finished the doctor. He nodded to a nurse who left the room and came back a few minutes later with Lisa.

Lisa Howard rushed over to the cot, went to hug her husband, then held herself back as she saw the dressings. “I won’t break,” Howard said quietly and she grinned and reached for him. There were tears in her eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked in amazement.