“They’ve got privacy glass in the back. Can’t say if there’s anyone else.”

Hicks was hiding in the vegetation near to the car park that López had proposed for the swap. Chase was over the road behind a hedge that fringed a warehouse complex. Neither man was armed, but that wasn’t why they were there. Milton didn’t think that López would double-cross him. They were there to follow his men back into the city. Milton had plans for the Mexican’s business once he had dealt with those who delivered him his orders.

“Where are you?” Chase said.

“On the bridge,” Milton said. “Hold position.”

Earlier, Ziggy had asked whether Milton thought that Chase was capable of handling what would be required of him. Milton said that he was confident that he would be. Beau Baxter’s son had been a Marine, and Milton knew that another person who could handle himself would be useful. There was also the matter of his very personal motivation. Milton didn’t add that he still felt guilty for what had happened to Chase’s father. The old man had been murdered by the sicario who had been sent to clean up the mess that had been caused by the Russos. Beau would not have been put into a vulnerable position if Milton had not asked for his help. Milton knew that he was asking Hicks and Ziggy for their help, too, but both men had worked with him before and were able to make calculated decisions on the level of exposure that they were prepared to countenance. Hicks could look after himself, and Milton would make sure that the impetuous Ziggy—always keen to impress—didn’t do anything that might put him in the firing line. And, more to the point, Milton had offered them a quarter of a million each from the Russos’ haul to help. Chase was different. Milton didn’t know him, and, while he would do his best to keep him safe, the American was his own man and he was capable of making his own decisions. Milton was not about to patronise him.

Milton reached the other end of the bridge, approached the exit for the museum and flicked the indicator to turn off to the left.

“Ready?” he said.

“Ready,” Hicks reported. “I’ll need them distracted for ten seconds.”

“I can do that. Just be careful.”

“I’ve done this before,” Hicks hissed.

Milton saw the Range Rover. It was parked with its front facing out, the running lights casting a wash of white into the empty space. He decided not to park directly alongside and instead chose a space fifty feet away. He slowed the car and brought it to a halt.

He opened the door and stepped out into the cold, damp night.

11