‘Oooh yes, let’s!’ Itchy rubbed his hands and moved across. He stopped next to the case, made a bowing gesture, and swept his arm to one side. ‘I mean, after you, of course.’

They shifted the case to the low coffee table and Silva clicked open the catches and opened the lid.

‘Perfect!’ Itchy peered in at the weapon encased in foam. ‘Our trusty old L115A3.’

The weapon was identical to the rifle Silva had used in the army. Bolt action with a five-shot magazine firing .338 rounds. Also in the case was a telescopic sight and a suppressor to minimise sound and muzzle flash.

‘There are better, but I’m used to it. No point trying something new.’

‘This is a one-shot mission, right?’ Itchy said as Silva ran her fingers over the gun’s stock. ‘No second chances.’

‘There’s going to be a firework display, so a miss might not be noticed. But if I hit her with a non-killing shot it’s unlikely I’ll get another one in.’ Even as she spoke there was a small part of her that recoiled at the clinical way she’d said the words.

‘We’d better make sure you don’t miss, then.’ Itchy walked over to the dining table where he’d laid out maps and satellite imagery. ‘Do some practice at the exact distance and get some information into the DOPE book. You ready for that, Silvi?’

‘Yes, I guess.’ She turned to Itchy. He was head down over the documents, working on the numbers. She knew this was black and white for him. Hope had been complicit in the deaths of innocent people and was guilty as charged. All that remained was to carry out the sentence.

The DOPE book was the data of previous engagements, a data reference specific to each individual weapon. Since Silva had never fired this particular rifle, the book was empty. Only by firing the weapon multiple times in different conditions could they work out how to set up the rifle and scope.

Itchy continued to pore over the maps and the pictures, and within a few minutes he had the distance and elevation figures for Positano.

‘Fairchild chose good,’ Itchy said, pointing down at the map. ‘One thousand, two hundred and twenty-nine metres is my best guess until we get in on the ground. I don’t know if he knew what he was doing but there’s a height difference of just twenty metres and perfect line of sight, albeit it at an acute angle. Should make doing the ballistic calcs a doddle. We’ve just got to hope a sirocco doesn’t blow up from the south. Pushing against the cliffs it would cause one hell of an updraught. Accuracy would go out the window.’

‘What would I do without you?’

‘Miss.’ Itchy laughed. ‘Then again, I’ve got to do something for the money, right?’

‘Aside from the wind, what will the weather be like?’