‘You know forecasts, but probably warm. Low to mid-twenties in the evening. Humidity around sixty-five per cent. Air pressure something like one thousand and fifteen millibars.’

‘Sounds perfect.’

‘It needs to be.’ Itchy shook his head and looked at the satellite image. He traced his finger from one side of the bay to the other. ‘It’s one hell of a shot. The bullet’s going to be arcing down like the end of a rainbow by the time it reaches Hope. Be a drop of something like ten metres. And if you’ve only got one chance…’

‘We’d best get out and practise, then,’ Silva said. ‘Come on.’

They hiked up to the trail Gavin had pointed out, leaving the rifle behind but taking stakes, a steel target board and the GPS. They set up a firing position on top of the ridge and selected a suitable target location across a small valley. Navigating their way down through the thick macchia and up the other side was almost impossible, and by the time they got to the top Silva was scratched all over. She pulled out a water bottle from her sack and took a long draught while Itchy wandered around taking GPS readings.

‘Here,’ he said, scuffing the ground with his foot. ‘One-two-two-nine with a twenty-metre difference in elevation. We should be able to simulate the shot perfectly aside from the barometrics. We can adjust for that later.’

‘I’d half forgotten all this stuff. Didn’t think I’d ever be using it again.’

They rigged the steel plate, stuck a paper target to it and headed off back down the valley and up the other side. Itchy took some more GPS readings to double check and they returned to the lodge for lunch.

After they’d eaten, Itchy cleared away the plates.

‘You ready?’ he said. ‘For the serious business?’

Silva nodded, but in truth she felt far from ready. The last time she’d fired a weapon it had ended in tragedy and now all of a sudden the reality of the situation struck her. She was planning to kill Karen Hope, but Hope wasn’t a soldier belonging to an opposing force. She was a civilian. She was guilty of a horrendous crime, but shouldn’t any punishment be legally sanctioned by a court of law?

‘Silvi?’ Itchy stood beside her. ‘She killed your mother.’

‘Yes.’ Silva nodded. ‘You’re right. Let’s do it.’