She gave the rifle a final check and grabbed a box of cartridges. They spent the next few minutes loading several magazines and firing a few close-range shots in the field at the front of the lodge in order to zero the sights. Then they hiked back up the side of the mountain. Itchy set up his spotting scope and pulled out his phone. He opened his ballistics app and shielded the screen from the glare as he began to input various figures. Silva eased herself down and tried to get comfortable with the rifle as she lay on the rough ground. She bent to the scope and tried to acquire the target.

‘It’s a long way,’ she said. ‘I can’t see much.’

‘Follow the treeline until you get to the vertical rock face. Go up a little and you’re there.’

‘Got it.’ The target didn’t exactly spring into view – the circles were tiny – but at least she could see the thing. ‘I hope this is going to be a lot easier when we get to Positano.’

Itchy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he began to give her some figures to dial into the scope. She clicked the dials round.

‘All good,’ Itchy said, bending to the spotting scope. ‘Send when ready.’

Silva took several deep breaths and held steady. Did no more than caress the trigger.

A crack came from the rifle and Itchy was speaking long before the retort echoed back at them off the facing ridge. Silva noted the puff of dust fly out from the rocks above the target.

‘You’re two metres up and around thirty centimetres right.’

Silva made another adjustment to the scope and settled again.

Crack. A puff of dust.

Itchy gave her more instructions.

Crack. Dust. Crack. Dust.

Silva let off another shot and changed the magazine. Several more shots followed until a ping came back at them from the ridge.

‘Shot. You hit the plate.’

Another adjustment.

Crack. Ping.

And another.

Crack. Ping.

Finally, after a dozen more rounds, Itchy peered through his spotting scope. ‘Nice. That last one was almost dead centre. Let’s try some groupings now.’

With the scope adjusted, Silva shot through the rest of the magazines until they were out of ammunition.

‘You haven’t lost it, Silvi,’ Itchy said. ‘Those groupings. Tight as ever you were. The army must have been crazy to get rid of you.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘I just did.’ Itchy grinned. ‘Come on. If we hike across to the target now, I can stick a new one up ready for tomorrow. Means I can have a lie-in.’

Silva pushed herself up from the ground and dusted herself off. She picked up the rifle and stared across to the far ridge. Positano at night was going to be a very different proposition.