An hour later they were back on the motorway with a load of food and several bottles of water. The girl on the till had looked at Holm with some suspicion as he’d piled up a huge selection of snacks on a tray. ‘English,’ Holm said, and the girl had nodded as if that provided an explanation for just about any kind of deviant behaviour.

They travelled south, the Swiss mountains looming ahead. Holm began to feel uneasy. Where the hell was Kowlowski going? Javed sat with a European road atlas open on his lap. His forefinger ranged the page as he studied the map intently.

‘Italy,’ he said.

Silva woke to the smell of fresh bread and coffee and the sound of a rap on the door.

‘Colazione.’ Gavin’s voice floated in. ‘Breakfast.’

Silva blinked. A harsh light sliced through the window shutters and painted bands of gold on the wooden floor. She rose from the bed and walked across and opened the shutters. The view was incredible. Below, a turquoise sea shimmered in a breeze, dozens of boats bobbing on a gentle swell. To her right, cliffs soared above the town, layers of houses beneath stepping down to the beach like some sort of lopsided wedding cake. Away from the dense cluster of apartments and hotels, individual villas dotted precipitous slopes that climbed to a blue sky, a wisp of cloud caressing the clifftops. Then she blinked and her eyes were drawn across to the far side of the town and the green house with the terrace, and she remembered the reason she’d come to Positano. Her heart sank and she trudged back into the room.

Breakfast was leisurely and Gavin chatted about his time with Fairchild. He, like Silva and Itchy, was ex-military, but navy rather than army.

‘Logistics,’ he said. ‘That’s why Mr Fairchild took me on.’

‘What about Lona?’ Silva said.

Lona had eaten quickly and disappeared into town on what she said was a reconnaissance mission; even so, Gavin lowered his voice.

‘She’s new. I only met her a few weeks ago. She’s cool, very assured, but I have no idea what her background is.’

‘Do you trust her?’

Gavin reached for his cup of coffee. He took a sip. ‘Not really, but I trust Fairchild.’