Silva lowered her head to the sight and peered through. Karen Hope stood to one side of the terrace with her brother slightly in front of her. The old man with the glasses hovered near a stone wall at the edge, while a teenage girl filmed the action on the water with a phone. Then a man stepped over to Karen. He wore a red and white checked headcloth and had a thick moustache. Alongside him stood a woman in her mid-thirties and a young girl of nineteen or twenty. Both wore loose hijabs, but the younger woman kept her eyes down, demure, subservient.

‘It’s Jawad al Haddad.’ Gavin strode across to the monitor and peered at the screen. ‘We weren’t expecting him.’

‘Does it change anything?’ Silva said.

‘No.’

‘Who are the women?’

‘His wives, Lashirah and Deema.’

‘Wives?’

‘Lashirah is a minor member of the royal family, a real princess. Deema – the young girl – is Haddad’s brother’s wife. The brother died and, as is the custom, Haddad stepped in.’

‘I bet he did.’

‘Here we go,’ Itchy said as a whoosh came from out on the water. A firework climbed into the sky, a solitary missile leaving behind a white trail and bursting into a succession of stars, each of the stars themselves exploding until the sky was filled with glittering flame. The display had begun.

Other people moved out onto the terrace. More of the Hope family’s friends and acquaintances. Silva recognised the actress she’d seen at the gallery opening in London and there was a man she thought might have been an Italian politician. Their faces were lit up as the sky above turned red, blue and green. Bang after bang. Fizz after fizz. Rockets soared into the sky and cascades of fire poured down.

The crowd of people shifted to the edge of the terrace for a better view, but in doing so they obscured Silva’s own view of Karen Hope. She was now only visible intermittently behind the heads and shoulders of the guests.

‘You seeing this, Itchy?’ Silva said.

‘Patience. Plenty of time.’

Silva blinked. She kept the rifle steady. No point in chasing Hope back and forth until there was a chance of a clean shot.

A cough came from behind her. Gavin. ‘Don’t worry, these people get bored easily. In a couple of minutes they’ll drift back inside looking for another drink. They’re more interested in networking and gossip than a few fireworks.’

‘Right. But what about Hope?’

‘The Hopes will stay out and watch to the end. It’s a tradition. You’ll see.’