‘Well, we’d better hurry, then.’ Itchy moved to the balcony door and cracked it an inch. There was a percussive chop chop chop. ‘They’ve already got a helicopter up.’

‘How the—?’ Silva said.

‘Naples,’ Gavin said. ‘It’s just over the ridge. Probably no less than five minutes’ flight time.’

For a second nobody moved. Then, as one, they jumped into action. Silva began to disassemble the rifle, removing the bipod and putting the weapon in its case. Itchy was dealing with the AV equipment and other items, while Gavin sorted out the rest of the kit. Within ten minutes they had everything down in the courtyard.

‘If the police come knocking now, we’re stuffed,’ Silva said. ‘Red-handed is the word.’

‘Fingers crossed, then,’ Gavin said. He disappeared down the steps and five minutes later he had the van idling outside. ‘Come on!’

Silva and Itchy didn’t need any encouragement. They grabbed their stuff and piled it into the back of the van. The helicopter was still out there, hovering high above the sea, a searchlight picking out the motor boats and yachts. On the water a police patrol craft sped between the boats while an ever-increasing cacophony of sirens echoed through the town.

They climbed up into the van and Gavin pulled away.

‘We’ll take the back way out of here,’ he said as he turned a sharp right and then left, zigzagging up and away from the main road. ‘You’ve seen the coastal route. Even if the police don’t put a roadblock in, it’ll be gridlock as the news of the shooting spreads.’

The lane narrowed to barely the width of the van as it cut under the huge cliffs that loomed over the town. Gavin flicked the lights off so they were driving on sidelights only. To the right the terrain fell away precipitously. Somewhere down there was the main road and below that the sea. The van bounced as it hit a small bolder and for a second the steering wheel was spinning freely. Then Gavin grabbed hold and wrenched it round. Silva closed her eyes.

When she opened them the horizon lurched one way and the other before they crested a rise and were on a flat road high above the town and the sea.

‘Thank God,’ Itchy said as Gavin turned the lights back on. ‘That was worse than being in the lead vehicle on a patrol in Helmand Province.’

‘Back to the lodge?’ Silva said.

‘No.’ Gavin stared through the windscreen into the darkness. ‘I’ve got specific instructions. We’re to rendezvous with Lona near Salerno. Then we’ll drive north to Florence where there’s a private airfield.’

‘What about Brindisi?’