‘Dad, Haddad’s not going to turn up in person. He is a coward. He’ll send his henchmen and they don’t play by Queensberry Rules.’

‘I was in the SAS, remember.’ He snapped the lid of the tackle box shut and put it in the canvas bag, picked up the bag and the rod, and stood. ‘I can take care of myself.’

‘I don’t doubt it, but what if there’s three of them? Five? Ten?’

‘Did Matthew Fairchild ever tell you how I saved his life in Iraq?’

‘This isn’t the time for—’

‘Rebecca! Listen, will you? This is important!’ The temper was characteristic of her father, but there was a waver to his voice that Silva hadn’t heard before. She paused and nodded. He continued. ‘We were deep in the southern desert, exfilling from a vantage point where we’d been calling in air strikes on Iraqi Scud positions. Our hide had been compromised so we had to make a swift getaway. Fairchild was bringing up the rear when he was hit. I told the rest of the guys to head on and create a diversion while I went back for him. When I got to Fairchild it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere fast. He’d taken a round in the knee. He told me to leave him a pistol and go, but I wasn’t having it. I got him to play dead and I scrambled up a nearby hill and hid in a gulley. About five minutes later the first of the Iraqis came round the corner. Fairchild stayed still and I allowed the soldiers to get up close. Then I opened fire. There were nine of them and I took out seven, while Fairchild got two. When I got back down to him I realised three of the Iraqis were still alive. According to the Geneva Convention they were now off-limits, but that was utter crap. If we’d left them they might have been able to attract the attention of other nearby patrols. They’d have been able to point out the direction we went.’ Her father paused and there was only the sound of a light wind brushing the rushes, a gentle lapping of little wavelets against the side of the jetty. ‘I shot them, Rebecca, one by one, and that still haunts me to this day.’

‘Dad.’ Silva moved forward. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown her father anything other than cursory affection, but now she wanted to tell him she loved him and cared for him.

‘No!’ Her father held up a hand. He had tears in his eyes. ‘The point is we do what is necessary to help those we care about. Right and wrong don’t come into it.’

Silva stood a pace away. Was her father saying he loved her, cared about her? ‘I don’t understand.’