As they sped out of the city along a busy three-lane highway, Silva remembered that when she’d arrived in Tunisia to visit her mother several months earlier it had appeared exotic. Now she stared out blankly at white low-rise apartments, the rubbish-strewn kerbs and the uninspiring monotony. Soon they were out into flat, arid country. The occasional olive plantation. The concrete shells of half-finished buildings. She dozed, awoken every now and then as they turned at a junction or hit a pothole at speed. After a while the flatness was replaced by rocky hills, sparse vegetation, anonymous towns. The road crested a ridge and swept left, a vast plain of undulating nothingness spread out to their right.

‘Algeria,’ Lona said. ‘Nearly a million square miles. The olive farm is close to the border, perfect as a handover point for the smuggled weapons. They could be going to AQIM groups in Algeria or to Daesh in Sudan, perhaps even as far as al-Shabaab in Somalia. The whole of North Africa is a mess, to be honest.’

‘But why on earth is Karen Hope going to be there?’

‘That’s just what I’ve been told.’ Lona turned to the back. ‘I follow orders and don’t ask too many questions. Life’s easier that way.’

Right, Silva thought. Or perhaps you know more than you’re telling.

The sun burned red as it sank in the west, somewhere amid the vastness of Algeria, and as dusk fell they entered a large town. Vehicles were honking their horns, people everywhere until they turned down a small alley and drew up outside a house with a high concrete wall. Lona got out and opened a pair of heavy gates and the car eased in alongside a white Land Cruiser.

The house was newly built and cool inside. Lona gestured to a couple of doors off the hall.

‘You’ll sleep in there.’ She turned. ‘There’s food in the kitchen, so eat and then rest. You leave at five a.m.’

‘Not we?’ Silva said.

‘Nasim will take you out to the olive farm in the 4 × 4. The kit’s already packed. When the job’s done he’ll drive you straight to the airport and you’ll rendezvous with the jet. I’m going back via a different route. We won’t meet again.’

‘And you’ll be somewhere safe in case anything goes wrong.’

‘Nothing will go wrong, you’ll make sure of that. You’ve got Nasim too. He can be trusted. He’s one of ours.’

‘One of ours?’

‘Our assets.’ Lona tilted her head. ‘The UK’s assets.’

Silva had it then. ‘You’re not with Fairchild, are you?’

‘No, of course not. I work for Simeon Weiss. I was placed in Fairchild’s organisation to watch over him, to make sure he did as he was told.’

‘You can tell Mr Weiss I’m not happy at being duped like this.’