‘What the hell is she doing here?’ Holm said as they cruised down the main strip.

‘Brandon’s hosting a charity event, remember?’ Javed nodded forward. ‘Having his sister come along would certainly encourage guests to part with their cash. He’s probably sold the seats at her table. Ten K to share a Pot Noodle with a future president.’

‘But she’s no longer at the charity event. She’s in a convoy with a van containing a stack of smuggled weapons. Explain that, Farakh.’

‘Perhaps she doesn’t know what’s in the crate.’

‘Of course she doesn’t know what’s in the crate.’

They were leaving al Hammamet now, passing the last of the hotels on their right. Holm concentrated on following at a reasonable distance, trying to banish a niggling thought from his mind: what if Karen Hope did know what was in the crate?

They headed south for a few miles, hugging the coast before turning inland into what seemed to Holm to be wilderness. In the darkness there was only the intermittent flash of oncoming headlights and the occasional glimmer from a settlement off in the distance.

They drove for several hours, the road surface deteriorating until finally tarmac gave way to gravel. Ahead, the mini convoy continued to forge into the night and Holm was forced to stay well back and drive on dipped headlights. He grudgingly admitted to Javed that they could have done with his tracking device.

Javed nodded while reading a map on his phone. His finger hovered over the screen.

‘Algeria,’ he said. ‘Just a few miles to the border.’

‘Shit.’ Holm glanced down. ‘If they cross then we’re done. This is dangerous enough as it is.’

His worries were ended when a few minutes later the SUV and the van turned off the road and headed up a rough track. Holm slowed the car to a stop and wound down the window. Off to the right, red tail lights were disappearing up a rising escarpment. Some kind of settlement sat on the ridge, silhouetted against a sky burning with a million stars.

Holm got out and after a moment so did Javed. He came round the car, stood next to Holm and peered into the blackness.

‘Before you ask,’ Holm said. ‘I have no bloody idea what Karen Hope is doing up there.’

Chapter Thirty-Four

Silva didn’t sleep much. There was some kind of festival taking place in the town, and car horns sounded throughout the night. There were fireworks too, the first of which brought Itchy scampering into her room, half asleep, almost as if he was suffering from combat stress.

It was still dark when Nasim tapped on the door.

‘OK we go in thirty minutes, yes?’