Holm opened his eyes and craned his neck, expecting to see nothing but a sheer wall of unclimbable rock. Instead he saw a sloping boulder dappled with sun and shade. Above the boulder hung the branches of an olive tree. He thought of olives now. Olives and a crisp white wine. Perhaps, after this was all over, he’d return to Italy and rent a villa on the Amalfi Coast. Sit and watch the sea.

‘Right,’ he said, reaching for the next handhold and pulling himself up. In another couple of moves, his head crested the clifftop and he wriggled over and lay in the shade of the tree. ‘Thank God.’

Javed scrambled up and lay alongside him. For a moment they stayed still. Holm turned towards the farm. The little olive grove comprised half a dozen ancient trees. Each tree sat in a small depression and a black hose snaked between them. Water trickled from a hose end within arm’s reach. Holm crawled over and put the hose to his mouth and took a drink. Then he splashed water on his face before handing the hose to Javed.

As Javed drank, Holm turned to the farm again. A low wall separated the olive grove from the farm. Beyond, several buildings surrounded a yard. The farmhouse stood to one side and there was a veranda at the rear. He eased himself up. The yellow SUV was parked next to a pick-up truck and on the back of the pick-up was the crate they’d seen loaded into the white van.

‘The weapons,’ Javed said. ‘We need to call Palmer.’

‘Yes, but I want to see what’s going on in the farm first.’ Holm swung his gaze to the main building. ‘And find out what the hell Karen Hope is doing in there.’

Taher stood at the farmhouse window. On the far side of the room the future president of the United States of America sat at a small table eating breakfast.

‘We’re done,’ Karen Hope said. ‘You fulfilled your side of the deal and you’ve got the missiles and the money. Now we go our separate ways.’

‘You think you can just walk away from this?’ Taher turned from the window. Despite the large deposit sitting in his bank account, despite the missiles hiding in the loft space of his lock-up garage and the ones outside on the truck, he felt as if Hope had got the better of him. ‘Your hands are stained with blood too.’

‘It goes with the territory.’

‘Perhaps, but there’s always a price to pay, and I’m wondering, given the nature of the prize, if I wasn’t short-changed.’