‘Good evening, Monsieur Dubois,’ Cavalier said, his gun pointing at him. The stalker jumped. His dead eyes flashed shock and fear, expressions never seen on the Mekong or in Luang Prabang, even when he shot Cavalier. His long arms dangled. His hands flexed to fists.

‘Sit,’ Cavalier said, waving his gun at a chair against the opposite wall. ‘Any stupid move by you and you’re dead.’

The man hovered.

‘Sit!’

He backed to the chair and almost fell into it.

‘Nice to be remembered,’ Cavalier said, ‘especially when you shot me.’

‘I had to …’ the man said, his voice shaky.

‘I survived,’ Cavalier said. ‘You won’t if you don’t answer my questions.’

Dubois’s eyes flicked to his luggage.

‘Don’t even think about it. I found your other weapons.’ Cavalier lifted his gun, pushed it forward in his right hand and took out a tiny recorder with his left. He started it.

‘I want you to tell me who sent you. Was it Farquar?’

‘I … I just receive messages.’

‘You have five seconds. Five, four, three …’

‘Yes, yes, it was Farquar.’

‘How much is the down payment for the Haut kill?’

‘Nothing …’

‘One more lie will demonstrate you are wasting my time. In that case, I shall kill you.’ Cavalier pointed at Dubois’ hands. There was a tremor in the left.

‘Terrible, isn’t it, when someone has control over you?’ Cavalier held up his left hand. ‘You see? My hands are steady.’ He smiled. ‘I repeat: how much down payment did you receive for the Haut kill?’

‘One million, five hundred thousand.’

‘You know that Hollos, Leni and Castro received ten million up front before being sent to assassinate Haut? You were short-changed by Farquar, who’s now trying to sell his San Antonio ranch, for guess what?’

Dubois’s eyes flicked this way and that, but he did not reply.

‘Fifteen million,’ Cavalier said. ‘You’re getting a small percentage of the amount he is, and you have to do his dirty work! He’s taken the rest that was due to you.’

Cavalier could sense the dials of Dubois’ mind whirring. Could he talk his way out of this? Could he jump Cavalier? Apart from the hand tremor, which could have been permanent, his manner was cool, ever-testing, searching for a weakness, a loophole, a chance, a tell.

‘I can offer you half,’ Dubois said. ‘I can write a cheque for you right now. Right away!’

Cavalier pretended to consider the offer. He nodded. Dubois eased a wallet, biro and a new Bank of America chequebook from his jacket pocket.

‘How quaint, a chequebook,’ Cavalier remarked. ‘To avoid electronic surveillance no doubt? You realise it would be logged electronically once cashed?’

Dubois did not respond.

‘Make it one and a half million,’ Cavalier said. ‘Very slowly now.’

Dubois’ jaw dropped, not in shock, but anger.

‘You want all of it? You want to rob me of everything?’