‘Look at it another way. What’s your life worth?’

Cavalier aimed the gun at Dubois’ head and said, ‘Make it out to Sally Deere.’

Dubois looked up. Cavalier spelt her name.

‘That’s the wife of the Australian agent you murdered,’ Cavalier said with a hard stare. ‘Sign it Juan Lopez.’

Dubois wrote out the cheque and signed it as directed, still buying time, even a split second.

‘Put it on the table, without standing.’

Dubois obeyed. Cavalier stood and glanced at the cheque.

‘One of your many pseudonyms?’

Dubois stared. Then he lunged. Cavalier fired. The gun made a zip sound, no louder than the popping of a champagne cork. Dubois clutched his side below the heart. The force of the bullet pitched him sideways and back into the chair. Cavalier hovered over him. Dubois was groaning. His breathing was laboured.

‘Hurts there, doesn’t it?’ Cavalier said.

Dubois went pale. He continued to clutch his side. Blood began to trickle through his fingers. His jaw sank and he looked up at Cavalier, as if to say, ‘Won’t you help me?’

‘I had to fly to Chiang Mai like that,’ Cavalier said. Dubois’ face was now drained of blood from the trauma. He kicked up a leg. Cavalier pulled the trigger again, this time catching the quarry in the other side. The victim’s eyes bulged as blood began to seep from the other side of his body. He seemed to pass out. Taking no chances, Cavalier fired a third time, hitting him in the forehead.

Cavalier turned off his tape, picked up the cheque, pocketed them and the two phones and moved to the bathroom, where he grabbed towels. He packed them around the slumped Dubois’ torso and head, which stopped the blood from flooding the floor. The bitter, sickly sweet smell Cavalier knew so well made him feel bilious.

‘I’m getting a bit old for this caper,’ he mumbled to himself.

Cavalier carefully emptied the dead man’s pockets and removed any reference to Dubois/Lopez, including the passport, bank details, his phone, wallet, chequebook and other items such as car keys and a second phone. He placed them all in the manila envelope. Cavalier examined the wallet, and removed eleven hundred dollars in cash. He placed this in a small envelope from the apartment lobby desk, and printed on it:

To the Manager.

Please see advance payment for ten days. Do not clean the room. I have valuable private papers in there. Please accept one hundred dollars as a tip for your services.

Sincerely,

Juan Lopez

Cavalier locked the room and walked down the stairs. The lobby clock said 10.03 p.m. He pushed the envelope containing the rent money into a post box marked ‘Manager’ and left the building without encountering anyone. He removed his gloves and placed them in the manila envelope under his arm.