‘Least I could do after what you did for me,’ Pon said. ‘I’ve been piecing it together, as much as my enfeebled but improving mind will allow me. Mother has told me how you never stopped searching for me. That you took a risky trip to Mexico; that you must have had something to do with my rescue from the Bangkok Express.’

Pon paused and looked into her father’s eyes. He avoided saying anything by hugging her.

‘You are not going to tell me, are you?’ she said.

‘The main thing is that we are both recovering well,’ Cavalier said. ‘One day I may talk about it. At the moment, it is better that you don’t know.’

‘And Far, you helped her too, didn’t you?’

‘That was a long time ago, darling.’

‘She and I have discussed it often. Someone killed her father, who had brutalised her, Mother and our grandmother. Forgive me, but we wondered if—’

‘Not worth discussing,’ Cavalier said, cutting her off gently. ‘I read the coroner’s report. So did your mother. Murder was ruled out. “Death by misadventure was the verdict.”’

‘Just like that of Cortez on the train, and before that Mendez in Bangkok?’

Cavalier said nothing as the bus prepared to leave.

‘I still don’t know what happened to Cortez but I am so, so very glad he is dead,’ Pon said.

Cavalier waved as she boarded the bus and took a seat. She was crying but smiled when he blew her a kiss.

*

Cavalier’s next move was to practise his firing skills with both handgun and a rifle. His first session at a local range was tougher than he imagined and had him wincing with every rifle shot. For the first time since he’d begun using a gun at eleven years of age while duck-shooting with his father in the Australian bush, he was well off target. Even his actions with a handgun caused pain in his injured side. It crossed his mind that his clandestine profession could be untenable. His accuracy from all ranges and angles was his greatest asset. Killing was a business of centimetre-perfect precision. Cavalier’s confidence was down but his plan was to build up his fitness, concentrating on his core strength.

*

When well enough to fly, he returned to Australia and met with Wombat at the lounge in the Lindrum Hotel on Melbourne’s Flinders Street. Wombat was spending so much time away from his home in Mandurah, Western Australia, that he was considering buying an apartment in Melbourne. In the meantime, he based himself as usual at the Lindrum.

During a billiards game, Cavalier said, ‘The paper that commissioned my article is still waiting for the story on the Mekong River trip.’ He paused to line up a ball. Without looking up at Wombat, he pocketed three shots and added, ‘The editor wants to know if the piece should appear in the travel section or somewhere else.’