Vandeveer sat alone at the end of the truck near the doors. He held up a snow-globe with a pony inside against a backdrop of the Matterhorn. He turned it upside down, gave it a swish and set it by his side as the tiny particles of plastic orbited and settled on the back of the figure inside. He sighed.

'Something the matter, Reto?' Daltmooreby said, approaching.

'What? er — no. Nothing,' Vandeveer said, startled.

'Bit of a botch, that raid,' Daltmooreby observed airily, sitting down.

'Tell me about it — we were this close to getting caught!' Vandeveer spat angrily.

'So... er... tell me about what happened down there in the hole,' Daltmooreby suggested. 'I wasn't there.'

'There was no diamond!' Vandeveer hissed.

'Fascinating — and Von Trapp was so sure,' Daltmooreby mused.

'Uurrgh! Don't talk to me about the megalomaniac. I've about had it with his condescension. I came on board this ill-fated venture because of that diamond. Now I'm on some fool's errand to God knows where.'

'We are going to Egypt. Mary said. Did she not tell you?' Daltmooreby said.

'No,' Vandeveer said. 'No, she did not. Clearly I'm not in the loop.'

'You're taking the long route. I'm going ahead to lay the ground for you guys. I have contacts we can make use of.'

'Vandeveer perked up. 'Really?' he said, and in a moment of inspiration added, 'Take Slepp with you — he can be of use to you if you encounter any... delays. I don't mean to cause trouble, Shawn old boy, but you're not as young as you once were.'

'Neither are you, old man,' Daltmooreby shot back woundedly.

'That's what my daughter calls me,' Vandeveer chuckled. 'Old man.'

'You have a family?' Daltmooreby scoffed. 'I've... learnt to live without such... incumberments,' he hesitated momentarily.

Sreka, who had come into the truck sometime earlier and gleefully had let von Trapp drive the last five hours, left an animated conversation with Mary and walked down the length of the truck between the various stacked crates to address Daltmooreby. Vandeveer put the snowglobe in his pocket. 'Mary says to get ready; we are approaching the airfield.'

'Slepp!' Vandeveer called. The courier assassain lumbered over. 'Go with Mr Daltmooreby. Help him.'

'Him?' Sreka snorted.

'He works for me, Anderi. You are merely in my debt. Don't ever forget that.'

'I won't. But the others won't like it.'

'And I told you before they'll just have to live with it.' Vandeever stood up and brushed himself off and stood beside his courier.

The truck slowed down to a halt. A few moments later the bolt slid back and von Trapp opened the huge doors. 'Hurry or you'll miss your flight. It's charter, but it won't leave until the morning. I'm sure you'll find some way on board.' Von Trapp didn't stop to say goodbye; he set off again to the cab at the front.

Slepp brushed between Sreka and Vandeveer and followed Daltmooreby. 'Watch him close,' Vandeveer whispered to Slepp as he passed.

Outside, Daltmooreby hopped onto the grassy verge and applied his fedora because it was windy. Slepp closed the doors to the truck, which sounded loud in the silent night, and then bolted them shut. Von Trapp clambered up into the truck. Lights at the back blinked on and the truck pulled away into the night.

Daltmooreby put his outstretched fingers through the chain-link fencing, rested his weight on the fence and looked across the airfield. At four in the morning, it was quiet and deserted. 'We need to get onto that terminal,' Daltmooreby said.

'I can help,' Slepp said, and produced a white-out pen.

'I think I see where Sreka was going. Wouldn't bolt cutters be of more use?'

Slepp ignored him. 'An acidic compound of my own making,' he said unpeturbed, and painted it on four loops in the fence, about the height and width of a man apart. These points glowed a bit orange in the darkness and went 'ping' quietly as they cooled down. Slepp pushed against the fencing and it gave way easily and fell inwards.

'I guess you are useful after all,' Daltmooreby said, gazing at the hole in the fence.

'Mr Vandeveer thinks so. After you,' Slepp said, indicating that Daltmooreby should proceed.

'In the morning I'll lift us two passports from the concourse...'

'I can fix them,' Slepp said, grinning. Official papers are something of a speciality.'

The pair ambled across the airfield towards the terminal, happily discussing the finer art of forgery in the modern age.

Sreka approached Mary, reclining on some packing crates containing yet more snowglobes.

'You should get some sleep, Andrei,' she suggested in that motherly tone.

'Perhaps later,' he grunted.

'You seem pre-occupied with something,' she inquired, a strategic look in her eyes.

'It is nothing.'

'If you insist. You should get some rest. We have some difficult driving ahead of us before we can reach the ports in Italy. I need you fresh to take over from von Trapp.'

'Then I will rest. Why are travelling by sea. Would it not have been quicker to fly with Daltmooreby and that "gangster" of Vandeveer's?' Sreka asked, mocking Tonnajob.

'Slepp left with Daltmooreby?' Mary asked, raising her voice.

'Vandeveer suggested he do so.'

'Did he now?' Mary said, baring her teeth slightly.

'And did Reto say anything else to you?' she asked pointedly.

'No, nothing,' Sreka lied.

'I see. Good night, Andrei.'

'Good night.' Sreka rolled over to look for sleep. With many thoughts still turning over in his mind, sleep would not come easily.

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