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"You know what I mean, don't you?"

I did. I'd got to know quite a few of the victims these last few months.

"So, the only answer was what Clinton did throw a billion plus at Plan Colombia, with troops, hardware, all to kick ass down there. You know what Plan Colombia is, right? Of course, stupid, sorry."

The suspension creaked and things rattled under the wagon as she fought with the wheel.

"Without the Zone, we had no alternative but to project further south, take the fight to them in their backyard."

I was studying the red glow on the side of her face as she concentrated on the track.

"But it ain't going to work. No way. We're just getting dragged into a long, costly war down there that's going to have little impact on the drug trade."

Her eyes, still fixed on the way ahead, gleamed with conviction. Her father would have been proud of her, I was sure.

I'm telling you, we're getting pulled into their civil war instead of fighting drugs. Soon it'll spread into Venezuela, Ecuador and all the rest. This is Vietnam the Sequel. Because we have given away the Zone, we have created a situation where we now need it more than ever. Crazy, no?"

It made sense to me.

"Otherwise it'll be like launching the D-Day invasion of France from New York?"

She gave me a smile of approval, between fighting the ruts.

"Panama's going to be needed as a forward operating area from which to project our forces, as well as a buffer to stop the conflict spreading into Central America. What Clinton has done is a very dangerous alternative, but without the Zone and what it stands for, he had no choice."

We lapsed into silence again as she negotiated the last bit of track and we finally hit the road to Chepo.

"And the most scary, fucked-up thing of all is that China now runs the canal.

When we left, it created a power vacuum that China's filling. Can you imagine it? Without one shot being fired, Communist China is in control of one of the United States' most important trade routes, in our backyard. Not only that, we actually let the very country that could back PARC in the war take control."

I could see now what Aaron had been on about.

"Come on, it's just a Hong Kong firm who got the contract. They run ports worldwide."

Her jaw tightened as she gritted her teeth.

"Oh, yeah? Well, ten per cent of it is owned by Beijing they operate the ports at each end of the canal and some of our old military locations. In effect, we've got Communist China controlling fourteen per cent of all US trade, Nick can you believe we let that happen? A country that openly calls the US its number-one enemy. Since 1919 they have recognized the importance of the canal."

She shook her head bitterly.

"Aaron's right, I do agree with George, even though his politics have always been to the right of Attila the Hun."

I was starting to see her point. I'd never look at Dover docks in quite the same way again.

"Charlie was one of the group instrumental in pushing the Chinese deal. I wonder what his kickback was freedom to use the docks for business? And you know what? Hardly anyone knows up north the han dover deadline just sort of sneaked up on America. And Clinton? He didn't do a thing."

She didn't seem too keen on Democrat presidents.

The threat to the US is real, Nick. The hard reality is that we're getting dragged into a South American war because we gave away the canal to China. The Chinese, not us, are now sitting on one of the world's most important trade routes and they haven't paid a cent for the privilege. It's our bat and ball they're playing with, for Christ's sake."

I started to see pinholes of light penetrating the blackness ahead: we were approaching Chepo. I gave her a long, hard look, trying to figure her out as we rumbled over the gravel, and she kept glancing rapidly over at me, waiting for some kind of response.

"I guess this is where I fit in," I said. 'I'm here to stop Charlie handing over a missile guidance system to PARC so they can't use it against US helicopters in Colombia."

"Hey, so you're one of the good guys." She'd started smiling again.

That's not the way it feels." I hesitated.

"Your dad wants me to kill Charlie's son."

She jolted the wagon to a halt on the gravel, the engine ticking over erratically. I could now see her full face in red shadow. I couldn't make out whether the look in her eyes was shock or disgust. Maybe it was both. It soon became a mixture of confusion and the realization that I had been as economical with the truth as she had.

"I couldn't tell you because of OP SEC I tried to fight it but couldn't, the lid was still completely off.

"And also because I'm ashamed. But I've still got to do it. I'm desperate, just like you." I glanced out at the expanse of muddy, water filled potholes caught in the headlights.

"His name is Michael. Aaron teaches him at the university."

She slumped in her seat. The locks ... he told me about-' That's right, he's just a few years older than Luz."

She didn't respond. Her eyes joined mine, facing forward and fixed on the tunnel of light.

"So, now you have the misfortune of knowing all that I know." Still nothing. It was time for me to shut up and just look out at the illuminated mud and gravel as the wagon moved off. Then I turned and watched as she pursed her lips, shook her head and drove as if she was on autopilot.

TWENTY-NINE

Friday 8 September We'd hardly exchanged another word as we bounced around in the cab for the next couple of hours.

I finished getting the bergen out of the back and pulled back on the leaf sight as far as it would go to check that the battle sights were set at 400.

"Nick?"

I leaned down to the half-open window. Bathed by the red glow of the dash she was moving the blanket I'd thrown from the weapon, which had landed on the selector.

"Michael is dying to save hundreds, maybe thousands of lives. It's the only way I can deal with it. Maybe it'll work for you."

I nodded, concentrating more on protecting the zero than trying to justify myself. Charlie should be getting the good news, not his boy.

"It's certainly going to save one, Nick. One that you love very much, I know.

Sometimes we have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, no?" She held my gaze for another couple of seconds, then glanced down at the selector. I wondered if she was going to look up again, but she chose Drive, and hit the gas.

I stood and watched the red tail-lights fade into the darkness, then waited the three minutes or so it would take for my night vision to start kicking in. When I could see where I was putting my feet, I tied the gollock around my waist, checked for the hundredth time that the map and docs were still secure in my leg pockets, and felt for the Silva compass that hung round my neck under my T-shirt. Then I shouldered my bergen, heaved the tub on top, and held it in place with a straight arm, my left hand gripping the handle. With the rifle in my right, I moved down to the road junction, then headed west towards the house.

I soon broke out in a sweat under the weight of the load, and could taste the bitterness of Deet as it ran into my mouth. Only three and a half hours of darkness remained, by the end of which I needed to be ready at the gate. As soon as it was light enough to see what I was doing, I needed to place the device and find a firing position in the opposite treeline. It was pointless trying to rig it up in darkness; I'd spend more time rectifying my mistakes at first light than if I'd just done it then in the first place.

The plan was so simple that as I pushed on, listening and looking for vehicles, there wasn't much to think about until I got there. My mind was free to roam, but I wasn't going to allow that. It was time for nothing else but the mission.

After a few changes of arm supporting the weight of the tub, I was finally at the gates. Keeping over to the right, in cover, I dumped the tub while I caught my breath. Ground-mounted perimeter lights illuminated the walls, making it look even more like a hotel. When eventually I looked through the railings of the gate, the fountain was still lit, and I could see the glint of light on a number of vehicles parked haphazardly in the drive beyond it. The gold side windows of the Lexus winked back at me.

The house was asleep, no light shining out, apart from the enormous chandelier, which sparkled through a large window that I took to be above the main entrance.

There wasn't going to be any finesse about this device, but it had to be set very precisely. As the vehicle moved through the gates, the force of the shaped charge had to be directed exactly where I wanted it. I would also have to make sure it was well camouflaged with the mozzie net.

I went back and collected the tub, then stumbled along the animal track that ran between the wall and the canopy. The wall ran out after just seven or eight metres, and at that point I moved a few feet back into the trees to wait for first light. There was no need to go further. Besides, some of Diego's traps might still be set.

Keeping the bergen on my back, I sat on the tub with the weapon across my legs to protect the zero, the plastic protection rustling gently each time I moved. I was just willing the mozzies to try to take a bite out of me now I was 95 per cent pure Deet, but they seemed to know better.

I changed my mind about keeping the bergen on. It wasn't serving any purpose and, besides, I wanted water from the side pouch. As I took slow sips I unstuck the T-shirt from my itchy chigger rash and gazed enviously at the house with its air-conditioning and refrigerators working overtime.

The occasional animal made a noise in the jungle as the mozzies still circled in holding patterns around me, sounding like kamikaze planes heading for my face before changing course after a sniff of what I had waiting for them.

Once I'd put the water back into the bergen I gave myself another rub down with the Deet, just in case they discovered a gap in the de fences The tiny bits of leaf and bark on my hands scrubbed against my face and stubble.

I sat, scratched my back, felt the fur on my teeth with my tongue, and wished I'd hit the fire press el three times when I'd had the chance.

About forty-five boring minutes later I began to see an arc of pale light rising above the treeline. It was going to be a dull one. The birds took their cue to get noisy, and the howler monkeys on the other side of the house woke up the rest of the jungle as if the crickets ever slept.

I began to make out a low mist lying on the mud of the clearing and, higher up, black and grey cloud cover. It would be good for me if the sky stayed overcast:

it meant no chance of sunlight reflecting off the objective lens.

Another ten minutes and light was penetrating the canopy. I could just see my feet. It was time to start rigging the device.

After rechecking the score marks on the sight, and that the battle sights were pulled back to 400, the kit went back on and I moved slowly towards the gate. I dropped the tub and bergen about two metres short of it, laying the weapon on the ground and not against the wall to avoid any chance of it falling.

It didn't take long to find a tree of the right height and structure to take the charge there were enough of them about. I took the nylon tow-rope out of the top flap pouch of the bergen, tied one end of it to the tub's handle and gripped the other between my teeth. The taste of petrol nearly made me gag while I looked up and worked out how to climb my chosen tree. My calf was throbbing painfully.

It was a noisy ascent but a time comes when you just have to get on with it, and now was the moment, before everybody in the house began to stir. Trapped water fell on to my head and I was drenched again by the time I reached my vantage point

At last I could just see over the wall towards the house, and to the other treeline to my half right, where the bottom couple of feet of the trunks were still shrouded in mist. My firing point was going to be somewhere along that treeline; it was maybe 300 metres away and the tub should be easy enough to find from that distance with the optic. I thought about placing a large leaf or two on top of the wall as a marker to guide me in, but it was too risky. If I could see it, so could anyone driving towards the gate. I had to assume they were switched on, and that anything unusual would be treated with suspicion. I'd just have to open my eyes and find it once I got into position.

I was still working out how I was going to strap the tub in position when I heard the noise of an engine start up in the driveway. I turned my head to look towards the source. The only things moving were my eyes and the dribble from the sides of my rope-filled mouth.

It was impossible to make out what was happening. There were no lights from any of the vehicles, just the low, gentle sound of a petrol engine ticking over.

I had to act. This might be the only chance I got.

I opened my mouth to release the rope, and almost fell as I scrambled down the trunk. Adrenaline surged as I grabbed the weapon and ran back to the end of the wall, frantically tearing at the plastic, trying to check the score marks, feeling for the ready rounds, feeling for my docs.

I dropped on to my right knee, brought the weapon up, and looked through the optic, gulping in deep breaths to oxygenate me for the shot, wiping the Deet sweat from my eyes before removing the safety.

An oldish guy moved around in the low light, the tip of a cigarette glowing in his mouth. He was wearing flip-flops, football shorts and a badly ripped dark polo shirt, and was wiping the night's rain and condensation off the sleek, black Lexus with a chamois leather. The engine must be running for the air, which meant he was expecting passengers soon.

I sat back on my right foot and braced my left elbow on my left knee, the soft bit just above the elbow joint jammed into the kneecap, butt pulled firmly into the shoulder. Then I checked my field of view into the killing ground.

There was no pain in my leg now, no feeling anywhere as I prepared myself mentally, visualizing the target coming from the front door, heading for either the rear or front of the Lexus.