‘I… uh.’ Momentarily flustered as to which question to answer first. ‘Just around the corner, next vestibulo. Not far. And a while.’ She held one palm out. ‘Though I can’t say exactly how long. Only his doctor can answer that.’

‘You’ll need to give me a hand with these. I have to get up.’

‘Senor, you’re not meant to… por favor!’

But with Jac already half-up, seeing that he was going to rip all the tubes off in any case, she quickly attended. Detached the monitor links and IV and saline feeds.

‘You’ll have to show me where,’ he said over his shoulder, already breaking into a run, Carmita struggling to keep up a few steps behind.

Jac felt the pain knifing through his shoulder sharper with each stride, the corridor tilting and shifting at one point, Jac bracing with a hand against one wall, afraid that he might be passing out again.

‘His operation was only completed twenty minutes ago,’ Dr Delgado, Truelle’s surgeon, informed Jac when Carmita located him a minute later. ‘So, at least another five or six hours before he comes round.’

Jac’s stomach dived. ‘Any possibility of sooner?’

Delgado shrugged. ‘Three and a half, four hours perhaps. But you’d be lucky to get more than a few words out of him then — he’d still be very groggy.’

Jac cradled his head in one hand, rubbing at his temples, the buzzing back suddenly, the corridor swaying again and tilting away for a moment… all options sliding away with it. And towards its end he could see Brent Calbrey sitting, elbows on knees, hands steepled thoughtfully against his chin.

Friends… insurance policies! Truelle said that he’d left details of the whole thing in envelopes with them.

Jac went towards Calbrey and asked him. ‘Left with close friends, apparently. Any idea who they might be?’

Calbrey shrugged. ‘No, sorry. He didn’t mention anything. I didn’t know many of his friends Stateside.’

‘ Bothkilled recently,’ Jac prompted. But Calbrey’s expression remained vague. ‘Are you sure he didn’t say anything… anything?’ The clinging desperation in Jac’s voice echoing off the corridor walls as Calbrey shook his head.

Jac felt himself swaying uncertainly, the grey edges threatening to drag him back under. And in that moment it struck him that maybe it was better if they did, or if he hadn’t woken up in the first place? To get twoshots at saving Durrant, and still fail. The cruellest fate of all.

He asked Calbrey the time, 12.07 a.m., fifty-three minutes left now, but it hardly mattered, there was nothing left to -

Briefcase! As Calbrey checked his watch, Jac recognized it from Truelle reaching for it earlier ‘… apart from what you’ve now got on tape, there’s something else that will…’ Jac confirmed with Calbrey that it was Truelle’s briefcase.

‘Yes, I… I brought it with me because it’s got his papers — including his blood group on a donor card.’

But Calbrey became hesitant when Jac pressed that there was probably something in it he needed urgently, and Jac’s patience snapped. ‘ Look! I don’t have the time to fucking argue with you — I’ve got a man’s life to save! You can sort it out with Truelle later whether or not you were meant to let me have it.’

Calbrey handed the briefcase over with a palms out, hey, I’m not the enemy. It was me who fished you out the sea, for Christ’s sake.

Jac opened the briefcase, saw the buff envelope addressed to Truelle at the Sancti Spiritus apartado— ripped it open with trembling hands.

Cassette tape, nothing else inside as Jac tipped the envelope up. Anthony Redmortwritten on one side of the tape, no other wording. Jac began to worry that it was nothing to do with Durrant, just another patient’s history.

Jac asked Carmita if there was a tape-recorder somewhere in the hospital, and within three minutes she’d got one from another floor.

As Jac pressed play, Truelle’s voice from twelve years ago — conditioning Durrant with all the details of the robbery and murder of Jessica Roche — echoed eerily along the corridors of the Sancti Spiritus hospital, Jac’s voice crashing in after the first few sentences as he punched the air: ‘Yes, yes… oh, fucking yes!’

Pain rocketed through his shoulder, even though he’d used his good arm, but he hardly cared at that moment. He dialled Candaret’s number straight away.

‘Governor Candaret… Jaa…Darrell Ayliss. Larry Durrant’s attorney. Earlier today, I received a full confession from Leonard Truelle, Larry Durrant’s psychiatrist of twelve years ago, that he falsely conditioned Durrant in regard to the murder of Jessica Roche. All of this a conspiracy led by Mr Roche with a certain Nelson Malley doing his bidding — who in fact was probably the real murderer. And now a tape which categorically supports this, which I think you’d want to hear…’ Jac played almost a full minute of the tape over the phone before bringing the receiver back to his ear. ‘I’ve got the entire tape right here, Governor, but I think that’s probably enough there to have given you the flavour.’

‘I don’t know, Mr Ayliss.’ Candaret sighed, Roche’s call still fresh in his mind. White House drifting out of reach. ‘You call me now at the eleventh hour with a completely fresh account of the murder, supported by some tape from years ago played to me over the phone. It’s not exactly conclusive.’

‘The tape I’ve got here,’ Jac’s voice strained, breath staccato with exasperation, ‘goes on for almost an hour — Truelle giving everypossible detail of Jessica Roche’s murder for Durrant to repeat at his next session. You can’t get more conclusive than that.’

‘I hear what you’re saying, Mr Ayliss. But the problem I have with that is one of — ’

‘Governor Candaret,’ Jac cut in, exhaling tiredly. ‘I don’t have the time now to fool around. And more to the point, nor does Larry Durrant.’ Jac’s patience was gone. Long gone from hit men, almost being drowned twice, police hunting him like a rabbit on a false murder rap. ‘If you don’t phone Libreville prison right away and stop Larry Durrant’s execution — then when I get back to New Orleans, I’m going to make sure to get on every TV and radio show I can and play this tape. And when I do, I’m going to make it clear, crystal clear, that I played this same tape to you now in front of two good witnesses — ’ Jac nodded at his end, smiling tightly towards Carmita and Calbrey — ‘and you stilllet Durrant’s execution go ahead.’

Candaret’s sigh was heavier this time, almost a groan. It looked like the White House was sliding out of reach now either way, but it would do so a lot quicker dragged through the media over Durrant than by Roche meddling in the background. He clarified a few details about the set-up between Roche, Truelle and Malley, then asked: ‘And tell me, Mr Ayliss — did Mr Roche know earlier today that something on this front might be happening?’

‘Yes, he did. In fact, he sent Malley to try to kill Truelle before he could talk.’

‘I see.’ Now Candaret understood that earlier call from Roche. There were a few things he hated, and being manipulated was one of them. He was a politician; that was hisjob.

‘As… as soon as I get off the phone now,’ Jac said, ‘I’ve got to call the NOPD to pick up Roche. Not only for this now, with Durrant and the attempt on Truelle, but two other murders that I know of.’

‘That’s okay, Mr Ayliss.’ His sigh now calmer, more satisfied. ‘That’s actually a call I’d like to have the pleasure of making myself. AfterI’ve called Warden Haveling to stop Larry Durrant’s execution.’

Bye-bye waited until he’d reached Cienfuegos before he made the call.

‘It’s all done.’

‘Clean? No hitches?’

‘Some small last-minute complications, but I got aroun’ them. Nobody saw me.’