In a second, the door was closed again and the taller one inside, a plastic sports bag in one hand, an automatic pistol in the other. A brief smile flashed across his face.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not a terrorist!’

The bag landed on the floor at their feet.

‘All the goodies in there! Wallets, watches, rings, lighters, lockets, trinkets, bangles, ear-rings, silk knickers, you name it. Foreign currency in major denominations only, all major credit cards accepted. Move it, move it!’

The snout of the automatic jabbed out towards each of the three passengers in turn.

‘You piece of shit.’

It was hardly audible, a shiver of pent-up loathing finding its release. The pistol swung towards the silver-haired man.

‘You said what, grandpa?’

The grey-eyed man by the window cleared his throat conspicuously.

‘Don’t shoot me, please,’ he said. ‘I’m just getting my wallet out.’

The pistol swung away from the Veronese. The other man’s hand emerged holding a large brown leather wallet from which he extracted a plastic card.

‘What’s that?’ the youth snapped.

‘It’s no use to you.’

‘Let me see! And you two move it, for fuck’s sake, or do you want to get kneecapped?’

Expensive leather and precious metals began to hit the bottom of the plastic bag. The youth glanced at the plastic card and laughed briefly.

‘Commissioner of Police? Eh, sorry, dottore, I didn’t know. That’s OK, keep your stuff. Maybe one of these days you can do me a favour.’

‘You’re a police official?’ demanded the Veronese as the carriage jerked violently and the train started to roll forward.

The door opened and the other youth beckoned urgently to his companion.

‘Haven’t you fucking finished yet? Let’s go, for Christ sake!’

‘Well, do something!’ shrieked the silver-haired man as the pair scooped up the bag and vanished. ‘If you’re a policeman, do something! Stop them! Pursue them! Shoot them! Don’t just sit there!’