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Hello, Matt. Hello, Alice. No, no, please don't call me that anymore. I'm now going by shark.

Why?

It's just safe for this way. It's a covert story this week. Top secret. Just keeps my cover.

Okay, do I get a code name? Sadly, it's too late for you. You actually already know too much.

Right, so what happens to me? I'm so sorry, Matt.

July 2010, the Dolomite Mountains, Italy. Mark Kennedy loads his bike into the back of his camper van.

He's parked high up on the mountain pass above the cloud line. In the distance, snowy peaks catch the last of the day's sunlight.

Mark is with his girlfriend, Amy, on a climbing holiday. It's their six year anniversary, and Amy wanted to celebrate.

It's been a tough year, and she's stood by him through it all. In some ways, she's the one person he still trusts.

He's excited about the surprised dinner he's planned, and is about to tell Amy, but she's acting strangely. He can't work out why.

Probably because for your sixth anniversary, you're taking up a mountain instead of to Paris for fine wine truffles steak champagne.

Instead, he climbs into the driver's seat and turns on the engine.

As he shifts into gear, the van lurks his forward. They almost veer off the road. Pay attention, Mark. You're gonna kill us.

Mark regains his composure. He guides the vehicle around the road's hair in bends. Amy sits next to him in silence.

Maybe a drink will help calm the nerves. Fancy an aperitif. There's a bar of short walked down the mountain. Sure.

Marks tears the van into a nearby car park and kills the engine.

The bars terrace is a world away from the protest camps they spend time in at home. Those are dirty, rough and ready.

Places where it smells like most people haven't showered for a few days or a few years.

Sounds a bit like the British scandal studio.

On a good day.

Nothing like where they are now. Mark waves a waiter over orders two campari sodas.

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