A Devil is vaiting

SEVEN

They climbed in, and Tony turned from the rioting mob and drove off. Henri Legrande, some little distance away, saw them go, and Duval make his way toward the subway, as many people did, fleeing from the violence. He joined in, keeping an eye on Duval, who was some distance ahead.

On the other side, some people made for bus stops and others hailed taxis or walked down Park Lane. Duval was on the heels of a group of seven or eight who turned into Upper Brook Street. As Henri rounded the corner, Duval, concealed in a doorway on the other side of the street, took a photo with his mobile phone.

Henri hurried after the group, realizing that he had lost his quarry when they reached Grosvenor Square, not that it really mattered. He d just been interested in who the fellow Frenchman might be. Kelly was parked across from the American Embassy, and Henri joined him.

What was it like? Kelly asked.

Terrible. A real bloody riot, Henri told him, and Kelly drove away, passing Duval, who had been watching.

Duval called Roper on his mobile and told him what had happened. Roper said, I must say, Claude, it would be a remarkable coincidence.

My dear Giles, I understand life to be full of them, but admit I could be wrong. If he hadn t cursed someone he was wrestling with in that mob in rather rude French, I would not have paid him the slightest attention, but why was he following me?

You re quite right, so first things first. I ll have Dora look at the photo. If she says it s the Pernod drinker from the Dark Man, then we ll obviously seek assistance from your Paris files.

Excellent. Give me your number and I ll patch the photo through now.

Roper did as he was asked. We re still in the van on the way to Holland Park, but it will be waiting when we get there.

Duval lit a cigarette, thinking of the sign he had noticed on the side of the Citro n van as it passed. Mary s Bower. Quite intriguing, that. Something to do with religion perhaps. And he walked away.

When they arrived at Holland Park, the four of them went into the computer room, and Henri Legrande was on one of the many screens. Roper had explained the situation to them on the way.

He said to Doyle, You re the copper. What do you think?

Doyle said, Mid-sixties, could be older. Very self-contained. Don t let the glasses fool you that s just age. He s been a soldier.

Sara said, How can you be sure of that?

Because I ve been a military policeman for seventeen years. We guard the wall, we take care of the bad things that ordinary folk can t face. We can kill when we have to. Not many people can do that.

Now then, Tony, you re waxing lyrical again.

Yes, I ll put myself on report, Major. There was some talk of Captain Gideon trying out her new weapon on the firing range. Shall I go down and prepare?

An excellent idea, Roper said. You carry on, Tony, and we ll catch up with you in fifteen minutes.

The firing range was at the rear of the main building, a long concrete bunker under the garden and dating from the Second World War. It was reached by a lengthy sloping tunnel, Roper leading the way into a cold and gloomy room, harsh white light at one end, illuminating a line of twelve targets representing charging soldiers in uniform, nationality unspecified. Tony Doyle was standing at a long table with a range of handguns laid out and sound mufflers for everyone.

Here we are, then, Roper said. What have you got for us, Tony?

There s a Glock here, a Browning Hi-Power, a. 44 Magnum, and a Beretta. Tony picked up the Browning. My personal favorite, Major.

Give it to me. Roper held out his hand, took the weapon, and lifted it. It s been a long time.

Tony slipped some mufflers on him. Roper gripped the left arm of his chair and fired from left to right three times, hitting each target in the chest.

You re still up for it, sir, Tony said, and Roper handed him the weapon. You finish.

Which Tony did, all heart shots. Will that do, sir?

Try not to sound so satisfied, Tony, Roper said.

And see to Captain Gideon.

Sara had covered her ears, taken the Colt from her shoulder bag, and loaded it. She weighed it, then fired, double-handed, very fast at the fourth target, riddling the heart and chest area.

Tony took the Colt from her. Not much left with those hollow points, ma am.

She picked up the Glock, remembering, face serious, extended her arm, and shot the fifth target in the heart. No one said a word, and she laid it down carefully. A good gun to have in a bad place.

She picked up her Colt and returned it to her shoulder bag, and Holley said, Lunch, anyone?

Roper sat there, a slight smile on his face, as if waiting for something, and Tony picked up the Browning, held it out without saying a word, and Holley took it. Do I have to?

Josef Lermov called it a gift from God, said Roper. We must show Sara.

More like a curse. Holley turned sideways, left hand on hip, right arm extended like some old Western gunfighter and double-tapped the last three soldiers, shooting out their eyes.

Oh, my God, Sara said softly.

Satisfied, Giles? Holley asked.

Absolutely, Roper said calmly. Let s go and have Maggie Hall s idea of a simple lunch. French onion soup, tossed salad, poached salmon with Lyonnais potatoes. Join us, Tony, when you re finished here.

He coasted out in his electric chair. Sara took Holley s hand without a word, and they walked after him.

After the meal, they went to the computer room and discovered the news screen alive with footage of the riot in Hyde Park. It had all been caught: Ali Selim s dramatic arrival, his appearance and subversive speech high above the crowd, including the rain of missiles, the riot police surging past the van. There was some further footage of Ali Selim, with what appeared to be blood on his face, emerging from the crowd, surrounded by minders, who bundled him into the back of a van waiting beside the Marble Arch entrance to the park and which had last been seen driving toward Bayswater.

A Scotland Yard commissioner made excuses for the police failure to arrest and detain Ali Selim, who could not be found at his home or the Pond Street Mosque. The Prime Minister emerged from 10 Downing Street to inform journalists that the speech could only be construed as advocating the assassination of the President of the United States and every effort would be made to find and arrest Selim.

Roper cleared the screen for a while. You noticed Ferguson, of course, standing at the back with a few other functionaries?

We certainly did, Holley said.

For future information, Sara, the rather jolly-looking chap with the permanent smile and the blond hair is a good friend of ours. Henry Frankel, the cabinet secretary.

He looked nice, she said. But what do you think Ali Selim was up to making such a speech? Was it really incitement to murder?

Others have made similar speeches with the hope that they will be imprisoned. They need martyrs to attract more followers to their cause. Al Qaeda knows damn well that the majority of Muslims don t want this kind of trouble.

So what do you think he s done?

Who knows? Roper said. Gone into hiding, done a runner. Maybe Al Qaeda has a plan for him. Anyway, I was thinking, Sara, maybe it would be a good idea if you spent the afternoon with me. I ll show you everything we get up to here, who our contacts are with outfits like GCHQ, the CIA, and the GRU, all the tricks of our rather nefarious trade.

I d like that very much, she said.

What do you think, Daniel?

I think it s an excellent idea. They coined the word Machiavellian for the great Giles Roper. Cunning and underhanded, but in the nicest possible way.

I would suggest you leave now, Roper said.

Well, make sure Tony takes the lady home. He smiled at Sara. Noon tomorrow, I ll pick you up.

Tony followed him out, and Sara found a swivel chair and sat beside Roper, looking up at the screens. It must make you feel like sort of lord of the universe.

That s true, particularly when I m watching people, their comings and goings. And the really spooky thing is they have no idea that it s happening.

Tony came in at that moment. Sorry to break this up, but it s shower time, Major, the full works. Can t have you sitting there smelling like an ashtray all day.

I hear and obey. Roper turned to Sara. Here s an exercise for you. Look up Professor Jean Talbot and a man named Jack Kelly.

At that precise moment, Mullah Ali Selim was enjoying a cup of coffee in the library of a country house called Stukely Towers. There was a knock at the door, it opened, and the young woman Sara Gideon had noticed running beside the palanquin entered, followed by a darkly handsome young man in jeans and a black bomber jacket. He was her fianc, Jemal Fateh, and she was Asan Selim, the mullah s niece. They were both dedicated jihadists.

So there you are, he said. Do you approve of the house, Asan?

Quite wonderful, Uncle.

Owned by a wealthy sheikh from the Gulf, one of many dedicated friends that we can always rely on. He also keeps a jet just ten miles from here.

I am glad to hear it. Now that Osama has been so brutally torn from our lives, your safety from our enemies is of crucial importance. You must leave England as soon as possible, she said.

Not yet. For the moment, I am safe here. Eventually, I shall leave for Pakistan, for Peshawar, and from there cross the border to a village called Amira, west of the Khyber Pass. I ll be safe amongst friends there, and I can plan our future campaign in peace. America, the Great Satan, shall pay for what they did to Osama. This I promise you.

In what way can we serve, master? Jemal asked.

Come with me and I ll show you, Ali Selim said, and led the way out.

It took a sizable staff to take care of such a house, and yet there was no sign of anyone, as if they were keeping out of sight. Selim led the way to a rear conservatory, through a tunnel, and they emerged in a vast garage containing many vehicles, the most interesting of which was an imposing yellow Central Accident Emergency ambulance.

This is exactly the same as the old and battered one you both spent two days being taught at the proving ground last week, Ali Selim said. The only difference is that this one is brand new and provided by the Brotherhood. Inside you will find uniforms and identity cards, plus a worksheet authorizing you to deliver emergency oxygen cylinders to level three of the underground garage at the House of Commons.

May we try driving it, master? Jemal asked.

Of course, but only in the courtyard. I ll see you in an hour and wear your uniforms.

He was going over papers at the library desk when the knock came, and they entered and stood together in the yellow uniforms, waiting for his approval.

Excellent. He nodded. It should work, particularly because there ll be so many vehicles that day. An obvious workhorse has a better chance than anything else of being accepted. Now, sit down and let me explain what we re attempting here.

Yes, Uncle, Asan said, and she and Jemal pulled chairs forward and sat.

Both of you can pass as Europeans particularly you, Asan, with your hair cut and dyed. You proved that by going on that guided tour of Parliament last week, when they showed you and the other tourists the terrace.

Which was interesting, Jemal said. But I don t see how we could possibly get that far on Friday.

Of course not, Ali Selim said. Certainly not in uniform, and not with this.

He picked up a large and very yellow paramedic s bag and dumped it on the desk.

You re not going to the terrace. There s no way you could get close enough to blow up the Prime Minister and the President, as wonderful as that would be. But there is something we can do. We can remind them that Al Qaeda is still a force to be reckoned with. We re going to blow up the underground garage in the House of Commons. It will reverberate around the entire world. There s enough Semtex in the bag to cause huge damage. All you have to do is leave the ambulance there and switch on the timer. You ll have thirty minutes to walk away.

And what then? Jemal asked.

Cross from Parliament to Northend Street, where a Mr. Aziz will be waiting in a white Ford van. You will change in the back of the van while he drives you back here, then we ll leave at once for the jet. Naturally, I ll be taking you to Pakistan with me.

There was a heavy silence as they glanced at each other, Asan with rather more enthusiasm than Jemal. Her eyes were shining as she said to Ali Selim, It is an honor to do this, Uncle.

You make me proud, child. He nodded to Jemal.

I d appreciate a word with my niece alone.

Of course, master, Jemal told him, got up with some reluctance, and went out.

Ali Selim took a small pillbox from a drawer, got up, came round the desk, and placed a hand on her head. Bless you, my child. Your parents would have been so proud. If anything untoward happens, if you were to fall into the hands of our enemies, I fear what they might do. These evil ones use torture of the worst kind.

She looked up in adoration. Nothing could ever make me speak, Uncle.

I m sure you would do your best, but I d hate to think of you suffering. He slipped the small pillbox into her hand. The capsule in there will take you to eternity in an instant, where you will wait for me until my time comes. Hold it in your mouth until all is lost and then bite on it.

She took the box without hesitation. You are so good to me.

This is our secret, of course Jemal would not understand. You, child, have become a woman, and he is still a boy. He patted her on the head. Go to him now.

Jemal was waiting in the hall anxiously and took her hand.

What did he say to you?

My uncle only wished to hear that I was strong enough for this, and I was able to assure him I am. We are privileged to be tasked with such a thing, Jemal, so let us be as one.

He nodded, still a touch reluctant. If that is how you see it, so be it.

It is, loved one. She took his hand. Now we are no longer two, but one, and it is a time for acting, not talking, and she led him toward the kitchen.

At Holland Park, when Roper returned, he found Sara watching the news. Anything of interest?

Still no sign of Selim.

And how have you been getting on with the Talbot saga?

It s an incredible story. I can see where Jack Kelly would give you a problem. The peace process totally wiped the slate clean for men like him. She shook her head. And now he s at it again. Do you think Jean Talbot knows?

The received wisdom would be that she doesn t, but I was never totally certain about her.

So what can you do about Kelly?

The IRA threat at the moment is from a ragbag army composed of various factions, Roper said. Kelly, with all those years in the Provisional IRA under his belt, has a membership in the Army Council and is a force to be reckoned with, but coming to grips legally with men like him is very difficult. After all, some of them are serving in Parliament at Stormont.

So how do you keep an eye on him?

I allow my computer to do that. Apparently, he flew in on a private Talbot plane yesterday. If he turns up at Jean Talbot s house, we ll know.

How?

We have an asset in the area. Talbot goes for a run in Hyde Park most mornings, and often has dinner with Owen Rashid of Rashid Oil. Good-looking chap, unmarried, younger than her. Welsh mother, Bedu father. Lives in Park Lane.

You mean she s under surveillance? She frowned. I don t like the sound of that.

Her son was a traitor to the Crown, and she is chairman of one of the biggest arms groups in the world. It s the name of the game. Do you want to go on?

She took a deep breath. Of course I do. So what next?

Holley had spent his day on Malik Shipping business, dealing with agents worldwide, mainly on screen. A final hour had been with Hamid Malik, his partner in Algiers, who treated him like a recalcitrant son.

Why can t the firm be enough for you, Daniel? Business has never been better. We re making millions.

I ve got millions, Holley told him.

Since they gave you Algerian nationality, the foreign minister is delighted with how well you speak for us abroad, even the President.

I m glad to do it, and not only for the diplomatic immunity it gives me. Algeria means a lot to me.

But still you crave for this violent world of action that Ferguson offers you. You re soon to be fifty, and still no woman in your life.

Holley answered instinctively, Oh, I wouldn t say that.

Malik was on it like a tiger. Ah, so there is someone? Tell me at once, Daniel. After all these years, am I not a father to you? Who is she?

It doesn t matter. She s twenty years too young for me.

Are you mad? Malik demanded. What is twenty years to a man and a woman in love? In any case, the way you live your life, you could take the fatal bullet at any time and probably will if you don t change your ways.

She also happens to be a Sephardic Jew.

Malik was suddenly angry. Daniel, I ve managed to survive with a Christian for my partner for almost thirty years. I m that kind of Muslim. Seize the day. Now go in peace. And by the way, there were Sephardic Jews living in Algiers a thousand years ago.

He was so tired that he undressed and went to bed in the early evening and drifted into sleep. It was the sound of his mobile that pulled him awake at ten-thirty. He was surprised at how late it was, but then, it had been a long day.

It was Sara. It s me, Daniel what a day I ve had. Roper is a hard taskmaster. Come and pick me up. I d love to sit on the terrace and have a drink with you.

He wanted to say yes, but forced himself to say no. It couldn t go on, it wasn t right, and to his surprise he realized that for once in a reasonably self-centered life, he was thinking of the welfare of another human being as more important than his own.

I don t think so, Sara. We ve got a big day tomorrow, the noon meeting. Try and get a good night s sleep.

Damn you, Daniel Holley. She sounded close to tears. I m going to walk all the way down South Audley Street to the Dorchester, look up and imagine you in your solitary splendor on the terrace, wish you a thoroughly rotten night, and then walk back.

She clicked off. Holley lay there thinking about it. Was it a tantrum or had she really meant it? But then, he didn t have a choice, because if they were being targeted, the last thing she should be doing was walking down any street at night, even in Mayfair. So he got out of bed and dressed quickly, cords and boots, a khaki shirt and his flying jacket, the holster on his right ankle. He was out the door fast, and behind him the curtains ballooned, stirred, then settled again.

Events had made it clear to Henri Legrande that Holley and Sara were more than just good friends. Their behavior on the walk to Hyde Park and during the riot had convinced him that they were a couple. The chance that Holley would deliver Sara home late from dinner or a show one night seemed obvious, as did the planning of an ambush. It might take two or three nights of waiting, but the moment would surely come.

He sat behind the wheel of the Citro n now, Kelly beside him, and behind were two hardheaded London Irish boys named Fahy and Regan, who had salivated over the prospect of a thousand pounds cash between them for crippling Daniel Holley. They were already drunk, a half bottle of whiskey shared between them, and were rowdy with it.

Where the fuck is this red Alfa you re going on about? Fahy demanded. We ve been here for an hour, man.

Just shut up and wait, Henri said grimly.

That s if you want to see the other half of your money.

From the dark end of Highfield Court where they were parked, they could see the house, and suddenly the door opened and security lights came on and Sara appeared. She was wearing a black leather belted coat, a scarf around her neck, carried a walking stick in her right hand, and her shoulder bag was slung across her front. She started to walk briskly, using the stick, already limping.

Would you look at that? Fahy cried. A fella could have a great time giving that one a seeing-to.

I saw her first. Regan reached for the door handle.

Leave it, Henri said. She s not the target. He triggered the internal locking device, securing all four doors.

Fahy said, She s getting away, for Christ s sake. This is stupid.

He reached over and punched Henri in the side of the head, leaned down, and unlocked the doors. The next moment he was standing on the pavement, pulling up his friend, who d fallen out. They were both swaying a little with the drink taken.

Get back in, you bloody fools, Henri said, tried to open his door, but Regan kicked it close.

They both broke into a shambling run. Along the pavement and for the full length ahead, the only sign of life was Sara.

Will you wait for us, darling? Fahy called.

We ll give you the time of your life.

She glanced over her shoulder, then turned and hurried on, her hand reaching for the Colt, which she was carrying in the right pocket of her leather coat for easy access.

We must do something, Kelly said.

Yes, like getting the hell out of here, Henri told him as the Alfa appeared down the road, and he swerved the Citro n into the nearest side street, parked, then jumped out and moved back to the corner to see what was going on. As he watched, Kelly joined him, peering over his shoulder.

Sara had just reached the corner of a dark cobbled lane. Regan was a few yards behind and Fahy reached her first, grabbing her scarf, forcing her round and swinging her into the entrance of the lane. She went down, and as she drew the Colt, he leaned over and tried to kiss her. She shot off the lobe of his left ear, and he cried out, blood staining his fingers.

Holley swung the Alfa into the curb, was out in a flash and, as Fahy tried to get up, booted him in the face, sending him backward into the gutter. Regan took one look, swerved into the lane, and kept on running. Fahy heaved himself up, a hand to his ear, and backed away in horror from the Colt in Sara s right hand, shaking his head dumbly, then turned and stumbled into the darkness.

Sara offered her hand. A drunken mugger, Daniel. It s the times we live in.

He pulled her up. Are you okay?

Of course I am. She held up the Colt. I was ready to blow that bastard s brains out.

I ll take you home.

Oh no you won t. There s only one place you re going to take me, and that s the Dorchester. Henri Legrande watched the Alfa drive away, having heard and seen everything that had taken place. Kelly said, What a mess that turned out to be.

It could have been worse. He might have beaten the truth out of those two, but his only concern was the woman, which enabled them to get away.

Henri said, This lady is quite exceptional. We ll have to take care with these two.

They turned and went back to the Citro n.

Rain drummed against the canopy, which Holley had sent out over the terrace at the touch of a button. He sat in the half-light, an open bottle of Dom Perignon on the table. There was only one glass, Sara having taken a refill with her when she had decided to soak in a hot bath in marble splendor.

He poured another and drank it slowly, considering what had happened. The two men involved in the assault had been luckier than they knew, but he felt curiously calm. That she was safe and unharmed was all that mattered.

He called Roper on his Codex and told him what had happened.

What do you think? he asked.

That you re losing your edge. The important question here is: Were these guys just drunken muggers, as Sara said, or were they a couple of thugs hired by somebody to do their worst? What you should have done was kick hell out of one of them until he talked.

All right, so I didn t.

And we both know why. While you were making sure Sara was okay, they were able to leg it. She is all right, isn t she?

So you care, do you?

Of course I do.

I ll tell her that. I m sure she ll be thrilled.

She s not still there, is she?

She felt like having a hot bath after what happened. I ll be taking her home shortly. Roper burst into laughter, and Holley said, What s so funny?

You are, Daniel, I ll see you at noon tomorrow. Say good night to Sara for me.

A moment later, she walked in wearing a terry-cloth robe. The bath was lovely.

Holley said, You re not dressed. Don t you want to go home?

On a night like this? It s pouring out there and I d be alone. Sadie s gone to Manchester to see her niece, who s just had a baby girl, and she ll be staying for a few days. I thought you wouldn t mind me sleeping over in the second bedroom, the smaller one you never told me about. I see the maid has only turned down the covers on yours. I d better go and sort the other one out.

Suddenly, she looked very tired indeed, the stress finally catching up with her, and although she would never admit it to him, her leg was really hurting.

Just take the master bedroom, Holley told her.

I ll be fine.

Thanks, Daniel, I believe I will. I ve got such a headache. You wouldn t have something for that, would you?

As it happens, I do. I ll get it for you. He went to his study, got two pills from his field service kit, went into the bedroom with a glass of water, and found her already under the covers, her head raised on a pillow.

These act incredibly quickly, and they ll help you sleep.

She got them down and put the glass on a side table. Sometimes I hate men, Daniel. What absolute bastards those guys were. A woman on her own on a dark street, and a cripple into the bargain. That just about sums them up.

He sat beside her on the bed and held her hand. With a pistol in her hand and ready to use it. That creep doesn t realize he s lucky to be alive.

She managed a smile and touched his face. Poor Daniel. I m a problem for you, aren t I?

A nice problem. Just go to sleep.

She closed her eyes, and he sat there until her hand slipped away. Only then did he quietly leave the room.

They arrived at Holland Park in good time for the noon meeting, to find that it had been canceled. They found only Roper and Dillon enjoying a cup of tea together in the computer room.

What s going on? Holley asked.

Ferguson and Miller have been called for a Cabinet Office discussion about Ali Selim.

Is there anything to suggest he s left the country? Dillon asked.

No, but I d say it s a strong possibility, Roper told him. Think of the times you ve been involved with beating the air traffic control system, dropping in and out again from some decaying airfield deep in the countryside.

True enough, Dillon said. He could be over the English Channel in a small plane inside two hours, and once in France, transfer to a jet, and the world s his oyster.

There was a chance that the President s Secret Service people would persuade him to cancel and carry straight on to Paris, though that would have left the Prime Minister with egg on his face.

But he s still coming? Sara asked.

Insisted on it, but the Prime Minister is as incandescent on the whole matter as Ferguson is with you two, Roper carried on.

You told him about last night? Holley said.

Come off it, Daniel, Dillon put in. Club rules, old son. Even if the threat is only a possibility, it s the kind of thing that touches us all. An attempted mugging is one thing, assault as a result of being targeted is something else again. Roper s right you should have squeezed the truth out of one of them.

Just shut up, the both of you. Sara was angry.

It wasn t Daniel s fault. So those two guys were pretty foul, but I shouldn t have been there in the first place. I was being childish and stupid. The truth is this is a whole different world I ve been plunged into.

Dillon put an arm about her shoulders. You ll be fine, girl dear, just give it time.

It s all right saying that, Sean. She smiled bitterly. But perhaps I was being targeted. Who knows?

Well, it won t happen again, because I ll see it doesn t. Holley turned to Roper. So what now?

I ve had orders to go down to the House of Commons and check out the terrace, and I m to take you three with me. Tony is going to take us in the van.

Well, that will certainly be a new experience, Sara said.

Not for Dillon, Roper said. He s something of an expert where the terrace is concerned, but I ll tell you about that when we get there. Let s get moving.

At the House of Commons, Tony stayed with the van while Roper and his friends joined the queue to get in. It was mainly constituents hoping to see their MP or people on official business. Tourists were being turned away by the security staff, obviously because of the pending arrival of the President. Some were complaining bitterly as they were firmly moved on.

A uniformed police inspector, obviously in charge, standing back surveying the scene, wore the campaign medal for Ireland, among others. He stared at Roper, then walked forward.

Major Roper, isn t it? What a pleasure to see you, sir. My name s Halloran. I was the military police sergeant major in charge of the entrance to the Portland Hotel in Belfast when you spent nine hours defusing that bomb in the foyer.

I remember you well. Roper shook hands. You were on that door when I went in, and you were still there when I came out.

A privilege to be there, Major. I ll never forget it.

We re here on behalf of the Cabinet Office to have a look at the security situation on the terrace.

I was notified about it, Major. I just didn t realize it was going to be you. Allow me to lead the way.

He left them on the terrace beside the Thames, which was surprisingly busy MPs enjoying a drink, waiters passing to and fro from what was called the Terrace Bar. It was very pleasant there, slightly chilly but the sun shining enough to bring the awnings out, and the famous tall Victorian lamps ranged along the parapet added to the scene.

I ve never been here before, Sara said.

Why is the carpet green here and red up there?

That s the House of Lords end, Dillon said, and ordered champagne for all of them from a passing waiter.

A grand place, this, restaurants and bars all over the show.

With remarkable speed, the waiter was back with four glasses of champagne on a tray, and they each took one. So what makes you such an expert on the terrace? Sara demanded.

An old story, my love, no big deal. I ve no wish to bore you.

What a humbug you are. Roper touched glasses with Sara. Some years ago, President Clinton graced the terrace with a visit, and the security services will never forgive Dillon for turning up as a waiter and serving canap s to President Clinton and the Prime Minister.

Sara turned in appeal to Holley, who shrugged. Before my time.

Which left only Dillon. But how did you do that? she asked.

It was very simple. The Salters dropped me in the river from a passing boat in the middle of the night. I hauled myself up to the terrace, hid in a storage room, and stayed there until the action started, when I came out dressed as a waiter.

Before she could say a word, Henry Frankel appeared, a file under his arm, and he was smiling hugely.

Captain Gideon, what a pleasure. He shook Sara s hand warmly. You exceed my expectations, and that doesn t happen very often. He turned to Dillon.

So, what have you got to say, Sean? Is our security acceptable?

Well, there s still twenty-six restaurants and bars, entrances and exits galore, MPs, workmen, cleaning staff in other words, far too many people, and you notice I haven t even mentioned the river?

Well, we d rather you didn t, Henry Frankel told him. We don t want to be alarmist.

I m just being realistic, Henry. In Belfast in the bad days of the Troubles, Catholic women of all ages queued up to get jobs as cleaning ladies in schools and factories that housed British troops. There were sympathizers to the Cause in the Royal Ulster Constabulary itself, and the civil service.

What are you trying to say? Frankel asked.

We live in a cosmopolitan society, Henry, and London is a splendid example. We ve left a vehicle in the underground garage, where people in overalls, obviously from many cultures, work as mechanics and sweepers. It was the same coming through the House of Commons to get here lots of cleaning women in the corridors, for example. The champagne I ordered? The waiter was obviously Muslim. People were talking and didn t notice that I ordered in Arabic, which pleased him, by the way. Did you notice, Daniel?

Holley shook his head. No. I didn t notice.

The place is a sieve, Henry, but so is the whole country, just like Belfast was. People can t help hearing conversations, good people who don t want to be involved with terrorism, but when you ve got a family, you ll respond to pressure for obvious reasons.

Everything you say is true, Henry Frankel said.

We can only travel hopefully. You are team leader, Giles, he said to Roper. Everybody loves a hero, and the George Cross certainly makes you that. We are keeping quiet about your exploits at Abusan, Sara. There are good reasons why, so no offense.

None taken, she said.

Blake Johnson tells me the President asked for you, Dillon, to be included in the luncheon, and you, Daniel. I believe he knows both of you.

True enough, Dillon acknowledged.

So the four of you return tomorrow morning. Harry Miller and Charles Ferguson have been ordered to stay at the Prime Minister s beck and call all day. Frankel chuckled.

I ve never seen Ferguson so fussed. He said to tell you, Giles, to make sure there s no more nonsense with Daniel and Sara, whatever that means. I d love to know, but I haven t got time to listen. Ciao, everyone, I ll see you in the morning, and he was gone.

Roper smiled at Sara. Well, there you are. You ve been warned to avoid bad company at all times.

Thanks very much, Holley told him. Can we go to lunch now?

Roper laughed and led the way out.