The Furies

ARRIVAL

The granddaughter can't get time off so it's down to Ambra and me. The ambassador offers to get us the VIP lounge but Daniela dismisses such frippery with an "Ach!" and a wave of the arm. And so here we are at the arrivals gate surrounded by all the paraphernalia of a busy airport — Starbucks, Pizza Huts, Real Irish pubs — hemmed in by boisterous children, chauffeurs carrying placards, and a fat, noisy German family. You understand she's a small, frail woman, especially against the obese creatures bellowing around us like primeval dinosaurs. Anyway, there's something in her spirit, some vivacity; I can feel it like body heat. Ambra has given up trying to look cool and sophisticated and is acting like a child waiting for Santa.

I go hunting for an arrivals screen and come back with the news that the Aeroflot will be half an hour late. Daniela pats me on the arm, tells me to calm down and it wouldn't be Max if he wasn't late and what's an extra half an hour after sixty years?

And all the time I'm wondering if this is a big mistake. They haven't seen each other for sixty years. Will two such strong characters hit it off all over again? Will they even recognize each other?

A hundred years pass and I'm at the nail-biting stage, but at last AF 101 lands and ten minutes later the first passengers trickle through the departure gate: a smattering of heavily built Russian businessmen; a family running to the arms of Grandma; holidaymakers in T-shirts declaring that they are KGB, that they've been to the Winter Palace; a few young couples drooping with tiredness and a phalanx of elderly tourists bursting with energy. And after ten minutes the flow begins to ebb.

We wait another five minutes as the flow declines to a trickle and I feel myself sliding into a depression. Ambra is being determinedly cheerful. The wrinkles around Daniela's mouth seem to deepen as the minutes pass.

Then she sees him. She sees him before Ambra and me. She gives a little gasp.

He's had his hair cut, and he's wearing a gray suit, neatly pressed. He has a brown shoulder bag, probably made of brand-new deerskin. If I know Max, it will be stuffed with UFO reports. He has seen Daniela: The recognition is instant.

Instant recognition, after sixty years.

He's beginning to cry now, as they approach each other. It sets Daniela off, too.

And it's a trick of the light, but Max's hair is no longer white, it's blond. And his wrinkles have somehow disappeared, and the burdens of sixty years have fallen away like a sack of rocks, and he's a young man again, and by some weird illusion of space and time the airport and the crowds have dissolved into the ether.

And now Ambra's eyes are wet as she taps my arm, and we tiptoe away, leaving Max and Daniela alone on their Alpine meadow.

NEMESIS

The mobile phone. At three in the morning. Siggy buries her head under a blanket. Sharp stumbles to a wardrobe and wriggles hastily into a dressing gown. His mother, maybe? Or Robert, with that overlarge motorbike of his? No, Robert's on holiday — damn, he's climbing somewhere …

Fool's mate, the White Queen flashing red. Oh God.

"Hello, Lewis." Icy air when he opens the outer door. Across the valley, the Glacier du Geant, its jagged blocks throwing harsh shadows in the moonlight. A line of lights up the Aiguille du Midi. A car in his driveway, with two dark figures inside. And on his doorstep, a ghost. "Still wearing your hair long, I see. I've been watching your TV series. Loved the Genghis Khan episode. You're really very good, a natural. I guess you made it after all."

"Hello, Jocelyn. It's been a struggle but I'm getting there. And the answer is no."

"It's been over a year. Can I come in?"

"Look what happened the last time I let you in."

"Remember you had a problem with the U-boat loading lists, and some embarked from Norway, not Denmark? Please let me in. This cold's killing me."

"You should try Khatanga. No small talk, Jocelyn? No juicy scandals in Six? How's Ambra getting on?"

"You know I can't talk about things like that. Please, or I'll drop dead in front of you."

Sharp waits.

"The last I heard Ambra was in Tajikistan. There, I've broken the Official Secrets Act just for you."

"Tajikistan. Is she doing something dangerous?"

"Yes, dodging trucks on the Tamyr Highway. Please!"

Siggy appears at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a short white dressing gown. Sharp calls up, "It's an old friend, darling."

"Would you like a coffee, old friend?"

"Thanks, but I'm not staying," Jocelyn replies, shivering.

Sharp leads her into a warm, carpeted, book-lined study. Red leather armchairs and wood carvings are scattered around, and a table is sprinkled with maps, Alpine crystals, agates, and amethysts. There's a light smell of pinewood. She shakes snow off her coat. He looks at her black briefcase and feels himself tensing up. He turns a knob on a woodstove and the fire bursts into life.

"And U-234, which surrendered, was found to be carrying a ton of uranium oxide to Japan? And to this day we don't know why? And the navy CinC meetings with Hitler nowhere mention its mission, which probably means it was so secret they didn't record it?"

"Jocelyn, I don't think you heard me. I've discovered freedom. I've had it with that stuff."

"You're right, Lewis, I didn't hear you. You remember Miki's last words? There's a big surprise coming?"

"Look around you. For the first time in my life things are going well. I have a contract for another series that'll clear the mortgage, I'm about to become a father, and …"

"That's wonderful, I'm so glad for you. And the name Hosokawa? It was on Petrov's list. Turns out he captained a Japanese submarine that sank off Papua New Guinea."

"On your broomstick, lady."

"Lewis, we need you in LA right away." She pulls out a laptop with trembling hands.