"Strange you should say that," Asta told him. "I'd have thought that was exactly what Mountbatten was trying to do back in forty-four."

He roared with laughter and raised his glass. "More wine, Alfredo."

"What do you suggest?" Morgan asked.

"Find this silver Bible. When you have that, you have the Covenant."

"And that must be somewhere at the Castle at Loch Dhu according to what Tanner said," Asta put in.

"Exactly. There's a problem. I had my London lawyer check on the situation at the house the moment I received your fax. It's rented out at the moment to a Sheik from Trucial Oman, a Prince of the Royal Family, so there's nothing to be done there. He's in residence and he won't be leaving for another month. My lawyer has leased it in your name for three months from then."

"Fine," Morgan said. "That gives me plenty of time to clear the decks where business is concerned. That Bible must be there somewhere."

"I instructed my lawyer to get straight up there and see this Lady Katherine Rose, the sister, to do the lease personally. He raised the question of the Bible, told her he'd heard the legend of how all the Lairds carried it into battle. When he phoned me he said she's old and a bit confused and told him she hadn't seen the thing in years."

"There is one thing," Asta said. "According to Tony Jackson, he said to Tanner, 'So the Bible went back to Loch Dhu?' "

Morgan cut in, "And Tanner replied, 'You could say that.' "

Asta nodded. "And then Tony said he started to laugh. I'd say that's rather strange."

"Strange or not, that Bible must be there somewhere," Luca said. "You'll find it, Carlo." He stood up. "Now we eat."

Marco Russo was standing by the door in the hall and as they passed him, Luca said, "You can take Marco with you in case you need a little muscle." He patted Marco's face. "The Highlands of Scotland, Marco, you'll have to wrap up."

"Whatever you say, Capo."

Marco opened the dining room door where two waiters were in attendance. Back in the reception room Alfredo cleared the wine bottle and glasses and took them into the kitchen, putting them beside the sink for the maid to wash later. He said to the cook, "I'm going now," went out, lit a cigarette, and walked down through the gardens to the staff quarters. Alfredo Ponti was an excellent waiter, but an even better policeman, one of the new dedicated breed imported from mainland Italy. He'd managed to obtain the job with Luca three months previously.

Usually he phoned from outside when he wanted to contact his superiors, but the other two houseboys, the cook, and the maid were working, so for the moment he was alone. In any case, what he had overheard seemed important so he decided to take a chance, lifted the receiver on the wall phone at the end of the corridor, and dialed a number in Palermo. It was answered at once.

"Gagini, it's me, Ponti. I've got something. Carl Morgan appeared tonight with his stepdaughter. I overheard them tell a most curious story to Luca. Have you ever heard of the Chungking Covenant?"

Paolo Gagini, who was a Major in the Italian Secret Intelligence Service from Rome posing as a business man in Palermo, said, "That's a new one. Let me put the tape recorder on. Thank God for that photographic memory of yours. Right, start talking. Tell me everything."

Which Alfredo did in some detail. When he had finished, Gagini said, "Good work, though I can't see it helping us much. I'll be in touch. Take care."

Alfredo replaced the receiver and went to bed.

Gagini, in his apartment in Palermo, sat thinking. He could let them know in Rome, not that anyone would be very interested. Everyone knew what Carl Morgan was, but he was also very legitimate. In any case, anything he did in Scotland was the responsibility of the British authorities, which made him think of his oldest friend in British intelligence. Gagini smiled. He loved this one. He got out his code book and found the number of the Ministry of Defence in London.

When the operator answered he said, "Give me Brigadier Charles Ferguson, Priority One, please."

It was perhaps two hours later when Morgan and Asta had retired that Alfredo was shaken awake to find Marco bending over him.

"The Capo wants you."

"What is it?"

Marco shrugged. "Search me. He's on the terrace."

He went out and Alfredo dressed quickly and went after him. He was aware of no particular apprehension. Things had gone so well for three months now and he'd always been so careful, but as a precaution, he placed a small automatic in his waistband.

He found Luca sitting in a cane chair, Marco leaning against a pillar. The old man said, "You made a phone call earlier."

Alfredo's mouth went dry. "Yes, my cousin in Palermo."

"You're lying," Marco said. "We have an electronic tracking machine. It registered the no return bar code so the number can't be traced."

"And that only applies to the security services," Luca said.

Alfredo turned and ran through the garden for the fence and Marco drew a silenced pistol.

"Don't kill him," Luca cried.

Marco shot him in the leg and the young man went down but turned on the ground, pulling the automatic from his waistband. Marco, with little choice in the matter, shot him between the eyes.

Luca went forward, leaning on his cane. "Poor boy, so young. They will keep trying. Get rid of him, Marco."

He turned and walked away.

Ferguson was at his desk when Hannah Bernstein came in and put a file on his desk. "Everything there is on Carl Morgan."

Ferguson sat back. "Tell me."

"His father is a retired Brigadier General, but his mother is the niece of Giovanni Luca which means that, in spite of Yale and all the war hero stuff in Vietnam and his hotels and construction business, he's fronting for the Mafia."

"Some people would say he was the new, legitimate face of the Mafia."

"With the greatest respect, Brigadier, that's a load of crap."

"Why, Chief Inspector, you said a rude word. How encouraging."

"A thug is a thug even if he does wear suits by Brioni and plays polo with Prince Charles."

"I couldn't agree more. Have you checked on Loch Dhu Castle and the situation there?"

"Yes, sir, it's at present leased to Prince Ali ben Yusef from the Oman. He'll be there for another month."

"Not much joy there. Arab royal families are always the very devil to deal with."

"Something else, sir. Carl Morgan has already taken a lease on the place for three months when the Prince leaves."

"Now why would he do that?" Ferguson frowned and then nodded. "The Bible. It's got to be."

"You mean he needs to search for it, sir?"

"Something like that. What else can you tell me about the estate?"

"It's owned by a Lady Rose, Campbell's sister. He was never married. She lives in the gate lodge. She's eighty years of age and in poor health." Hannah looked in the file. "I see there's also a small hunting lodge to rent. Ardmurchan Lodge it's called. About ten miles from the main house in the deer forest."

Ferguson nodded. "Look, let's try the simple approach. Book the Lear out of Gatwick as soon as you like and fly up there and descend on Lady Katherine. Express an interest in this shooting lodge on my behalf. Tell her you've always had an interest in the area because your grandfather served with Campbell in the war. Then raise the question of the Bible. For all we know it could be lying on a coffee table."

"All right, sir, I'll do as you say." The phone went on his desk and she picked it up, listened, and put it down again. "Dillon is having his final check at the hospital."

"I know," Ferguson said.

"About the Bible, sir? Do you really think it could be just lying around?"