He called to the steward for another drink and started to work through the article again.

Ferguson was right. The kebabs were excellent, and they ate with enthusiasm.

Billy said, 'All right, so we survive, which I certainly intend, we survive and get back to Wapping in one piece. What happens then, General? What's Rashid's next move?'

'Dillon?'

Dillon sat back. 'It has to have something to do with Bell. That's why he isn't here.'

'Seen getting onto a Rashid Gulfstream at Haman military airbase, booked for London,' Villiers said.

'Nice of you to tell us.'

'I decided to save it in case you didn't want dessert.'

Blake said, 'Come on, Sean, what is his agenda?'

Dillon lit a cigarette. 'He failed with the American President. He failed with the Elders. Maybe this time his target really is the obvious one. The Russian Premier's due soon in London, isn't he, Charles?'

Ferguson said, 'Come on, even he wouldn't try that now. With all the new security? Impossible.'

'You think so?' Blake shook his head. 'It should have been impossible to get as close as Bell got to the President on Nantucket. With the greatest respect to my fine Irish friend Sean Dillon here, if I gave him the job, he'd find a way. People like him always do.'

'Thank you. I love you, too,' Dillon said. 'But he's right. Rashid would go for the Premier without a second thought.'

'And that's where Bell comes in?' Harry Salter asked.

'Well, the other year, we had the President in London. Two people, Loyalist terrorists, a man and a woman, tried to knock him off. I managed to stop them, with some assistance, and I still bear the scars.'

'What's your point?' Blake said.

'That, to use an English underworld phrase Harry and Billy know well, you don't need to go in team-handed. One person is enough, two at the most.'

'And that's true,' Billy said.

'Yes, but we're talking as if Rashid had this agenda,' Ferguson told them. 'Maybe he's had enough.'

'General,' Sean Dillon said, 'if you think that, you'll believe anything.'

'All right,' Ferguson said. 'Coffee, then let's go.'

'Tea,' Dillon said. 'I'm Irish. It goes with the rain, General.'

From the Gulfstream, Bell called Rashid on his coded mobile and caught him at the villa.

'Listen, I've had a thought.'

'Tell me.'

Bell went through the article in the Telegraph. 'There's a real opportunity here.'

'All right, but not the Prime Minister,' Rashid said. 'Just the Premier. The minute you're in London, go into the situation. I'll be over in a day or two anyway. I'll send instructions to give you any support you need.'

'And Dillon and company?'

'Well, I'm hoping they'll be distant history after tonight.' Bell laughed. Rashid said, 'You find this amusing?'

'Only the idea of Sean Dillon being distant history. If he's on your case, he's your worst nightmare. Having said that, I'll get on with it.'

On board the Sultan, Hal Stone stood in the stern, drinking a glass of cold beer, and Ali hovered. It was raining again, a fine spray, and Stone was enjoying it. He'd have to go soon, of course, back to Cambridge and students instead of being here and what he was involved with.

There was a splash in the water as Ali poured him another beer, and as Stone turned, a man pulled himself over the rail, a knife between his teeth. Ali cried out, 'Sahb!'

Hal Stone saw, and in the same moment reached for the Browning under his left arm. He pulled it out and as the man took his knife from between his teeth shot him so that he went back over the rail. Another appeared. Stone fired again, but the Browning jammed. He grabbed Ali by the shoulder. 'The cabin. Come on.' Then he pulled him away.

Inside, he slammed and locked the door, then unloaded the Browning and took out the clip. As he discharged his bullets, someone started to kick the door in.

Dillon and the others walked down through Hazar, ready for anything and finding nothing. They reached the harbour, found the motor launch, got in and cast off, making for the Sultan. They coasted in.

The stern light was on under the awning, and it was quiet as Billy climbed up the ladder to tie up. Harry followed him, then Ferguson, Blake and Dillon.

At that instant, Hal Stone managed to reload the Browning and fired through the cabin door. The next moment, four Arabs ran out of the darkness to attack Ferguson's party.

Dillon fired at one of them, but the man, in a drug-crazed frenzy, rammed into him and drove him over the rail. Dillon took a deep breath, went under the Sultan and surfaced on the other side.

There were a couple of shots. He pulled himself up the ladder, moved in behind a crouching Arab with a knife in one hand, took his neck and twisted. There was a crack and the man slumped.

Silence. Someone said in Arabic, 'Hamid, are you there?'

'Of course,' Dillon answered and stepped forward.

He took the man, broke his right arm so that the Arab dropped the pistol and put him over the rail. It was quiet. Dillon said, 'It's me. Are you all there?'

Ferguson called, 'On the deck, but in one piece.'

Dillon said, 'Let's check if the Professor is all right, then I'd suggest we get out of this sodding place.'

'An excellent idea,' Ferguson called.

Later, Rashid came into the living room at the villa and said to Kate, 'No go. The attack on the boat failed. Ferguson, Dillon and the others have just left for London.'

'So what do we do now?' Kate Rashid asked.

'Go home, my darling… and try again,' her brother said.

London

The Thames In London, Bell spent time travelling up and down the Thames, following the itinerary for the Russian Premier as laid out by the Daily Telegraph.

He went on a trip to the Millennium Dome, then returned to the Savoy Pier. He thought about it and did the same trip the following day. There was another article discussing the visit, this time in the Daily Mail. He read it meticulously, noted that the riverboat for the trip was called Prince Regent, and that the catering was in the hands of the Orsini brothers.

He sat by the fireplace in the drawing room on South Audley Street and a plan began to form in his mind.

Rashid and Kate left in the second plane after he had made various deals with his people in the Empty Quarter. What he was leaving was a situation so difficult that neither the Council of Elders nor the Americans, nor the Russians, would be able to handle it themselves. He also arranged for the retrieval of George's body and its return to England.

In London, Dillon went to check on Hannah. She was sitting up in bed, and by chance Bellamy was there, checking her over. Dillon excused himself and waited outside. Finally, the Professor came out.

'How is she?' Dillon asked.

'Better. It's still a wait-and-see situation as to how much back to normal she'll be. On the other hand, I remember when Norah Bell stabbed you in the back. You made it through.'

'I know. On a good day, you're a genius.'

Bellamy sighed. 'How many times have I saved your hide, Sean? I can't always succeed. Try and take care.'

He went out and Dillon thought about it, then knocked on Hannah Bernstein's door. 'How are you?'

'Pretty rotten. But I've only got to look at you to see it's been pretty rotten for you, too. Tell me about it.'

He opened the window, lit a cigarette and sat beside her as he talked. When he was finished, she said, 'Young Billy's turning out to be a star.'

'You could say that. Bellamy says you'll make it.'

'So does my father, though I may not be able to run around Hyde Park again in the morning.'

'Well, you can't have everything.'

'As to Rashid, you might want to take a look at the papers. I read a lot of them every day out of boredom. Look at the pile over there. You should find a Daily Telegraph. I'd say it might interest you.' He read it and sat there thinking. 'It could fit,' she said.