'Russian security must be told we might have a problem. I would handle it this way, if the Deputy Director approves. Allow the arrangements at the Dorchester to go through. That would be for the media.'

'And then?'

'Cancel the cocktail party on the Prince Regent, but only at the last moment. Any excuse will do. Change the dinner venue to somewhere like the Reform Club. I'm sure they'd love to have you, sir.'

The Prime Minister smiled. 'I'm certain of it.'

Carter said, 'And then?'

'The Premier is taken back, not to the Dorchester but to his Embassy.'

'But what would the final point be?' the Prime Minister said.

'That I would wait in the suite at the Dorchester with people of my choosing.'

'Dillon?'

'Yes, sir, and some friends of his. They did great service in Hazar. However, you wouldn't put them on the New Year's Honours List.'

'And they'd wait to see if Rashid or this man Bell turned up?'

'Yes, sir, but it's even better than that. I think the Deputy Director already sees what I'm getting at.'

Carter smiled. 'Yes.' And he turned to the Prime Minister. 'There's been no indictable proof against Rashid up to now. But if he comes, or one of his men, and we get him alive, he won't be untouchable any more. He must be getting desperate by now. At last, we can lay a trap for him instead of the other way around.'

'Then so be it.' The Prime Minister stood. 'It's in your hands, gentlemen. Mr Johnson, I'll speak to the President.'

Outside, it was cold. Dillon stood beside the Daimler smoking a cigarette as Ferguson, Blake and Carter approached.

Ferguson said to Carter, 'Can I give you a lift?'

'No, I feel like a walk, and sitting in the car with someone who once mortar-bombed Downing Street is more than I can take.'

Dillon said, 'Jesus, sir, the grand man you are, and absolutely right.'

In spite of himself, Carter laughed. 'Damn you, Dillon.' He moved away toward the Downing Street gates, paused and turned back, and he wasn't smiling. 'I don't care who he is, I don't care about his medals or his money. Stop him, Dillon.'

He walked away.

Ferguson phoned Rashid at the company offices and found he was not available. A secretary asked him to wait, and after a moment, Kate Rashid came to the phone.

'General Ferguson. What can I do for you?'

'I'll be in the Piano Bar at the Dorchester at eight o'clock.'

'Am I supposed to be interested?'

'I'd earnestly advise it, Lady Kate. Bring the Earl.'

He put down the phone.

She reported to Paul, who was down at the Dauncey Arms with Bell and Michael, and told him of her conversation with Ferguson. 'I'll handle it, if you want me to,' she said.

'No,' Paul said. 'We'll come up this afternoon. I'm not going to leave you on your own with Dillon and Ferguson. Never underestimate the General. I'll see you later.'

He switched off his phone. Michael said, 'Trouble?'

'Ferguson wants a meeting. We'll go back.'

'All of us?'

'Oh, yes.' He turned to Bell. 'You'll have to keep your head down.' He smiled at Betty Moody. 'We're heading out, love.'

As they sat in the Rolls-Royce, the glass divider closed, the Earl said to Bell, 'I think you'd better not stay at the South Audley house.'

'Where would you suggest?'

'Michael has a motor cruiser parked at a place called Hangman's Wharf at Wapping. You can stay there overnight.'

'That sounds good to me.'

'This meeting, brother,' Michael asked. 'What does Ferguson want?'

'Whatever Dillon wants. We'll see.' Paul Rashid closed his eyes and leaned back.

But in London, Dillon had been doing some thinking himself. He had hooked up to Ferguson's computer and trawled the list of the Rashid company's assets. Then he called Harry Salter at the Dark Man.

'Harry. Michael Rashid has this boat parked at Hangman's Wharf in Wapping. You know everything that's going on along the river. What's the story?'

'Let me check my computer.' After a while, Salter came back, laughing. 'It's called Hazar.'

'Well, that fits. Is Billy there?'

'Yes.'

'Put us on conference.'

After explaining the situation, Dillon said, 'So he must have Bell tucked up somewhere. What do you think? South Audley Street or Hangman's Wharf?'

'Could be either,' Billy said. 'I'll check out South Audley for an hour or two this evening. If there's no result, I'll try the Hazar.'

That evening, Kate Rashid arrived first, to find Dillon waiting for her.

'What? No piano this evening, Dillon? I'm disappointed. I came all this way just to hear you play. You'd never know that your true vocation is for killing people.'

'But not torture, Kate. Not killing a young, decent man in the most horrific way. Bronsby deserved better.'

'Well, fuck you, too,' she said.

'Jesus, girl, did they tell you that at Oxford?'

In spite of herself, she showed a glimmer of a smile. 'Oh, posh girls can be worse than the tarts.'

'How exciting.'

He lit a cigarette, and she reached and took it from his mouth and smoked it for a moment. 'You killed my brother.'

'Who'd arranged for Bronsby to be skinned, and you and the Earl were there. Do you mean to tell me you approve of one and hate the other?'

She took a deep breath. 'Not really. I just hate you for George's death.'

'No, Kate, no, you don't. That's the problem.'

Billy and his uncle sat in a Shogun in South Audley Street, Billy at the wheel, Harry reading the Evening Standard. He happened to glance up and saw a Mini emerge from a side entrance to the house.

'It's Bell and Michael Rashid, Billy. Get moving.'

Paul Rashid appeared in the Piano Bar just as Ferguson and Johnson walked in. He looked well, tanned from the Hazar sun, in a cream linen suit and the usual Guards tie.

'General Ferguson.' He didn't shake hands. 'Dillon. Mr Johnson.'

They all sat down.

Ferguson said, 'It's over.'

'What is?' Rashid asked.

'You know very well. I thought I'd give you one last chance: Stop it now. You've got away with a great deal, but not again, I can promise you.'

Paul spoke softly and deliberately. 'I'm a great believer in family. I had a brother, a greatly loved brother, killed in Hazar.'

'If you'll excuse me, My Lord,' Dillon said. 'The fact that you can make such a fuss about that after what you did to Bronsby indicates that you're seriously disturbed.' Kate tossed her glass of champagne in his face. Dillon ran his tongue over his lips and reached for a napkin. 'What a waste.'

Just then, his mobile rang. 'Excuse me.' He got up and walked away. 'Dillon.'

Billy said, 'Harry and I have followed Michael Rashid and Aidan Bell to Hangman's Wharf. They've boarded the Hazar. Do you want to tell Fergiison?'

'No, this is our business. I didn't want Ferguson to know, in case he says don't do it. I'll be with you in half an hour.'

He returned to the table. 'Sorry, I've got to go. I'm sure you'll handle things here, General. Tell them we know about their plans for the boat trip, and they'll never get away with it. They've come to the end of the line.'

'Do you need me?' Blake asked.

'Not this time, old son.' He looked at Paul Rashid. 'I'd listen to the General, I really would.' Then he turned and went out. Smiling.

It was raining, driving in across the Thames at Hangman's Wharf, as Billy and Harry parked. Billy went round and opened the tailgate of the Shogun and produced an umbrella.

'Well, that's nice,' Harry said. 'I tell you what. It doesn't make you look like Bogart in The Big Sleep.'

'Yes, well, I do have a shooter in my pocket,' Billy said. 'So I suppose that's all that matters.'

On board the Hazar, Bell and Michael Rashid had a drink. Rashid said, 'Right, you have a quiet night. I'll be in touch tomorrow, and tomorrow night, unless things change, will be the big one.'