In his suite at the Albany Regency, he checked the room safe in the wardrobe in which he had left the Walther and silencer and all his ammunition. Everything was in order, and he took off his jacket and tie, opened his laptop, and tapped in to some of his files, brain-storming in a way. Miller and Blake Johnson were in New York for the Putin appearance at the UN, that was a fact. That Frank Barry and Jack Flynn were in New York, too, seemed fortuitous. To be candid, it was as if it was ordained. Highly trained in weaponry over the years, "too handy with a gun," Caitlin had said, fleeing to America to avoid the prospect of seven years in jail for armed robbery. A lot could be done with that. He considered it, then thought of his conversation with Max Chekhov about the Belov operation in New York, especially his head of security, Mikhail Potanin. From the sound of him, he'd been Moscow Mafia in his time, which meant he was capable of most things.

Before any final planning was possible, it was necessary for Caitlin Daly to sound out the cell and see what they thought, but the presence of Barry and Flynn together in New York titillated him. If they took care of Blake Johnson and Harry Miller on Friday…

He clicked on Charles Ferguson and saw that he was at a dinner at the Garrick Club that evening. Then he checked on Monica Starling and saw that she had a faculty dinner with Professor George Dunkley of Corpus Christi College that night at a country hotel called Raintree House. He looked it up and discovered it was six miles out of Cambridge.

The audacity of what he was thinking appealed to him. He thought some more about it, then sat by the window, looking out at the night and the rooftops of Shepherd's Market, and called Caitlin Daly on his Codex.

She was deeply cautious, waiting for something to be said. "It's Daniel, Caitlin."

She laughed, relief in her voice. "Forgive me, I'll need to get used to this phone. You got back okay, obviously. You didn't tell me where you're staying."

"A nice, quiet, respectable hotel near Shepherd's Market."

"Ah, Mayfair, I like it there."

"I'll get right to the point. Two of the people on our list, Harry Miller and Blake Johnson, will be in New York on Friday, and I was thinking of your people, Barry and Flynn, who you helped to get out of London when prison was in view. 'Too handy with a gun,' you said. How do you think they'd react if you suggested they do the job on Miller and Johnson?"

"They could be up for it," she said. "They've always been hard men. Lucky to stay out of prison years ago. The head of security at our place in New York has told me he's sure that, on the side, they're hoodlums for hire."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I speak to them most weeks. Their membership in the cell still means a great deal to them. I'd be willing to put it to them."

"I know it's too late for you to speak to the other four tonight, but it's only six in the evening in New York. I'm not trying to put any pressure on you, but time is of the essence. Could you speak to them tonight? No point in me calling, I'm nothing to them."

"I was always the leader, Daniel, guiding them as I saw fit. As far as I'm concerned, though, the show of hands has to be one hundred percent and nothing less. I have only four to stand in front of now, and if we are to agree to your plan of campaign against Ferguson and his people, it is logical that I should speak to Barry and Flynn. But I must make one thing clear. If we agree and they don't, all bets are off."

"Yes, I can see that. I can also see that I'm in your hands on this. By the way, I haven't asked about your weapons status."

"We were well supplied with small arms, explosives, bomb-making parts. It was a while ago, of course, but it should all still be under lock and key in a large cupboard in the presbytery wine cellar. I'm going to go now, Daniel, think out my approach and speak to Barry and Flynn. If I'm lucky, I might even find them together. You must be tired. You were, after all, in Moscow this morning. I'll speak to you tomorrow."

And she was right. Suddenly, he felt bushed. He poured a whiskey for a nightcap, drank it while peering out of the window. So far, so good, but tomorrow was another day. And he went to bed.

The following day, Chekhov phoned him just after breakfast. "Daniel, my friend, how goes it?"

"It goes very well. Where are you?"

"In my apartment. Infinitely preferable to Moscow, I'll tell you. To look out of my window at Hyde Park warms my heart. I love this city."

"Did Lermov say good-bye nicely?"

"Frankly, I think he's more interested in his trip to New York than in your enterprise at the moment. I believe he takes it as a sign of great favor from the Prime Minister."

"You surprise me. I would have imagined him above that sort of thing."

"I'm a true cynic in such matters. People like Lermov, men of huge brain and much learning, often express contempt for the grace-and-favor aspect of success until it's offered to them. I suppose he would love to be a general, if you see my point. Of course, what would really seal it for him would be your success with the business at hand. Can you tell me what's happening?"

Holley had no reason not to. "I went to church, in a manner of speaking, and saw the lady in question. She embraces the idea of activating her cell, listened to what I told her of Ferguson and company, and damned them all. She can't stop hating the British, Max. Her father was killed in front of her when she was ten, her mother raped."

"It sounds like something out of a Bosnian nightmare," Chekhov said. "What do the members of the cell say?"

"I'm waiting to hear. The only problem is that two of them had to clear off to New York with the law breathing down their necks."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, everything obviously depends upon what her people decide, but, if it's favorable, I think I'm going to need your help."

"In what way?" Chekhov asked.

Holley explained about Barry and Flynn, and when he was finished Chekhov said, "Where would I come in?"

"The way I see it, one of them will hit Blake Johnson in Quogue and the other take Miller in New York. This guy you employ at Belov… Potanin, I think his name was?"

"Mikhail Potanin. What about him?"

"The impression you gave me was that he was capable of anything. I'd like him to monitor Barry and Flynn. Don't even try to say no, Max. I know the way you oligarchs rose to power, and it was on the backs of a lot of men like Potanin."

"So who's arguing? Let's see first if Barry and Flynn agree, and, if so, I'll put it in Potanin's lap."

"I'll be in touch the moment I hear. Is Ivanov in?"

"Making himself at home. He'll have all week to make his move until Lermov gets in at the weekend. He's too eager, that boy."

Half an hour later, Caitlin called. "How are you?" she asked. "Did you have a good night?"

"More to the point, did you?"

"Daniel, they went for it hook, line, and sinker. Flynn lives in Greenwich Village, but Barry has a staff flat at the Refuge. I called him first, and Flynn was with him. Barry put the telephone on speaker, and I was able to discuss it with both of them. They admitted to having done contract work in the past."

"There's an old Yorkshire saying: 'I don't mind a thief as long as he's an honest thief.' From the sound of them, they'll do for me. The Refuge where Barry has staff quarters, I take it they have computer facilities?"

"Of course."

"Look up Harry Miller online and you'll find a photo of him walking along a London street. Send Barry a copy. While I have you, you can give me their addresses and mobile numbers."

"Is that necessary?"