Davenport leaped up as Danny entered the room, and this time he did shake hands. Danny was momentarily taken aback by his appearance. He was now clean-shaven, and wearing a well-tailored suit and a smart open-necked shirt. Was he about to return the £300,000?

"Sorry to barge in on you like this," said Davenport. "I wouldn't have done so if it wasn't a bit of an emergency."

"Please don't concern yourself," said Danny as he sat in the chair opposite him. "How can I help?"

Molly placed a tray on the side table and poured Davenport a cup of coffee.

"Cream or milk, Mr. Davenport?" she asked.

"Neither, thank you."

"Sugar, Mr. Davenport?"

"No, thank you."

"Would you like a chocolate biscuit?" asked Molly.

"No, thank you," Davenport said, patting his stomach.

Danny sat back and smiled. He wondered if Molly would be quite so awestruck if she realized that she had just served the son of a car-park attendant with the Grimsby Borough Council.

"Well, just let me know if you want anything else, Mr. Davenport," said Molly before backing out of the room, having quite forgotten to offer Danny his usual hot chocolate. Danny waited for the door to close. "Sorry about that," he said. "She's normally quite sane."

"Don't worry, old chap," said Davenport. "One gets used to it."

Not for much longer, thought Danny. "Now, how can I help?" he asked.

"I want to invest a rather large sum of money in a business venture. Only temporary, you understand. Not only will I repay you within a few weeks at the outside, but," he said, looking up at the McTaggart above the fireplace, "I'll also be able to reclaim my paintings at the same time."

Danny would have been sad to lose his recent acquisitions, as he'd been surprised how quickly he'd become attached to them. "I'm sorry, how thoughtless of me," he said, suddenly aware that the room was full of Davenport 's old pictures. "Be assured, they will be returned the moment the loan is repaid."

"That could turn out to be a lot sooner than I had originally anticipated," said Davenport. "Especially if you were able to help me out with this little enterprise."

"What sort of sum did you have in mind?" asked Danny.

"A million," said Davenport tentatively. "The problem is that I've only got a week to come up with the money."

"And what would your collateral be this time?" asked Danny.

"My house in Redcliffe Square."

Danny recalled Davenport 's words the last time they had met: My home? No, never. Out of the question, don't even think about it. "And you say that you will pay the full sum back within a month, using your home as collateral?"

"Within a month, it's guaranteed-a racing certainty."

"And if you fail to pay back the million in that time?"

"Then, just like my pictures, the house is yours."

"We have a deal," said Danny. "And as you've only got a few days to come up with the money, I'd better get straight on to my lawyers and instruct them to draw up a contract."

When they left the drawing room and walked out into the hallway, they found Molly standing by the front door clutching Davenport 's overcoat.

"Thank you," said Davenport after she had helped him on with his coat and opened the door.

"I'll be in touch," said Danny, not shaking hands with Davenport as he stepped out onto the path. Molly almost curtsied.

Danny turned around and headed back to his study. "Molly, I have some calls to make, so I could be a few minutes late for lunch," he said over his shoulder. When he received no reply, he turned back to see his housekeeper standing at the door chatting to a woman.

"Is he expecting you?" asked Molly.

"No, he isn't," replied Ms. Bennett. "I came on the off-chance."

THE ALARM WENT off at 2 A.M. but Danny wasn't asleep. He jumped out of bed and quickly put on the pants, T-shirt, socks, slacks and trainers that he'd laid out on the chair by the window. He didn't turn on the light.

He checked his watch: six minutes past two. He closed the bedroom door and walked slowly downstairs. He opened the front door to see his car parked by the curb. Although he couldn't see him, he knew Big Al would be seated behind the wheel. Danny looked around-there were one or two lights still on in the square, but no one to be seen. He climbed into the car but didn't speak. Big Al switched on the ignition and drove for a hundred yards before he put on the side lights.

Neither of them spoke as Big Al turned right and headed for the Embankment. He had done the run five times during the past week; twice during the day, three times at night-what he called "night ops." But the dry runs were over, and tonight the full operation would be carried out. Big Al was treating the whole thing like a military exercise, and his nine years in the army were being put to good use. During the day, the journey averaged around forty-three minutes, but at night he could cover the same distance in twenty-nine, never once exceeding the speed limit.

As they progressed past the House of Commons and along the north side of the Thames, Danny concentrated on what needed to be done once they had reached the target area. They drove through the City and into the East End. Danny's concentration was broken only for a moment when they passed a large construction site with a vast advertising hoarding displaying a magnificent mock-up of what Wilson House would look like once it was completed: sixty luxury flats, thirty affordable dwellings it promised, nine already sold, including the penthouse. Danny smiled.

Big Al continued on down Mile End Road before turning left at a signpost indicating Stratford, The home of the 2012 Olympics. Eleven minutes later, he turned off the road and onto a gravel track. He switched the lights off, as he knew each twist and turn, almost every stone between there and the target area.

At the end of the track he drove past a sign that read, Private Land : Keep Off. He kept on going; after all, the land was owned by Danny, and would still be his for another eight days. Big Al brought the car to a halt behind a small mound, switched off the engine and pressed a button. The side window purred down. They sat still and listened, but the only sounds were night noises. During an afternoon recce they'd come across the occasional dog walker and a group of kids kicking a football around, but now there was nothing, not even a night owl to keep them company.

After a couple of minutes Danny touched Big Al's elbow. They climbed out of the car and walked around to the boot. Big Al opened the boot while Danny slipped off his trainers. Big Al lifted the box out of the back and placed it on the ground, just as they had done the night before, when Danny had walked the course to see if he could locate the seventy-one white pebbles they had put in cracks, holes and crevices during the day. He had managed to find fifty-three. He'd do better tonight. Another dry run that afternoon had given him a chance to check the ones he'd missed.

In daylight he could cover the three acres in just over two hours. Last night had taken three hours, seventeen minutes, while tonight would take even longer because of the number of times he would have to drop to his knees.

It was a clear, still night, as promised by the weather forecasters, who were predicting light showers in the morning. Like any good farmer planting his seeds, Danny had chosen the day, even the hour, carefully. Big Al removed the black jumpsuit from the box and handed it to Danny, who unzipped the front and climbed in. Even this simple exercise had been practiced several times in the dark. Big Al then passed him the rubber boots, followed by the gloves, the mask, the torch and finally the small plastic container marked "Hazardous."