A moment later, Ferguson had to answer his Codex. He listened for a few moments, then said, 'Excellent.'

He said to the others, 'That was Roper. The Pakistan Embassy has agreed to our visit. A Military Police Colonel named Ahmed Atep will be our contact, Major. Parry and Lacey have been alerted and are already on their way to Farley to get the Gulfstream ready.'

'And what about the dealers I suggested you meet?' Holley asked.

'Roper's emailed them and said it was your personal request that they co-operate.'

'Has he had replies?'

'Yes, from this Dak Khan and Jose Fernandez, who both indicated that they would help in any way possible.' Ferguson shrugged. 'They probably think there might be money in it.'

'And Jemal Hamid?'

'Apparently killed in a roadside ambush of a convoy close to the border some weeks ago.'

'On the Pakistan side?'

'It would appear so.'

Holley shrugged. 'That's the way it goes. It's a thoroughly dangerous adventure, General. When do you go?'

Ferguson glanced at his watch. 'As soon as we're done with lunch. So let's order, gentlemen.' Lancy asked for his bill, paid the waiter and walked away, not only satisfied, but excited. His Mercedes was parked in a nearby mews and he went and sat behind the wheel and reported in to the Preacher. Professor Hassan Shah was in the garden of his house, sitting at a table on the terrace, marking a student's thesis.

'Excellent,' he said when Lancy was finished. 'You've done brilliantly. Is there anything to report on Malik?'

'I've had a word with a few of the Brotherhood with shops in the area.' He was speaking of the Army of God, on the face of it a Muslim charity. 'He seems harmless enough.'

'Then you can forget him from now on. I want you to drive out to this airfield and confirm their departure.'

'You've got it, boss. Ferguson said they'd be leaving in three hours, so I'll wait till nearer the time. I don't want to stand out or anything.'

'Just get it right.' After lunch, Holley stopped for a moment at the Dorchester to collect a couple of things before going on with Ferguson and Miller to the airfield. Just as he was going back out through the door, Malik phoned him from Algiers. 'How are you? I was speaking to Cousin Selim and he's worried about you.'

'No need,' Holley said. 'I'm taking it easy for the time being. It's Ferguson and Major Miller who are putting themselves in harm's way. They're going on a flying visit to Peshawar to nose around.'

'But why?'

'Just to get a feel for the situation. I gave them names of people who might be able to help. Dak Khan, Jose Fernandez and Jemal Hamid.'

'And have they agreed to help?'

'It seems that Jemal Hamid was killed in a convoy ambush the other week, but the other two have. Ferguson and Miller will be looked after by a Colonel Ahmed Atep – does he mean anything to you?'

'No, he's not familiar to me, though it's years since I was there. Wasn't he there when you visited five months ago?'

'No, he must be new.'

'So what happens now?' Malik asked.

'I haven't the slightest idea. I just had a meeting with all of Ferguson's people. I was able to put a face to everybody, something I couldn't do before. Roper, Ferguson, Miller, Dillon, and the two gangsters, the Salters.'

'Gangsters?' Malik said.

'Well, that's what they used to be. Young Billy is MI5 now and his uncle has millions in developments by the Thames. It pays better than robbing banks.'

'Everything is a joke to you, Daniel.'

'It's the only thing that got me through five years in the Lubyanka Prison, my friend. Take care, Malik, I'll be in touch.' He hung up.

Malik sighed, deeply troubled by the direction in which the whole affair was going. There was a step on the terrace and he turned to find Colonel Ali Hakim there.

'Forgive the intrusion; your gatekeeper let me into the garden. I was passing and wondered how you are.'

'Not good at all,' Malik said. 'I worry so much about Daniel. I just can't help it.'

Hakim managed a look of concern. 'My dear old friend, what's he been up to now?' Farley Field belonged to the Ministry of Defence and was restricted, but the public car park next to it was not, and was popular with plane-spotters due to the increase in military traffic. Lancy had out his binoculars along with the rest of them and found the Gulfstream, waiting to go, the steps down, two RAF officers beside it.

He could recognize Ferguson, Dillon and Daniel Holley standing together by a Daimler limousine, and then a Mercedes appeared. The man who got out was Miller. It was five-thirty. He waited. Finally, the Gulfstream started across the runway and rose into the air.

He got back into the Mercedes and called the Preacher. 'They've just left.'

'Excellent,' Shah said. 'Let's hope they enjoy themselves.'

'You're going to do the business on them, aren't you, Boss?'

'I would think Peshawar dangerous enough without my help,' Shah told him.

Lancy said, 'What do I do now?'

'Go back to making a living, Selim. I'm sure the ladies adore your manly good looks. You'll find, by the way, that your bank account has been inflated by five thousand pounds. I know your mother's cancer treatment means she can't work. Give her my blessing, but remember you belong to Osama.'

To which there could be no answer, and Selim Lancy switched off, shaking his head. What kind of geezer was he, the Preacher? One minute he was the lord of life and death, and the next he was the soul of kindness and charity. Lancy had punished people for him, wounding to keep Muslim wrongdoers in line, and he'd shot dead two Muslim men from Kosovo involved in a prostitution ring importing young girls. Death was all they deserved, the Preacher had said, and Lancy had obliged, dumping the bodies in the Thames.

It didn't bother him. After all, it was small beer after Afghanistan. On the other hand, the business with his mother was a debt that should be repaid. He sat there behind the wheel of the Mercedes, thinking about the situation. Ferguson and Miller were out of the way, which left Dillon, Holley and the Salters. He smiled. Thanks to the information the Preacher had supplied, he knew all about the Salters, and their history intrigued him. East End gangsters who'd made good, millionaires up there with the toffs. He admired that and felt no animosity. They were on the wrong side, that was all.

There was a restaurant called Harry's Place and a pub, the Dark Man, in Wapping. It was where Salter had started out, his favourite place, and he had a boat there called the Linda Jones tied up at the end of the jetty outside. That's where any aggravation would hurt him most. Lancy smiled and took out his mobile. Like many young and unemployed Muslim men, Kalid Hasim made a bare living on the fringes of the drug trade as a delivery boy. It was a great risk for a small return, but Hasim considered it only temporary. For him, boxing was the way out, and he was punching the bag in his gym in Camden when his mobile sounded; he'd put it with his towel on a bench.

'It's me, number one man,' Lancy said.

They had never met. Lancy was a voice on the phone since the first call, when he'd suggested that Hasim and a couple of his friends might like to smash up a shop selling anti-Muslim literature, promising five hundred pounds in the post. Hasim had taken a chance and had been delighted with the outcome. He'd repeated the exercise on many occasions.

'So what have you got?'

'Just listen.' He explained the situation. 'Just aggravation is what I'm after. Smash up a few motors in the car park… and there's a boat tied up at the jetty. Sinking that would be good.'

'When do you want it done?'

'Tonight, but I've got to warn you. The Salters are real hard men, so don't hang about. In and out before they know what's going on. There's a grand in it for you.'