'It would seem so,' Abu Salim said, and returned to Dak Khan. 'You're certain of this?'

'He pressured me again and again to do his dirty work. Who can say no to Al Qaeda?'

He was weakening, and Salim continued, 'What about Shamrock?'

'He exists. Atep told me. Also said General Ferguson was being too nosy and needed dealing with.' He looked up at Ferguson and Miller. 'He said you'd done a great deal of harm to Al Qaeda.'

'So he definitely wanted us dead,' Miller said.

'Oh, yes, and not only you two.' He glanced at Abu Salim. 'I asked about you and your men getting in the line of fire. He told me there was no problem. He said you were a nothing.' He seemed to swallow and whispered, 'He said with Osama's blessing, success was assured.'

There was no death rattle, he simply closed his eyes and died. Salim stood up and Ferguson said, 'What the hell happens now?'

'Let's go back to the Sultan and talk before we leave,' Salim said. 'We need to get our story straight.'

'Do we?' Charles Ferguson said, glancing at Miller. 'Well, that should be interesting.'

Indeed it was as, back at the Sultan, Salim called Colonel Atep on his mobile and reported in. 'Bad news, sir. That swine Dak Khan sold us out. Took us to a house up country where he insisted Shamrock would be, and we were attacked by four of his men.'

Seated at his desk, Ahmed Atep managed to control himself. 'What happened to General Ferguson and Major Miller?'

'They're fine, Colonel, and – except for being cut up a bit – so am I. I lost my two Sergeants, but we managed to kill Khan and four villains in his employ.'

'And he's definitely dead?'

'I'm afraid so, Colonel, but it does mean we avoid the fuss of a public trial, which means that, considering the importance of our guests, it will be much easier to treat the whole unfortunate matter as if it had never happened.'

With considerable relief, Colonel Atep grasped at the straw. 'Excellent, you've done well, Captain. I'll have a medical Chinook with you in thirty minutes.' The mobile went silent.

'You're a marvel, Captain,' Ferguson said. 'This means we can make our return this evening. You handled the call to Atep brilliantly.'

'Thank you, General. Excuse my presumption, but I had got the impression you wanted to keep this whole Shamrock business as low-key as possible, and so I told the Colonel what I knew he wanted to hear under the circumstances. I'm only sorry your journey has been in vain.'

'But it hasn't,' said Miller. 'We now know about that Al Qaeda man in London known as the Preacher.'

'Which could be useful.' Ferguson smiled and glanced up at the noise of the approaching helicopter. 'How's that for service? There must have been one in the vicinity.' Ahmed Atep had come himself, in the helicopter, all affability and charm and concern. The ambush by Taliban, which is what it swiftly became in the retelling, reflected well on his command, and he accompanied them to the military hospital, where they were checked thoroughly, Abu Salim needing twenty stitches, the windscreen having done its worst.

After consultation with Lacey, it was decided that a suitable time to leave would be ten o'clock. Colonel Atep insisted on giving them a farewell dinner at the Palace. The news that they had been attacked in the border country had leaked, as these things do, and Hamid had pulled out all the stops to give them the most extraordinary meal on the terrace.

Ahmed Atep was bonhomie itself, the life and soul of the party, while Abu Salim, with his scarred face, was much quieter.

The Colonel patted him on the shoulder. 'Come, my boy, cheer up. You're quite the hero. They'll be impressed in Islamabad. Who knows, a promotion could be in the offing.'

'It's kind of you to say so, Colonel, I was only doing my duty,' Salim said.

Atep glanced at his watch. 'Ah, you must be on your way. You'll forgive me for not seeing you off to the airport. I have another appointment. I trust your luggage is being taken care of?'

'I'll see to it,' Salim said. 'Excuse me.'

He got up and went out and the bill was discreetly presented to the Colonel, who waved it away to be put on his account. They all went out to the hall, where Salim waited, and said their goodbyes.

Colonel Atep went down the steps to where his Porsche 911 was parked. He waved, got in and drove away.

'He loves that car above all things,' Salim said. 'It's his virility system. He will drive it from here for exactly thirty minutes to that "appointment" at his favourite house of pleasure.'

'How interesting,' Ferguson said.

'Isn't it?' Abu Salim smiled. 'And now let me see you off.' It wasn't particularly busy, and they walked through the concourse towards the private departure section for VIPs, where they could see Parry waiting, talking to some security man in uniform.

'There he is,' Ferguson said. 'We'll be on our way before you know it. Have a little champagne when we get on board, Harry, eh? That'll be nice.'

The security man's mobile sounded. He answered it and seemed to go rigid, then turned at once to Salim. 'Terrible news, Captain, that was headquarters. Colonel Ahmed Atep has just been blown up in his car!'

Salim barely managed a frown with his scarred face. 'Tell them I'll be there at once. But first I must see our guests off.'

The security man nodded, then hurried away, speaking into the mobile. Ferguson said to Parry, 'Lead the way.' They passed outside and walked towards the Gulfstream, which waited, steps down. 'Do carry on, Parry. We'll only be a moment.'

He and Miller turned to face Salim, and Ferguson looked at him gravely. 'A terrible business, Captain.'

'Car bombs are one of the curses of our age,' Abu Salim said. 'A block of Semtex, a fifteen-minute timer.' He shrugged. 'No one is safe any more.'

'I suppose not. You're a remarkable young man,' Ferguson told him, and went up the steps.

Miller held out his hand and Salim took it for a moment. 'I've always remembered one thing in particular from your counter-terrorism lectures at Sandhurst, Major.'

'And what would that be?'

'That in the world of today, the only rule is that there are no rules.'

He walked away. Miller turned and went up the steps, the door closed, and a few minutes later the Gulfstream moved away.

It was ten o'clock in the morning when Dillon and Holley turned up at Holland Park and found Roper in his usual place.

'You're late for breakfast,' Roper said.

'We've already had it,' Dillon said. 'Daniel and I had a night out. First Le Caprice. Wonderful food. Finished in the bar at the Dorchester with far too much champagne, then retired upstairs where my friend, being appallingly rich, has booked one of those Park Suites with two bedrooms.'

'What about the hangovers?'

'We don't indulge in those. I'm Irish and Daniel is half-Irish and his other half is Yorkshire, the biggest beer drinkers in the world.' Dillon grinned and, as Tony Doyle entered, said, 'Any chance of one of your big mugs of tea, Tony?'

'Coming right up, Mr Dillon.'

Daniel Holley had pulled a chair forward, sat down on it and started to scan the computer screens. Something caught his eye, and he said, 'What's this about Talbot International?'

'Colonel Henry Talbot passed on last night,' Roper said. 'It'll mean Justin Talbot will want the Chairman's seat for himself.'

'Which makes sense. The ultimate job for the man who's got everything. If you don't mind, Roper, let's have a look at him.'

Roper turned up a family history, which was considerable, stretching back to the Talbots' first appearance in Northern Ireland from Wales in the late seventeenth century.