'If he gets to open his mouth, I'm finished,' Talbot said.

'Let's cross that bridge when we come to it,' Kelly said. 'In the state he's in, he could die at any minute. For the moment, I want you to carry on as normal. Don't discuss this with anyone, and that certainly means your mother.'

'Did Mickeen have any kin in Collyban?'

'All gone abroad years ago.'

'So Sean Dillon could be his only relative.'

'I'd say so, and I know what you're getting at. He's bound to be informed one way or the other.'

'Then I'll have to be ready for him,' Talbot said.

'With a pistol under your pillow?' Kelly shook his head. 'You'll need more than that with Dillon. Anyway, I'm off to make some calls to Belfast. I'll talk to you later.'

He hurried away through the rain and Talbot turned and went back in. A match flared in the depths of the great porch, revealing Jean Talbot lighting the cigarette she'd come out to enjoy earlier when she'd been interrupted by the arrival of her son and Kelly.

Secrets, always secrets. As she inhaled, the glow of the cigarette illuminated that porcelain face and dark eyes. On the other hand, there was a mystery man named Sean Dillon. Perhaps there were things she could find out about him. She flicked her cigarette out into the rain and returned inside.

It was six-thirty at Holland Park, evening dark closing in when Dillon and Holley called with the intention of taking Roper down to dinner at the Dorchester. As they were discussing it he got a call from the Gulfstream and put it on speaker.

'We're on our way back,' Ferguson told him. 'We left an hour ago.'

'Farley informed me they'd received a return flight plan. I thought you'd be staying longer. Didn't you like it?'

'No, Roper, it didn't like us, which is why we left as soon as possible, so shut up and listen to what happened.'

As might be expected from an old military hand, the report was brief, but concise and clear, leaving nothing out.

'Holley and Dillon are with me,' Roper said. 'You've really been to war, General.'

'You could say that. We've left seven men dead, one way or another. Have you any comment, Daniel?'

'Colonel Ahmed Atep and Abu Salim weren't there when I last visited. I could believe many things about Dak Khan, but the Al Qaeda connection is something new.'

'It's a good thing Captain Abu Salim was on your side,' Roper told Ferguson.

'He certainly saw Colonel Atep off in spectacular fashion, but that was the Pathan in him. A matter of honour and revenge for his two Sergeants,' Ferguson said.

'So where does this leave us?' Roper asked.

'With further proof that Shamrock exists, and another codename – an important person in London known as the Preacher.'

'Unfortunately if we insert that into the computer and demand an answer, it will give us precisely nothing,' Dillon cut in.

'I wouldn't be too sure about that,' Ferguson answered. 'Not when Roper starts digging. I've every faith in him.'

'Most kind,' Roper said. 'We'll be seeing you in about nine hours or so?'

'That's it. Over and out.'

Roper shook his head. 'What an amazing exploit.' 'Something to celebrate,' Holley told him. 'Are you up for the Dorchester?'

'Try and stop me,' Roper glanced at the clock. 'Let's say about a quarter to eight. I've got a few things to wrap up here.' At Talbot Place, there were still villagers in the Great Hall, many with drink taken, but people were having such a good time that they didn't want to go. Justin leaned against the wall by the study door, watching his mother holding court at the foot of the stairs; so popular, so loved by the people, he told himself with a kind of envy, but then she was Mary Ellen come back to life.

He was waiting for Kelly and getting impatient. It had been almost an hour since the man had gone to his car to get things moving in Belfast, but suddenly there he was, entering through the front door and hurrying over to him.

'I've got news,' he said. 'Let's go in the study.'

They went in, and Justin closed the door and shot the bolt. 'Tell me.'

'I've been in touch with a friend, Brian Carson, who shared a cell with me in the Maze prison. He's a good man and owns a large construction company, but his silent partners are a Provo syndicate. He only has to lift a phone to contact our sympathizers.'

'So?'

'Mickeen was taken straight into intensive care, where a scan diagnosed a fractured skull and possible brain damage. He hasn't recovered consciousness and is scheduled for emergency neurosurgery.'

'Is that it?'

'No, there's more. Apparently he could die at any moment. There's only a five per cent chance of him surviving the surgery.'

'So we just live with it and hope,' Talbot said.

'That's it, Justin, but our source in the hospital is absolutely sound. Whatever happens, we'll be informed as quickly as anybody.'

Talbot laughed harshly. 'Well, let's hope the old bastard obliges us all by dying quickly. We'll have a drink on it.' He started to move to the bar and his mobile sounded.

It was the Preacher, and Talbot nodded to Kelly, a finger to his mouth, and put his mobile on speaker. 'I presume the funeral passed without incident?' the Preacher said.

'Perfectly, but this is Ireland and people expect a wake,' Talbot told him. 'Half the villagers are still here enjoying themselves.'

'I'm glad someone is happy,' the Preacher said.

'What's happened?' Talbot asked.

'Ferguson and Miller were enticed into a trip to the border area by an illegal gun runner named Dak Khan, on the promise of meeting Shamrock.'

'Where an ambush was waiting, I presume? Did something go wrong?'

'My information is sketchy. Apparently Khan and his people were all disposed of.'

'Could we have it in plain language? Khan and his people have ended up dead and Ferguson and Miller were responsible?'

'So it would appear.'

'Well, good for Ferguson: there's life in the old dog yet. He is, after all, a Grenadier. All I can say is your asset needs changing. He's obviously hopeless.'

'He's dead, too,' Hassan Shah said. 'A car bomb.'

'Not Ferguson, that one.' Justin Talbot shook his head. 'Not his style. I'm sure your man had plenty of enemies. Well, at least that means you don't have to get rid of him yourself now.'

'Al Qaeda will punish his killers as they deserve, and the same will happen to Ferguson and his people. I wouldn't be so cavalier, Talbot. The fact that they're persisting in the search for Shamrock means that they are your problem, too.'

'Well, I've had other things on my mind. For the moment, you'll have to manage without me.'

He switched off and Kelly said, 'You're not going to share the Mickeen Oge Flynn problem with him then?'

'Am I, hell. Now, let's have the drink.' He went to the bar and poured whiskey.

Kelly took the glass offered. 'I remember in the old days when I was on the Army Council, Charles Ferguson was top of the list of people you didn't get involved with if you could avoid it.'

'Now you know why.' Justin emptied his glass. 'It's been a long day. Let's see if we can ease everyone out.' He pulled back the bolt and led the way into the Great Hall.

There was silence, and then Jean Talbot moved in through the curtains. Seeking her son earlier and finding the study door bolted, curiosity had sent her round to the terrace. She'd halted at the study's French windows, partially covered by a half-drawn curtain, aware of the murmur of voices. The window was never locked. She'd eased the handle and opened it just enough to hear everything that was being said, and none of it made her happy. And she had not the slightest idea what to do about it. Dillon, Roper and Holley were about to set out to dinner, when Dillon's mobile sounded.