'You bastard,' Abu told him, went round the desk, picked up Ali Kupu as if he were a rag doll and walked towards the other end of the warehouse. Holley followed.

It was raining harder than ever and Abu paused, looking down through the lights to the Seine, Notre Dame floating in the dark way up to the right.

'Now what?'

'Straight to the end of the jetty and drop him in. Go on, get on with it.'

The big man walked through the lights, holding the body in both hands, paused at the end for a long moment, then dropped the corpse in. It surfaced for a moment, then drifted away into the darkness.

Abu turned and faced Holley. 'She won't get away with it, that bitch, or you. The Albanian Mafia will hunt you both down.'

'Thanks for reminding me. Since you are the only witness, it leaves me with little choice.'

There was sudden alarm on Abu's face and he put a hand out. 'No, let's discuss this.'

But Holley's hand was already swinging up. The silenced Colt coughed once, the bullet hitting Abu between the eyes, and he lurched back over the end of the jetty into the water. Holley returned to the warehouse, opened the small door by which he'd entered and retrieved the umbrella he'd left there. He started to walk back to the barge, thinking about it. The Albanian Mafia was the bane of Paris. The deaths of Abu and Ali Kupu wouldn't disturb the Paris police in the slightest. He would have to take a chance that Liri would forget all about him, but then she would value her own anonymity. Always with him, a woman in trouble was one thing he could never turn away from. In a way, he'd been a fool, but there it was.

But what Kupu had said about AQ-Al Qaeda. Was it just the idle boast of a drunkard or was there genuinely something to it? Whatever-if there really was a plot to assassinate Vladimir Putin, it would create chaos, and that was bad for everybody. It left him with only one choice, and he quickened his pace and hurried back to the barge.

Colonel Josef Lermov of the GRU had been appointed London's Head of Station by Putin himself and was the man who'd taken Daniel Holley out of the Lubyanka Prison and told him to deal with Ferguson and his people once and for all, a business which had not really worked out as intended.

He answered the phone in London, astonished at who was calling him.

'Good God, Daniel. I can't believe it.'

'Where are you, Josef?'

'London. Putin made me Head of Station here.'

'So he forgave you for your failure?'

'Your failure, too, Daniel, but yes, I am forgiven, and I think you are also. I've followed your success with a certain pride. The Algerians regard you highly. Malik is truly proud of you, as if you were his son.'

So he's been talking to Malik, and Malik hasn't told me. Holley stored the information away. 'That's nice.' 'So what can I do for you?'

'Certain information has come my way concerning a possible attempt on Vladimir Putin's life.' 'Are you serious?'

'I can only put the facts before you and you must judge for yourself.'

When he was finished, there was total silence, as if Lermov was taking it all in, so Holley said, 'Okay, the ravings of a drunken lunatic, I know-'

Lermov cut in, his voice hoarse, 'The Prime Minister visits Chechnya tomorrow afternoon, and a meeting like the one you describe has been arranged between him and a Mullah named Ibrahim Nadim. The security on it has been massive.'

'Not massive enough, it seems,' Holley said.

'I'll call the Prime Minister immediately. But, Daniel, I'm curious. You're leaping to his defence. Why?'

'Actually, I admire many things about him, even if we don't always see eye to eye. He's taken the Russian Federation by the scruff of the neck and made it feel proud again-he's a genuine patriot. But mostly… I simply don't think it's a good idea to assassinate him.'

'Neither do I. Thank you, Daniel. I'm going now.'

Sitting there, nursing a drink, Holley had a sudden urge to call Roper, and he did so, finding him wide awake.

'How did your business appointment turn out?' Roper asked.

'What the hell, why shouldn't I tell you?' Holley said. 'The ramifications, in a way, touch the world. I may just have saved Vladimir Putin from assassination.'

Roper took it surprisingly calmly. 'Tell me more.'

Which Daniel did.

The first thing Roper said was: 'What am I going to do with you? You're getting worse than Dillon. You've been shooting people again.'

'If ever two people deserved it, those two did, but isn't it incredible that the apparent boastings of a drunken fool turned out to be true?'

'Because somebody talked, somebody at the very heart of Russian intelligence, told the wrong person. Everyone in the business over there will be working flat out to find out who. Of course, there is the mention Kupu made about his uncle in Tirana.'

'They'll hunt him down like a dog,' Holley said.

'I wouldn't like to think what they're going to do to him to make him talk.'

'But the source of the leak is the thing. It's got to be at the highest level,' Holley persisted. 'And yet someone willing to deal with Al Qaeda.'

'And someone interested in getting rid of Putin,' Roper said. 'A palace revolution.'

'God help whoever it is, with Putin on their case. Now, to other matters, the Afghan business. There's talk of training camps in Northern Pakistan, but traditionally most of the good ones are in Libya and Algeria. Both Dillon and I were trained in the same place, though at different times: Shabwa, deep in the Algerian desert. Check up on it for me.'

'I'll get right on it,' Roper told him.

'I'll be there mid-morning.'

'Looking forward to it.'

Which only left Hamid Malik, who would undoubtedly be sitting in his villa with its magical views of the great harbour of Algiers, biting his nails about the outcome of the Kupu business. Better to get it over with.

'Praise be to Allah to hear your voice,' Malik told him. 'I've been genuinely worried about this business, Daniel; it didn't sit right with me.'

'You were right about Kupu. A bastard of the first order. He even had connections with Al Qaeda.'

'No, surely this cannot be?' There was a wariness in his voice now, a touch of fear, but then that was a common reaction of many Arabs when a mention of Al Qaeda was made.

'Don't worry, Ali Kupu is now feeding what fish there are in the Seine, accompanied by his revolting muscle man, one Abu.'

'Allah preserve me,' Malik was truly shocked. 'You did this?'

'Who else? They were going to do worse to me.'

'Tell me what happened. I need to know in case of repercussions.'

'There won't be any. Two members of the Albanian Mafia turn up in the Seine-it happens all the time. The Paris police will say "good riddance" and move on.'

'But… Al Qaeda. What has that got to do with anything?'

'A great deal, as it happens.'

He told Malik everything and, when he was finished, the Algerian said, 'You never do things by halves, Daniel. Where will it all end?'

'This time with Lermov and his people rooting out those assassins. Did you know he's GRU Station Head in London now? He told me Putin has forgiven him. Me, too!'

'Fine words, but after this you'll deserve a medal.'

'I'll settle for never having to eat at the Lubyanka again. Are you happy now?'

Malik shrugged. 'I should be, I suppose, but even the slightest hint of anything to do with Al Qaeda freezes the heart.'

'Yes, the very name frightens the hell out of people,' Holley agreed. 'Do you think they might be recruiting for Afghanistan?'