Chase couldn’t help noticing a certain emphasis on the word ex. “There isn’t time,” he said defensively. “And whatever Nina says, this isn’t a personal vendetta. Yuen’s mining uranium, which means he’s selling it, which means some nasty little bastards are buying it. If I can get to Yuen…” He gave Mac a small, cold smile. “He’ll tell me all about it.”

His former commanding officer fixed him with a piercing stare, the trained lie-detector gaze of a practiced interrogator. “Are you absolutely sure that’s your only objective, Eddie?”

“Yes,” Chase said after a moment.

Mac’s eyes didn’t waver for several long seconds, but then he finally nodded. “Very well. If you insist on going through with this lunacy, I’m sure I can have a new passport waiting for you by the time you get to the airport. Whatever you may think of them, MI6 is actually rather efficient. In some areas.”

“Thanks, Mac. I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than one,” Mac reminded him as he put down the book and stood. Chase grinned and turned back to the computer.

“Sophia won’t take you back, you know,” Mac said quietly from the doorway.

Chase’s grin vanished. “I… never thought that she might.”

“Hrmm.” The little noise was a more damning accusation than any words could have been. “Eddie, you remember what I taught you in the regiment, about fighting to the end?”

“Yeah, of course. You went on about it so much, I started using ‘Fight to the End’ as a motto instead of ‘Who Dares, Wins.’”

For a moment Mac seemed amused, then his lined face took on an expression that Chase had never seen on him before. Sadness. “There’s only been one fight in my entire life that I didn’t see through until the end. At the time, I didn’t think it was worth the effort. But now, it’s the thing that I most regret.”

“What was it?” Chase asked. But he already knew.

“I’m an old man in an empty house, Eddie,” Mac said with a sigh. “But I wouldn’t be alone if I’d fought harder to save my marriage. Don’t let pride stop you from fighting for what you have. For what you both have.” He turned away. “Call whoever you need. I’ll take care of the arrangements.”

Chase watched him leave, but didn’t really see him go, too deep in thought. It was some time before he managed to compose himself and pick up the phone.

Nina awoke with a start, bathwater rippling around her. Lulled into a state of deep relaxation by a long soak in the steaming water-which was now on the brink of tepidity-she had dozed off. Briefly disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, she stood and took a towel from the rail, wrapping it around herself before stepping from the bath. It was an impressive piece of work, a giant of thick enamel and metal, standing on four cast-iron feet that looked like a lion’s paws. It wouldn’t exactly go with her New York apartment, but she had to admit it had its charms.

Drying herself, Nina checked her watch and was staggered to find she had been in the bath for more than two hours. She wrapped the towel around her head and donned the dressing gown Mac had provided so that her filthy clothes could be put in the wash. Considering their tattered state, though, she doubted they would be fit to wear again even clean. The five-hundred-dollar hairstyle was long past salvation; it looked as if she’d be going back to her traditional ponytail for the foreseeable future.

She let the water out of the bath and padded onto the landing. The bathroom, the larger of the two in the house, was on the top floor. She took a closer look at the ornate skylights, their colors dappled by clouds moving across the late afternoon sun, before hearing voices from below and peering over the balcony railing.

Chase and Mac were in the hall, talking. Nina stiffened, dismay and anger rising when she saw that Chase had a bag at his feet, ready to leave. Mac stood between him and the front door, his stance suggesting that he would prefer him not to go, but not enough to make an issue of it. She strained to listen.

“Any chance you could give me your exit code?” Chase asked.

“You know I can’t,” Mac told him firmly.

“I might need a quick getaway, especially if I’ve got Sophia with me. And it’s not like you need it anymore.”

“I do still travel on business, you know.”

“Yeah, I heard you were in Africa last year.”

Chase raised his voice in only partially mock agitation. “You and TD! What were you thinking? No, I can guess what you were thinking. What was she thinking?”

Mac sounded almost wistful. “What can I say? She’s a lovely girl. Very strong…”

“I don’t want to know,” Chase moaned. “Come on, Mac. Odds are I won’t need it, and nobody’ll ever know you told me. But if I get proof of what Yuen’s doing…”

“All right,” said Mac, conflicted. “Why not? I could only be any deeper in this mess if I’d gone to Botswana and shot the silly sod myself.” Nina couldn’t make out what he then said, but Chase nodded.

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I still think this is a very bad idea.”

“People keep telling me that,” Chase said, picking up the bag. “This bloke’ll have everything I need at the airport?”

“He’ll be there.” Mac held out his hand. “Good luck, Eddie. Fight to the end.”

Chase shook it. “Look, about that… tell Nina that I want to talk to her, I do want to sort things out. But it’ll have to wait until after I get back. I have to do this.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Mac.

“I’ll be back in no time,” Chase assured him as he opened the front door and walked out. It closed behind him with a dull funereal thump.

Mac regarded the door for a moment, then spoke. “You can come down now, Nina.”

Surprised, she leaned over the railing. “You knew I was listening?”

“I know every sound in this house-I heard the bathroom door creak.” He looked up at her. “I’m sorry. I thought I might be able to persuade him not to go.”

“You could have just not helped him,” she pointed out sharply.

“In which case he would have gone anyway, and probably ended up being arrested trying to get through customs. Which, in the circumstances, you have to admit would be an even worse alternative.”

Nina was forced to agree. “Goddamn it!” she wailed. “Why does he have to be so stubborn?”

Mac let out a muted laugh. “I’ve known Eddie for a long time, and that’s one thing about him that’s never changed.”

“You mean there are other things that he actually is willing to change?” It was intended as a rhetorical question, with more than a hint of bitterness, and she was rather taken aback to get an answer.

“You’d be surprised. I’ve seen quite a lot of changes in Eddie in the years I’ve known him.”

“Really?”

“Really. But,” he went on, “if you want to talk about them, I think it would be better-certainly for my neck!-if we didn’t discuss them over a balcony like Romeo and Juliet, eh?” He indicated the door leading to the kitchen at the back of the house. “Come downstairs and I’ll get you something to eat. Then, if you’d like, we can talk about young Mr. Chase.”

The sun had set on London, buildings silhouetted against the dying glow of the western sky. Streetlights illuminated the Belgravia terraces with a salmon-pink cast.

That same light fell on a white van as it pulled up opposite Mac’s house. Ignoring the double yellow lines, its flashing hazard lights came on, the traditional cloaking device of any British driver wanting to park where it was prohibited.

There were three men in the front of the van, and four more in the back. All were young, large, trained, and dressed entirely in black. They were also armed, six of them equipped with ultracompact Brugger & Thomet MP9 submachine guns, and other weapons besides.

The seventh man lacked an MP9, but in some ways he had the most powerful weapon of all. On his knees was a laptop computer, and connected to it by a cable was an unassuming white box attached to a makeshift frame bolted to the side of the van.