Teagan smiled, thinking that the acts she would commit tonight would ensure that she'd have a new dream for years to come, something to celebrate in the dark, something to cling to when times got rough.

At last they reached the X-ray screeners. Stone-faced Gurkhas armed with automatic weapons flanked the check-point, and for a moment Teagan feared that Petra might baulk and retreat at the show of force.

But her sister acted like a pro and handed her identification to the guard, who ran her badge through a reader and checked her face against computer records that identified her as 'Caroline Thorson'. Those same records indicated that she was a diabetic and therefore cleared to bring an insulin kit into the venue.

The guard pointed to a grey plastic tub. 'Insulin kit and anything metal in there. Jewellery, too,' he said, pointing at the pitted silver ring she wore.

Petra smiled, tugged the ring off and set it beside the insulin kit in the tray. She walked through the metal-detectors without incident.

Teagan took off a ring identical to her sister's and put it in the tray after her credentials checked out. 'Same ring?' the guard said.

Teagan smiled and gestured towards Petra. 'We're cousins. The rings were presents from our grandma who loved the Olympics. The poor dear passed on last year. We're wearing them in her honour to every event we work.'

'That's nice,' the guard said, and waved her through.

Chapter 54

THE ORBIT'S OBSERVATION deck revolved slowly clock-wise, offering a panoramic view of the interior of the Olympic Stadium where several athletes and coaches were inspecting the track, and of the Aquatics Centre that Knight had only just left. deck revolved slowly clock-wise, offering a panoramic view of the interior of the Olympic Stadium where several athletes and coaches were inspecting the track, and of the Aquatics Centre that Knight had only just left.

Standing at the deck's railing in a cooling east wind that sent clouds scudding across a leaden sky, Mike Lancer squinted at Knight and said: 'You mean the television guy?'

'And Greek antiquities curator at the British Museum.'

Jack Morgan said, 'Does Scotland Yard know about this yet?'

Knight had called Jack Morgan and had been told that he and Lancer were up on the Orbit, inspecting security on the Olympic flame. Knight had rushed over. He nodded to Jack's question and said, 'I just spoke with Elaine Pottersfield. She has squads en route to the museum and to his house.'

For several moments there was silence, and all Knight was really aware of was the smell of carbon in the air, coming from the Olympic cauldron burning on the roof above them.

'How do we know for sure that Daring has gone missing?' Jack asked.

Knight replied, 'I called his secretary before I called Elaine, and she told me that the last time anyone saw Daring was last Thursday night around ten o'clock when he left the reception for his exhibit. That was probably six hours after Selena Farrell was last seen as well.'

Lancer shook his head. 'Did you see that coming, Peter? That they could have been in on it together?'

'I didn't even consider the possibility,' Knight admitted. 'But they both served with NATO in the Balkans during the mid-1990s, they both had issues with the modern Olympic Games, and there's no denying the DNA results.'

Lancer said, 'Now that we know who they are, it's only a matter of time until they're caught.'

'Unless they manage to strike again before they're caught,' Jack said.

The LOCOG security adviser blanched, puffed out his lips, and exhaled with worry. 'Where? That's the question I keep asking myself.'

'Somewhere big,' Knight said. 'They killed during the opening ceremony because it gave them a world audience.'

Jack said, 'Okay, so what's the biggest event left?'

Lancer shrugged. 'The sprints have drawn the most interest. Millions of people applied for seats in the stadium this coming Sunday evening the final of the men's 100-metre sprint because of the possibility of a showdown between Zeke Shaw and Filatri Mundaho.'

'What about today or tomorrow? What's the ticket everyone wants?' Knight asked.

'Has to be the women's gymnastics, I'd think,' Jack said. 'Carries the biggest television audience in the States, anyway.'

Lancer glanced at his watch and reacted as though his stomach had just soured. 'The women's team final starts in less than an hour.'

Anxiety coiled through Knight as he said, 'If I were Cronus, and wanted to make a big statement, women's gymnastics is is where I'd attack next.' where I'd attack next.'

Lancer grimaced and started heading for the lift, saying, 'I hate to say it, but I think you may be right, Peter.'

'What's the fastest way to the gymnastics venue?' Jack demanded, hustling after the LOCOG member.

'Blackwall Tunnel,' Knight said.

'No,' Lancer said. 'Scotland Yard's got it closed during the competitions to prevent a possible car bombing. We'll go by river bus.'

Chapter 55

AFTER CHECKING IN with Petra's immediate supervisors, the sisters scouted out the seats for which she would act as usher. They were low and at the north end of the O2 Arena, just off the vault floor. Teagan left her sister at that point, and found the hospitality suite to which she'd been assigned as a waitress. She told her team leader there that she would return after a quick trip to the loo. with Petra's immediate supervisors, the sisters scouted out the seats for which she would act as usher. They were low and at the north end of the O2 Arena, just off the vault floor. Teagan left her sister at that point, and found the hospitality suite to which she'd been assigned as a waitress. She told her team leader there that she would return after a quick trip to the loo.

Petra was waiting. They took stalls next to each other.

Teagan opened the seat-cover dispenser in her stall and retrieved two slender, green CO2 canisters and two sets of plastic tweezers that had been taped there. canisters and two sets of plastic tweezers that had been taped there.

She kept one and passed the other under the partition that separated the stalls. In return, Petra handed Teagan two tiny darts, scarcely as long as a bee's sting, with miniature plastic vanes glued to tiny insulin needles and stuck to a small strip of duct tape.

Next came a six-inch length of thin clear plastic tubing with miniature pipe-fitting hardware at either end. Teagan took off her ring and then screwed the male fitting into one of the silver pits on the back of the ring.

Satisfied with the connection, she unscrewed it and coiled the line back to where she'd attached the CO2 cartridge. She taped the cartridge and coiled gas line to her forearm, and then slid on the ring. cartridge. She taped the cartridge and coiled gas line to her forearm, and then slid on the ring.

She'd no sooner finished than Petra pushed the vial from the insulin kit under the partition. Teagan used her tweezers to grab one of the darts. She stuck the tip of its needle through the rubber gasket into the vial and the liquid it contained, drew it out, and inserted it vane first into a tiny hole on her ring opposite the gas connection.

After dipping the second tiny dart, she blew on it until the liquid dried, and then stuck it ever so carefully into the lapel of her uniform in case she needed a second shot. With utmost care, she drew down her blouse sleeve before flushing the loo and leaving the stall.

Petra appeared as Teagan washed her hands. She smiled uncertainly at her older sister, but then whispered, 'Aim twice.'

'Shoot once,' Teagan said, thinking that this felt like part of a dream already. 'Do you have your bees?'

'I do.'

Chapter 56

UNDER A SPITTING rain an unseasonal fog crept west up the Thames to meet the river bus as it sped past the Isle of Dogs, heading towards the North Greenwich peninsula and the Queen Elizabeth II Pier. The boat was packed with latecomers holding tickets to the team gymnastics finals, which were just a few minutes from starting. rain an unseasonal fog crept west up the Thames to meet the river bus as it sped past the Isle of Dogs, heading towards the North Greenwich peninsula and the Queen Elizabeth II Pier. The boat was packed with latecomers holding tickets to the team gymnastics finals, which were just a few minutes from starting.

Knight's attention, however, was not on the other passengers; it roved off the bow of the ferry, looking towards the brilliantly lit O2 Arena dome coming closer, feeling strongly that it could be the scene of Farrell and Daring's next strike.

Beside him, Lancer was talking insistently on his phone, explaining that he was on the way with reinforcements for the security detail, which he ordered to be on highest alert. He had already called Scotland Yard's Marine Unit and had been told that a patrol boat was anchored off the back of the arena.

'There it is,' Jack said, pointing through the mist at a large rigid inflatable craft with dual outboard engines bobbing in the water south of them as they rounded the head of the peninsula.

Five officers in black raincoats and carrying automatic weapons stood in the boat, watching them. A single officer, a woman in a dry suit, rode an ultra-quiet black jet ski that trailed the river bus into the dock.

'Those are primo counter-terror vessels, especially that sled,' Jack said in admiration. 'No chance of entry or escape by water with those suckers around.'

Security around the actual arena was just as tight. There were ten-foot-high fences around the venue with armed Gurkhas every fifty yards. The screening process was tough. There was still a long line waiting to get in. Without Lancer it would have taken them at least half an hour to clear the scanners. But he'd got them inside in less than five minutes.

'What are we looking for?' Knight asked as they heard applause from the entryway in front of them, and a woman's voice on the public address system announcing the first rotation of the women's team finals.

'Anything out of the ordinary,' Lancer said. 'Absolutely anything.'

'When was the last time dogs swept the building?' Jack asked.

'Three hours ago,' Lancer said.

'I'd bring them back,' Jack said as they emerged into the arena itself. 'Are you monitoring mobile traffic?'

'We jammed it,' Lancer said. 'We figured it was easier.'

While LOCOG's security chief gave orders over his radio to recall the canine-sniffer bomb squad, Knight and Jack scanned the arena floor, seeing teams lining up near individual pieces of gymnastics apparatus.

The Chinese were at the south end of the venue, preparing to compete on the uneven parallel bars. Beyond, the Russians were doing stretching exercises beside the balance beam. The UK contingent, which had performed remarkably well in the qualifying rounds thanks to gutsy performances by star gymnast Nessa Kemp, was arranging gear near the floor-exercise mat. At the far end of the arena, the Americans were preparing to vault. Guards, many of them Gurkhas as well, stood at their posts around the floor, facing away from the competitors so they could scan the crowd for threat with zero distraction.

Knight concluded that an attack on one of the athletes down on the floor was virtually impossible.

But what about their safety back in the locker rooms? Or on the way to and from the Olympic Village?

Would the next target even be an athlete?

Chapter 57

AT SIX-FIFTEEN THAT Tuesday evening, the last of the Chinese gymnasts stuck her dismount off the balance beam, landing on her feet with nary a bobble. Tuesday evening, the last of the Chinese gymnasts stuck her dismount off the balance beam, landing on her feet with nary a bobble.

The crowd inside the Chinese Gymnastics Federation's luxury box high in the arena roared with delight. With one round to go, their team was winning handsomely. The Brits were a surprising second, and the Americans sat solidly in third place. The Russians had unexpectedly imploded and were trailing a distant fourth.

Amid the celebration, Teagan set her drinks tray on the bar and then dropped a pen on purpose. She squatted and in seconds had the thin gas line running beneath her wrist, up across her palm, past her little finger and attached to the back of the ring.

She stood to smile at the bartender. 'I'm going to clear glasses for a bit.'

He nodded and returned to pouring wine. As the Chinese team moved to the vaulting pit, Teagan's senses were on fire. She slipped through the crowded luxury box towards a stocky woman in a grey suit who was watching at the window.

Her name was Win Bo Lee. She was chairman of the national committee of the Chinese Gymnastics Association, or CGA. She was also, in her own way, as corrupt as Paul Teeter and Sir Denton Marshall had been. Cronus was right, Teagan thought. People like Win Bo Lee deserved exposure and death.

As she neared the woman, Teagan held her right arm low and by her waist while her left hand slipped into the pocket of her uniform coat and felt something small and bristly. When the distance between her and Win Bo Lee was less than two feet, she snapped her hand sharply upward and squeezed the right side of the ring with her little finger.

With a soft spitting noise rendered inaudible by the joyous conversations in the hospitality suite, the tiny dart flew and stuck in the back of Win Bo Lee's neck. The CGA's chairman jerked, and then cursed. She tried to reach around the back of her neck. But before she could, Teagan slapped her there, dislodging the dart, which fell to the floor. She crushed it with her shoe.

Win Bo Lee twisted around angrily and glared at Teagan, who looked deeply into her victim's eyes, savouring them, imprinting them in her memory, and then said, 'I got it.'

She crouched down before the Chinese woman could reply and acted as if she were picking something up with her left hand. She stood and showed Win Bo Lee a dead bee.

'It's summer,' Teagan said. 'Somehow they get in here.'

Win Bo Lee stared at the bee and then up at Teagan, her temper cooling, and said, 'You are quick, but not quicker than that bee. It stung me hard!'

'A thousand pardons,' Teagan said. 'Would you like some ice?'

The CGA chairman nodded as she reached around to massage her neck.

'I'll get you some,' Teagan said.

She cleared the table in front of the CGA chairman, took one last look into Win Bo Lee's eyes, and then left the glasses at the bar. Heading towards the exit with no intention of returning, Teagan was already replaying every moment of her quiet attack as if it were a slow-motion highlight on a sports reel.