'Some of the good ones.'

'Did we go to see them?'

'Briefly.'

She nodded. And then something else occurred to her. 'Gabriel.'

'What about him?'

'I don't know. Do you think it was odd, him riding off like that?'

'After you threatened to kill him, and then knocked him unconscious?'

'Another mistake. I've made so many of them, haven't I?'

'I didn't mean it like that.'

'It just doesn't make sense to me. If he was trying to escape, surely he would have taken a different route?'

'Rather than one that took him right past you, right into the path of your shotgun.'

'It seemed more as if he were chasing Jakab, rather than trying to get away from us.'

Sebastien grunted. 'I'm a b.l.o.o.d.y idiot. I hadn't even considered that. Now you mention it, I can't disagree with you.'

'I always felt he was laughing at me. That he knew something. At the time I put it down to paranoia. I should have trusted my instincts. I wonder where he is now.'

'I'm right here.'

Gabriel walked into the kitchen and closed the french windows behind him. He paused at the far end of the room, watching their reactions with eyes like blue azurite. In his right hand he held a duffel bag, which he dropped to the floor. Stubble grazed his cheeks. His face was grave, absent of all humour.

Hannah surprised herself with her lack of movement. Perhaps it was the lingering effect of Sebastien's sedative, or the alcohol, or both, but she felt anch.o.r.ed to the chair. She glanced around the room, searching for weapons. She could see none. The kitchen worktop held only a kettle, a coffee maker and the dishes stacked on the drainer. A basket stood next to the wood stove, but it contained no logs.

Hannah looked up at him. 'What do you want?'

'I want to help you.'

'Why?'

'Because of the tragedy that's found you. Because I began to like the woman I met in the mountains. Because it's the right thing to do. Because there's no one else who can.'

Aware that Sebastien's hand was creeping towards the pocket of his trousers, aware that she needed to hold Gabriel's attention, Hannah asked, 'How did you find us?'

'It wasn't that difficult.'

'Who are you?'

Gabriel moved further into the room. Hannah climbed to her feet. Next to her, she felt Sebastien rising.

'I'm guessing that's a blade you're reaching for, old man,' the Irishman said. 'Please, don't. I'm very tired. I'm not here to hurt anyone.'

'Who are you?' Hannah repeated.

Gabriel studied her face. Finally he said, 'I'm hosszu elet.'

His words were like a fist in her stomach, driving the air from her lungs. She sucked in a breath. 'What happened to Gabriel? What did you do with him?'

The man before her frowned, and then his face softened. 'Hannah, I am Gabriel. That same guy. I can understand, based on your experience, why you'd think we're all as monstrous as Jakab, using and discarding people as if they were little more than a fresh set of clothes. But I a.s.sure you we're not.' He glanced away from her. 'I think even Sebastien would agree with me on that.'

'Don't tell me what I think,' the old man snapped. 'You have no idea who I am, no idea at all. And if you were really hosszu elet-'

'You're Sebastien Lang,' Gabriel interrupted calmly. 'You were born and raised in Vienna and you studied medicine at Semmelweis University in Budapest. While you were still an undergraduate you met a hosszu elet woman named eva Maria-Magdalena Szollosi. eva mistook you for one of us. The Eleni cull was still fresh in her memory and secrecy remained the watchword. By the time she revealed herself to you and discovered her mistake, you'd both fallen in love. She admitted the truth, and then she fled.'

Sebastien stumbled to the armchair and fell into it. He raised shaking hands to his face, covered his eyes.

'eva pleaded with you to forget her but you were heartbroken, devastated. You began researching the hosszu eletek. Everything you could read, everything you could hear. Finally you stumbled across the Eleni. The organisation tasked with wiping out the hosszu eletek was searching for its few survivors. Not to kill, this time: to exploit. But you didn't care about any of that. You just wanted to find eva.'

'I did care,' Sebastien croaked.

'You rose up through the ranks and finally became signeur, right hand to the Presidente and responsible for finding the hosszu eletek using whatever means possible. During one of your botched attempts, a young hosszu elet girl was killed. She was one year away from her first vegzet. She might have met someone and fallen in love. She might have had children. She might have delayed the inevitable for another generation or more.' Gabriel's eyes narrowed. 'So tell me again, Sebastien Lang. Tell me that I have no idea who you are.'

'That girl was never meant to die,' he whispered, raising his head to reveal eyes wet with tears. 'It should never have happened. The whole thing was a disaster from the start.'

'A disaster for us.'

'You think I don't know that? Why do you think I walked away?'

'I'm not here to answer that,' Gabriel replied. 'I'm here to help Hannah.'

Hannah laid a hand on Sebastien's shoulder. She didn't like the animosity that was building between the two of them. To Gabriel, she asked, 'How do you know so much about Seb?'

'When your family your society is obliterated in a genocide that history charmingly labels a cull, you tend to keep a close eye on those who choose to do you harm.'

'I never wished to do you any harm,' Sebastien said. 'G.o.d's sakes, I was in love with her. I just wanted to find her again.'

As if he had never spoken, Gabriel said, 'We don't know the ident.i.ty of all the Eleni Council members. But the ones we do are watched. When he relocated to Snowdonia, I agreed to keep an eye on him. I moved into a place across the valley from his cottage.'

'How long ago?' Hannah asked.

'About eight years.'

'Eight years? That's a h.e.l.l of a long time to live alone in a place like that, just to monitor the comings and goings of one old man.'

Gabriel shrugged. 'Eight years isn't so bad. It was an important thing to do.'

Hannah recalled how desperately lonely Gabriel had seemed during their ride up Cadair Idris. She wasn't sure she agreed. 'How do I know that any of this is true? How do I know that you're not Jakab?'

'Can we sit at the table?'

'Why?'

'If you'll grant me just two minutes of grace, I'll show you.'

Hannah looked from Gabriel to Sebastien, and then back to the Irishman. 'Why should I trust you?'

'You shouldn't. But what have you got to lose?'

After staring at him a moment longer, Hannah pulled up a high-backed wooden chair and sat down at the table.

Gabriel sat opposite her. 'There's one thing you might not know about Balazs Jakab. A birth defect. Rare, and unfortunate.'

'His eyes,' she replied. 'He couldn't control their colour.'

'Full marks. You've done your homework. But the lelekfeltaras our term for it is more than just a colour change, a means of disguise. It's how we reveal ourselves to each other. You could say it's our most intimate form of expression. There are different levels, of course. A full lelekfeltaras is shared only between lovers. Or potential lovers.'

'Show me.'

He raised his eyebrows.

'Don't flatter yourself. Show me.'

Gabriel reached out and took her hands. She flinched at his first touch, forced herself to relax. She had to know. Had to see this.

His grip on her was soft, the tips of his fingers warm. 'Look at me,' he said. 'Don't think, don't tense. Just open your eyes, and look into mine.'

Hannah gazed into pupils encircled by startling blue irises. She had read about the lelekfeltaras, having discovered a rambling pa.s.sage on the subject in one of Hans Fischer's diaries. As she concentrated, she noticed that the cobalt hue of Gabriel's eyes was actually the dominant colouring of three distinct shades of blue. Deeper notes, of ultramarine and navy, were confined to the outer edges.

His eyes seemed to flare, to pulse, and as she watched, a wheel of golden points began to emerge around the borders of his pupils. The dots of fire grew brighter, detached themselves and floated like Chinese lanterns across an ocean towards the white of his sclera. She felt her heart quicken, her skin begin to tingle. Another ring of golden lights surfaced, broke loose and floated across Gabriel's eyes. The cobalt hue began to darken, blushed with mauve.

Hannah's hands tightened on his. The top of her head p.r.i.c.kled. Her cheeks burned. Her breath came in quick shallow gasps. She was suddenly aware of every nerve ending in her body. She could feel the caress of the night air on her lips, the rub of her clothing against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the cold press of the chair upon her legs.

The golden points continued to emerge, detach and sail, and the colours at the edges of his irises began to rotate from deep blue to violet to indigo. Around her, the kitchen had ceased to exist. All she could see was the light, the dark, the colours and the gold. All she could hear was the thunder of her blood pounding in her ears.

And now, as if the swirling colours were a whirlpool tumbling her inexorably towards a vacuum at the heart of him, she felt pulled, drawn, dragged, into the darkness of those pupils, leaving the wonder of the shifting hues behind, reducing her world to a terrifying void that rushed at her, called to her, clamoured for her.

Hannah shuddered, squirmed, felt her fingers twitch and stutter in Gabriel's grip. She felt her throat constricting, a scream building. She tried to look away. Couldn't.

It seemed like an age, a lifetime, and perhaps it was no more than the merest of moments, but finally Gabriel flung away her fingers and lurched up from the table.

Their link broken, Hannah jerked back in her chair. Gasping for breath, raising her hands to her face, she felt the tracks of tears on her cheeks. 'My G.o.d,' she breathed. 'I felt . . .'

Gabriel studied her from the far side of the kitchen, shaken. 'Are you all right?'

'I thought I was losing myself.'

'I'm sorry. It's the first time I've ever done that. I forgot that you that you're not . . .'

'Hosszu elet.'

He stared at her, his expression hollow.

Hannah wiped perspiration from her forehead. She stood up. Dizziness a.s.sailed her and she gripped the table for support. Breathing heavily, she turned to Sebastien. 'It's not him. It's not Jakab.'

With a last look at Gabriel, she fled to the hall and climbed the stairs to the first-floor landing. A window there was open to the night. She was grateful for the movement of air against her flushed cheeks. As the tingling faded from her skin, as her fear receded, she felt a warmth flooding her, as if someone had opened the top of her head and filled her with heated syrup.

Leah's bedroom was a boxroom, containing a single bed that stretched the length of the far wall. The shutters above it were closed. The girl lay beneath them, coc.o.o.ned in an embroidered quilt.

On a side table, in a pile, lay the diaries started by Hans Fischer. The string that usually bound them was balled on the floor.

So Leah had finally read them. Perhaps, she thought, it was time.

Hannah walked into the room, sank down on to the bed and curled around her daughter's body.

'I thought you were dying,' Leah whispered into the darkness. 'I kept coming to see you but you never wanted to wake up.'

'I'm here now. And I'm going nowhere. I'm here and you're safe.'

She turned over. 'I cooked you some eggs but you didn't eat them,' the girl said. 'I didn't know what else to do.'

Hannah pulled her close, bowing her head so that she could fill her nose with the scent of Leah's hair. The warmth that had immersed her still radiated. Now, with her daughter in her arms, she felt a moment of calm for the first time since Nate's death.

For three days and nights, she had replayed the moment when her father had risen to his feet and shot her husband dead. The image played every time she closed her eyes. For three days and nights, she had asked herself what she could have done to stop Jakab, how she could have prevented him from killing Nate.

Here, in the sanctuary of her daughter's bedroom, that scene had temporarily lost its power to torment her. The questions faded from her mind. She breathed the fragrance of Leah's hair, felt the heat of her body, reached out for sleep.

Jakab was coming. She knew that. The only remaining uncertainty was how many people would die when he arrived, and whether Hannah could ensure that he was one of them.

CHAPTER 22.

Snowdonia Now Daniel Meyer watched as his second, Nikola Palinkas, shovelled the last spade of earth over the grave and tamped it down. Palinkas was in his late thirties, six foot five, with a weightlifter's chest. It seemed the only areas of his body not covered with wild black hair were the two triangles of skin beneath his eyes, currently hidden behind gold-framed Aviators. His beard reminded Daniel of the bristles of a boar's fur.

This place was so cold.

The first flakes of snow were beginning to fall from a tombstone sky, and the temperature had plunged below freezing. But it was the wind and the damp that wrapped around Daniel's limbs and squeezed his bones until they ached. Beneath his feet, the ground was as hard as steel.

Despite the conditions, sweat had beaded on Palinkas's brow. Daniel clapped the man on the back. He blew air into his cupped hands and turned. Behind them, in the lap of the mountain, stood the farmhouse of Llyn Gwyr, a sad and silent monolith. Whether it was the building's empty windows or something else, he did not know, but ever since they had arrived, Daniel had felt watched. It was not a pleasant feeling.

They had discovered Professor Charles Meredith moments after turning on to the track that served the farm. His corpse, frozen and white, reclined against the sign exactly where Sebastien had directed them.

Lifting the cadaver into the back of their rented 4x4 had caused them some difficulty manoeuvring it into the farmhouse had been even harder. Once inside Llyn Gwyr's kitchen, they'd had to prop his body on a chair in front of a crackling fire for two hours before he thawed enough to enable them to prise the booklet from his fingers and unbend his limbs until they lay flat.